Page 84 of Daddy's Reluctant Queen

“I thought I taught you better than this, Cyrus,” I go on. “Knives are fine for information. Not for torture unless you’ve got the skill for it.”

“You talk too much,” he says, twisting the knife in his hands. “You know, you also taught me there’s more than way to torture someone. More than one way to bring them to their knees. Sometimes, you can make it happen without laying a hand on them. Right?”

I glare at him, all the while analyzing the thing that’s holding my wrists. Are these… zip ties? I could almost smile at him for that mistake.

“For the record, you were right about one thing,” he says. “I did lie to you back at Center Parkway. About your Penza bitch.”

I glare at him. My rage warms my skin, brightening something in my chest.

“She never ran,” he goes on. “Cyril said something about her devotion after that last dust up with her. She’s passionate about those people she cares about. I’ll give her that.”

“Don’t you talk about her.”

“Oh, but I think you want to know what I have to say,” he says. “You see, Cyril figured that if you somehow convinced her that her brother was still alive, then she’d most likely have given up any plans of running or taking her revenge on you. That was confirmed when you brought her to the warehouse to see him. Pretty smart for a bonehead like him, huh? I was impressed.”

He starts to pace, and I start to twist my wrists together, testing the boundaries of the ties.

“Did you know her story? About her training, I mean. So, apparently, she trained with Stasio as a child,” he says brightly. “You didn’t know that, did you? I’ll bet she never said anything about it either.”

My skin goes cold. Of course. That’s where she knows how to handle a gun. I should have guessed it. And I should have guess that Cyrus would find that out as well.

“Well, according to Stasio, she is very good with a gun.” He laughs. “Almost better than she is at hand to hand combat. If she were a man, she’d have been such a fucking asset to her father’s Bratva.’

“Anyway, we rented out the one office in the perfect spot in this building and emptied it out, and Cyril waited. We didn’t think that she would be the one to show up with as many choices as you’ve had, but…”

He leaves the last part hanging and a icy slice of panic runs through me. Shit.Shit. Sons of bitches. I could kill them. I could kill them both with my bare hands.

“Don’t worry about her,” he says. “I’ve got no plans to kill her… yet. You haven’t used her up entirely, so after you’re dead, we’ll take over where you left off.” He smiles broadly at me, all of his teeth displayed. “She’s a nice piece of ass, isn’t she? A body like that should last quite a while. Can’t wait to get a taste.”

“You will not touch her.”

“Sure, Titus,” he says. He lifts the knife and walks toward me. “When I’m fucking her in the ass tonight, I’ll make sure to let her know that. I’ll also tell her how you screamed like the pig you are as you died.”

He raises the knife to my face and I take my chance, lifting my arms and slamming them against the metal of the chair. The zip ties break and I grab his wrist.

He freezes, looking up at me with terror in his eyes as I stand up.

“Your first mistake was believing that I’d gone soft,” I growl. I twist his wrist back and his mouth drops as a strangled moan leaps from his lips. “And then zip ties, Cyrus? After I went through all the fucking effort to outfit these rooms with chains?”

I twist his wrist up sharply. The bones in his shoulder twist and break under my grip as the knife falls from his hands. His knees buckle and he drops. I let him go and he lies on the floor in the fetal position, holding his arm.

“Fuck,” he says. “My fucking shoulder!”

I kick him in the stomach and he makes a gagging groan as he twists himself forward more. I put my foot on his shoulder and kick him on his back. He wails out in agony.

“You know what the penalty for treason is, don’t you?” I say, picking up his knife. “So what’s it going to be, Cyrus? Balls or head?”

His eyes flicker with shock. “Wh-What?”

“I need to hang something up at the gate around my house so the rest of the idiots foolish enough to follow you know better than to ever cross me again.”

Sheer panic is in his eyes as he mutters an anguished yell and tries to scramble away. I stomp on his ankle, and more bones break under my boot. He cries out in agony.

“I tried my best with you,” I say. He turns over and tries to crawl away, half dragging himself and half trying to get to his feet. I stomp out his ankle. It crunches loudly under my heel.

“FUCK!”

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” I say as I walk around to block him. I kneel down in front of him, yanking him by the hair. “If you tell me where my son and Sofia are, I’ll make it quick.”