Ethan walks in, his gym bag slung over his shoulders, wearing headphones, music blasting, oblivious to anything beyond his own warped little world. I watch him arm the security system, leftover paranoia from the beating Troy gave him. Fool, he really thought this building would protect him. He hangs his keys and flips on the light.
“Welcome to your nightmare.” Before the last syllable leaves my mouth, my blade cuts the air, slicing forward, its point delivering judgment, driving deep into Ethan’s shoulder.
“What the fuck!” he shrieks, stumbling back as the headphones crash to the floor. He reaches for his gun, too slow.
I slam him into the hallway wall, rip the weapon from his grip, and fling it across the room. He howls as I twist the knife, driving it deeper.“You made a mistake messing with my woman,” I growl. “I hope you enjoy pain, Ethan. Because I’m going to make every second count.”
He gasps and sucks in a quick breath. “I didn’t take her. I swear.”
“But you were involved. It was your contact who gave her the phone.”
“No.” His words rush out of him like vomit. “She wasn’t my contact. The FBI brought her in!”
“Then you’d better know something, because, whether you planned it or not, your actions helped my enemies take Aria. That means you’re already dead.” I lean closer. “The only question is fast or slow?”
Collin steps out of the darkness, his expression blank. The monster behind the pretty-boy smile is fully awake now. “You’ve heard whispers about my brother, haven’t you?” I nod toward him.
Ethan gulps, but to his credit, he doesn’t beg. He spits at my feet. “Fuck you. Men like you ruin the world. You’ll get nothing from me. You think this is the worst pain I’ve felt?”
I shrug. “For every action, there’s a reaction.” I drag him into the kitchen where everything’s ready:plastic sheets and rope, laid out with intention. This isn’t improvisation. It’s Col’s preparation. It’s time for the Executioner to come out and play.
Collin takes a seat at the table. “You’ll regret not talking by the time this is over. I’m going to peel your skin off, slow and neat.”
Ethan meets his gaze with defiance. Troy flicks on the dining light, and Ethan catches sight of the rope and lashes out, landing a punch to Troy’s injured side. That’s a big mistake.
Troy grunts, staggers half a step, then snarls grabbing Ethan and slams him onto the dining table. Wood cracks under the impact. We bind him fast, with practiced efficiency while Collin opens his black bag and lays out each glinting instrument with surgical precision. “Still sure you don’t want to talk?” Collin asks, his voice ice-cold.
“You all can fuck off to hell,” Ethan snarls. “I’ll take it to my grave. Aria made her choice. She lay down with the king of scum.” I twist the knife buried in his shoulder. He howls, and Thomas tapes his mouth shut before the neighbors get curious
Collin slips off his jacket, rolls up his sleeves, and pulls on black vinyl gloves. He lifts a scalpel, weighing it like an artist choosing a brush. “Don’t worry, this won’t kill you. That would be too kind.”
He holds up a syringe filled with clear liquid. “This will heighten your pain response, though. Enjoy.” The needle slides in. Collin taps his phone, setting a timer. “Play Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony,” Collin says.
The opening notes flood the room—grand, and ominous. Collin steadies Ethan’s hand, isolating the little finger. The blade hovers for a heartbeat.
Then it descends; the first cut is clean and precise. The scalpel glides through flesh like silk. Collin switches tools without looking, peeling skin back with the care of a practiced surgeon. Like removing the skin from a grape without piercing the fruit. Blood wells. Ethan thrashes, muffled screams tearing behind the tape. Collin never flinches. Beethoven swells, its elegance warping into a monstrous symphony of agony. I know this. This is only the warm-up.
Thirty minutes later, Ethan’s hand is stripped clean, from fingertips to wrist. I don’t know how Collin avoids anything vital. The perfectionist finally sets the scalpel down, peels off his gloves, silences the music and reaches into his bag again.
“This is morphine,” Collin says, displaying the full syringe. “It’ll dull the pain. Whether you get it depends on you. The next round goes for forty-five minutes. Every round after that, we add fifteen.”
Ethan’s pupils are wide open as he starts frantic head shaking. Guess all that bravado from before is gone. His breathing turns sharp, erratic. A desperate sound pushes against the tape. Thomas rips the tape free.
“You’re a fucking psycho!” Ethan gasps. “You’ll pay for this!”
I lean in close. “Ethan, you see what Collin can do. He can keep you alive for weeks.” My tone is dead calm. “I’ll ask you one last time. What do you know about the woman who took Aria?”
Ethan pants, sweat slicking his skin. “I’ll never give you what you want. Do your worst.” I nod once. Collin pulls on a fresh pair of gloves and picks up the scalpel. Ethan’s eyes track every movement now, panic bleeding through bravado. His breathing stutters in and out. “I don’t know who she is!” he blurts. “I didn’t know Aria would get hurt!”
Collin presses the blade just above the skin, pausing. “This is your last chance,” he says under his breath. “Talk.”
Ethan breaks. “She was brought in as a CI,” he rushes out. “Agent Alex. Confidential informant. That’s all I know. I swear.”
My patience snaps. At any other time, I’d let Collin keep going. I don’t have time. Aria could be–no. I squeeze that shit out of my mind before it finishes. I pull out my gun, shove Collin aside, and fire. The gunshot cracks through the apartment. The bullet tears into Ethan’s kneecap. He screams, body arching in pure agony.
“Ah—fuck! You bastard!”
I grab his collar and drag his face close to mine. “You think I have time for your bullshit?” I hiss. “Start talking, or I’ll ruin you in ways you can’t imagine.”
