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Blood splatters from his nose.

“Stop!”

I turn to Zaiya. She takes a step forward, eyes pleading. Not for him. For the answers he’ll take with him if I go too far.

I throw the bat on the floor.

“Did you kill Asher Zapera?” I ask him calmly.

His sobs are mixed with quiet laughs. Insanity, maybe. Or he’s reached the point where pain gets so bright you can’t think straight.

He sniffs and spits out blood, gathering himself before speaking.

“Wasting time asking questions when you already know the answer.”

That indifference sharpens my rage into a weapon.

I grab his jaw, slick with blood, and force him to look at Zaiya, holding him there so he really sees her. Sees who he kidnapped, who he fucked over.

“She needs to hear it from your mouth.”

He struggles, but his grin only widens like he’s proud of himself.

“You know what she needs to hear?” He fixes his eyes on her. “All of this is because of you.”

Zaiya flinches like he struck her.

My grip tightens. I’ll break his mandible if I need to, but I want him to talk.

He keeps going. “You were the one he was promised. If you had been a good, obedient little girl, your stupid fucking brother would still be alive.”

My fist slams into his face.

The sound is ugly. Blood pours from his nose in a steady stream now. His breath turns wet and ragged.

Tears gloss Zaiya’s gray eyes, but she steps forward.

“Who was I promised to?”

Ray leans back in the chair, blood flowing down his chest. He smiles as if he enjoys forcing her to ask.

“Does it matter? You’re gonna kill me either way.”

“No one’s going to kill you,” she says, and I raise an eyebrow because the lie is so clean. “This is your opportunity to redeem yourself. To help me.”

He laughs softly and looks down at his mangled hands.

“Why the fuck would I want to do that?”

Zaiya hesitates, so I step closer, giving her my presence to lean on.

“Because this is where truth can buy you something other than pain,” I say.

Ray’s eyes shift to me. He tries to look defiant. Tries to make himself big even while tied to a chair, battered and bleeding.

“I don’t give a shit. I did what I was paid to do.”

“Paid by who?” Zaiya asks.