Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 121946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
So, I’m not too worried about our safety as I swing the door open and walk inside. It slams shut behind me, and I find it exactly how I thought it would be.
Unlocked and heavy as shit.
I can only imagine this warehouse stores Tobias’s drugs, and now it holds one more thing.
Our enemy.
I’m taken aback by what I see when I walk farther into the warehouse. But then I straighten my back and let the bile settle.
It seems the men were already having a bit of fun before I arrived.
Paul is naked, other than welts and bruises.
His arms are locked behind his back and tied behind the chair. He took a beating before I came. Blood is caked all over his body, some fresh and some dried. It looks like a combination of fists and knives. Then cuts meant to extend his torture as long as possible.
Cliché again, but I guess this is what happens in the underworld.
I would have settled for blackmail.
Nudity?
Not my cup of tea, unless it’s Payton, and we’re both about to reach an orgasm or ten . . .
But I’m sure it’s needed here.
Lorenzo doesn’t do anything without a reason.
Entertainment is a reason.
He’s a sick bastard like that.
But this time, there’s a reason for his cruelty.
I think they’re searching for a tracking device on Paul’s body because the cuts are strategically placed and only deep enough to find the type of devices he’s known for using—close to the surface. A small metal rod implant, as Jax mentioned in the meeting leading up to today.
Paul must hear me because as I stride closer, out of the shadows, my footsteps echoing around us, he lifts his head.
Can he even see me?
His eyes are swollen and basically glued together with blood.
I walk over to where Lorenzo is standing.
“What did you find out?”
“Nothing yet, but you’re here just in time.” He flashes a sinister grin. “The fun is about to start.”
Paul’s trying to appear strong, but he’s not fooling anyone.
Not with the way his hands shake beneath the rope that ties him to the chair.
He’s fucked, and he knows it.
He’s a dead man.
No matter what he says, Lorenzo will kill him.
How painful will it be? Well, that’s yet to be decided. I’m sure if he cooperates, maybe (and that’s a big maybe) Lorenzo will take mercy on him and give him a quick and painless death.
Doubt it.
I nod to Lorenzo to begin, and then I move to get closer.
When I’m standing directly in front of him, I look down at his mangled, bloody body. “You can make this easy or hard. Your choice.”
“Fuck you, pretty boy,” he responds.
He spits out blood, barely missing my shoe.
“Very well. Hard it is.” I nod again, and this time, Lorenzo steps beside me with a cleaver.
“For every question you don’t answer, you lose a finger,” he says casually as if he’s talking about what he plans on eating later.
Paul spits toward us again. He’s so weak right now, he misses for a second time. The blood and saliva hit the floor.
“Did you try to kill Payton?” I ask. Hard. Tense. Waiting for his answer.
When he doesn’t give one, the cleaver is lifted.
The instinctual urge to turn away and let Lorenzo handle this grips me, but I don’t. In the corner of the room, Matteo, Tobias, and Cyrus stand. They are here for support, but this is my girl.
My plan.
My revenge.
I need to go all the way.
With a quick look to me for confirmation, Lorenzo steps up. He’s ready. The cleaver raises right over Paul’s hand.
“You may want to hold the finger out,” Lorenzo drawls. “I can’t promise I won’t chop off more otherwise.”
Within a second, a bloodcurdling scream rings through the air. Blood splatters everywhere. I look down.
Paul chose the middle finger.
“Did you hire someone to stalk Payton?” I ask.
Again, he doesn’t answer.
“Guess he loses another one,” Lorenzo says, and my friends laugh. It is loud and raucous. Borderline obnoxious.
The sound echoes across the warehouse. It sounds like there are more than us here. Like a viewing room to Paul’s pain.
“Tell us what we want to know,” I press.
“Maybe you should ask better questions,” he spits back.
“Or maybe we should try better forms of torture.” Lorenzo walks over to the pliers on the table, and I know he’s about to rip Paul’s fingernails out one by one.
Then after, he’ll probably cut his fingers off.
Fuck.
I should never get on Lorenzo’s bad side.
I widen my stance, crossing my arms. “Just tell us what we want to know.”
“I didn’t try to kill your bitch,” Paul snaps with a dry laugh. “That would have been too easy.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I kick his chair, stepping on the bottom leg to straighten it just before he starts to fall.
He shakes his head. “I know all about your girl, but I wasn’t the one to run her stupid ass over.”