Page 34 of Clubs

I didn’t know how she did it. Tortured. Never once had I tortured someone. Killed, yes, because I had to, but it was never about fun for me.

And that’s what was so bizarre here. She wasn’t enjoying it, but holy shit, she was good at it.

“Why were you in my sister’s room?” Brooke asked. She had a fistful of his hair in her hand, craning his head as far back as possible to meet her gaze. “What the hell are you doing here? Is it about her? Is this about Ria?”

Sobbing, the man shook his head. “I don’t know Ria.”

Brooke lifted the blade to his neck and sliced quickly across it. Her knowledge of anatomy must’ve been excellent, because she only went deep enough to maim. Not murder.

“Keep lying to me,” she said. “I can do this all day. I think the longest I’ve tortured someone was about thirty-six hours. By then,”—she laughed, but it was hollow—“I was so delirious. I was trying to slice his leg, and I cut off a ball.”

There went all of my arousal.

“Ended up killing the guy. Really wish I hadn’t, because he did have information that I needed. But apparently, he wasn’t giving it up. So, I did what I had to do.” Grabbing a hold of his cheeks, pinching them between her thumb and forefinger, she stared deeply into his eyes. “If you think I won’t do it again, you’re an idiot. Half an inch deeper, and you’d be dead. So answer my god damned question. Why were you in Ria’s room?”

The skin on his neck had mended, at least partly, and he was able to sob again. “I swear, I don’t know her.”

“Alright then. If you’re not gonna talk, you’re useless.” Brooke lifted the blade high into the air, ready to plunge into his chest.

But just as she lowered it, he screamed, “Stop!”

“I think you need to give her a reason,” I said, crossing my legs and straightening on the bed. “Looks like she’s running out of patience.”

“When it comes to my family?” Holding the tip of the blade to the center of his chest, she gave the most gruesome smile. “I’d kill for them. I’d die for them. If you don’t give me a good god damned reason for why you’re here, I’ll prove it.”

And suddenly, it all made sense.

That’s why she was able to do this. No, this wasn’t sexual to Brooke. No, it wasn’t satisfying. No, she got no joy out of it.

It was survival. That’s what this was to her. Torturing this man, torturing all of the people she had for the Chambers, it was about doing what she had to do in order to survive. Protect her sister. Protect herself. Pay the bills however possible.

Her determination to survive. Her fear of losing the person she cared about most. Her baby sister.

That was what she sold when she worked for the Chambers. Her soul, maybe. That’s what she had to give up to survive.

“I needed money, alright?” Oliver said. “Davey. That’s his name. I met him at my dealer’s house. He asked me if I wanted to make some cash. Said he’d get me some dope. All I had to do was come here and wreck your place. Make you scared. But I swear, I don’t know you. I don’t know your sister. I just want to get high, man. I was so sick, and I just needed to get high. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

There it was.

Through all this, Brooke had shown no emotion. But now, there was the faintest glimmer of sympathy in her eyes. Probably for the same reason there had been that vicious hate a moment prior. Because he was an addict. Because she saw her baby sister in him. Because of the countless times Ria would’ve done anything to get high.

And then, as quickly as her sympathy had come, it was gone. That hard, emotionless face was back again.

Pushing the tip of the blade into Oliver’s chest, barely enough to draw blood, she said, “Where’s Davey live?”

Crying, Oliver shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Brooke pushed the tip of the blade in further. She stayed steady, unwavering as he cried for her to stop. She didn’t though. She hadn’t stopped once when he begged her to. “You don’t know? Or you don’t want to tell me?”

“I can’t!” Writhing, trembling in his chains, Oliver shook his head once more. He shook his head so hard that I was almost certain his neck would break, and it would go flying across the room like a bowling ball. “You know I can’t! He’ll kill me. If I tell you anything, he’ll fucking kill me!”

Again, Brooke only pushed the tip of the blade in deeper. It was a little more than an inch in there now. I had no idea how she was pulling it off. His ribs were right there. But for all I know, that sadistic beauty was pushing the blade in right between them, intentionally avoiding the bone. “You don’t think I will?”

Another heart-wrenching sob. “Please. Please, just let me go. I told you everything I—”

Yanking the blade from his chest, she slammed it into his shoulder instead. She waited until he stopped screaming to continue. “No, you didn’t. You didn’t tell me where Davey lived. You didn’t tell me where your dealer lives. Give me one of those answers and I’ll let you go. We can pretend this never happened, Oliver. But if you don’t give me something soon, I’m going to put this blade through your fucking heart and let my boyfriend eat it off the tip.”

I grimaced. I had never eaten a person, although I’d been told by other Werewolves that it was a pleasant experience. Vampires, though? I wasn’t so sure about. I imagined they tasted as old as they smelled.

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