It was like a puzzle to me.
But watching them extract information in blood was its own form of art.
I settled in at the back of the room, my laptop already poised, waiting to take down whatever secrets he spilled.
Ronan reached forward, ripping off the duct tape unceremoniously.
“You fucker,” the guy spit out, glaring at us now.
Clearly, he wasn’t pleased with the way this conversation was going already.
“Who hired you? You clearly knew we were coming.”
“I was bait,” he taunted. “Looks like it worked.”
“You’re the last one alive,” Ronan mused, trailing the ice pick in his hand across the man’s throat. A trail of blood trickled down as pure hatred burned in his eyes. “Hardly sounds like a win to me.”
He went still, but was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
“Who told you where we’d be?” Ronan tried again. “This isn’t exactly our usual territory.”
“I don’t kiss and tell.”
Ronan sighed like he was just being a difficult child. “Now that was the wrong answer.”
Ronan lunged so fast the man didn’t even have time to brace himself, the pick lodging itself in his leg. He was practiced enough not to hit anything major, but the way he yanked it back, flaying his leg was brutal. That pain should be enough for him to start talking.
He was breathing heavily now, panting as he fought through the pain. “Fuck you,” he bit out, neck straining against the pain. “You’re a fucking asshole.”
“Oh? Is it any different than what you would’ve done to us?” Ronan asked as he trailed the pick lower and wrapped his fingers around the pick, lodging it deeper and earning a fresh scream.
“It was never fucking personal. It’s ajob.”
“Then you picked the wrong fucking profession,” I finally piped in, unable to stop myself.
His head snapped to mine, and he let out a smile that was full of blood.
“What are you, their backup plan? Sitting pretty over there, avoiding the bloodshed?” His voice was breathless and raspy now but he was fighting through it.
“Don’t even talk to him,” Ronan said as the pick sliced across his face. Before the pain could truly register, he smacked his hand onto the fresh wound to drive his point home.
The guy groaned, but, apparently, wasn’t done being an idiot yet.
“Oh, I get it. You’re their replacement because they can’t get any omega pussy, huh?”
This time it was Nikolai who moved. He pushed off of the wall where he was waiting before stalking forward and burying one of his smaller knives into the man’s thigh and twisting it. Blood seeped along the edges and poured down his leg as the man gasped, the sound low and guttural.
“Who hired you?” Ronan asked again. His voice was calm and serene like this was relaxing for him. Knowing my best friend, it probably was. Somehow torture was easier than navigating forging a new pack.
“One of your own, wasn’t it? I think we both know that. Maybe you should get a handle on that.”
“And how do you know he was one of ours?” I challenged.
I was supposed to be the quiet one. Ronan looked amused, but didn’t call me on it.
“Aren’t Crows all the fucking same?” he laughed before wheezing and spitting blood, hitting Ronan right in the chest. A crude streak of saliva and blood dripped down but he didn’t react.
He was still panting against the pain, but pretending it wasn’t as bad as it was.
