Page 52 of Exile and Embrace

I reach out and grab the top corner of his seat, tilting him back slightly. “Now, you’re going to want to think carefully about your choice. I don’t want to break your bones, starting with your fingers. Hate the sound. But I will if I have to.”

His hands flex where they’re tied to the arms of the chair. His wrists are rubbed raw and blood soaks the ropes.

Dawson chuckles in the corner, shaking his head. “Finn, stop toying with him.”

Cillian nods. “It’s clear that Murphy has made his choice.”

The bright fluorescent lights shine overhead as I shove the chair backward. Murphy collides with the ground, groaning as his head bounces off the white tile.

I move to crouch beside his head. “I was hoping that you were going to tell them everything you know instead of wasting my time. If I come home with blood on my shirt one more time, I’m going to be upsetting a very important person.” As I say the words, a niggling in the back of my head lets me know I mean every single one of them.

Murphy screams muffled curses through the gag as I set the chair upright.

“Luckily, I won’t get blood on me when I break your fingers.”

I grab his index finger and snap it.

The sickening crunch is barely audible as Murphy continues to shout against the gag.

When I look at Cillian, he gives a sharp jerk of his chin.

Murphy tries to move away from me as I grab another finger.

I bend it backward and pull out his gag.

Murphy spits on the ground at my feet. “Fuck you all.”

The finger snaps.

He howls with pain as I take another finger and bend it.

The color drains from his face as he swallows hard.

Cillian smirks. “Make this easy on yourself, Murphy. Who the fuck stole my gun shipment?”

Murphy’s breath comes in sharp bursts as a dark stain appears on the front of his pants. “Dorian Roach.”

Cillian spins on his heel and leaves the room.

The heavy metal door slams shut behind him.

I pull the gun from the holster on my hip.

Murphy’s gaze darts to the gun before looking up at me. “Let me go. Please. You don’t have to do this. You can let me go, and Cillian never has to know. Both of you. I can make it worth your while. I’ll disappear.”

The metal mouth of the gun meets his temple.

My finger wraps around the trigger. “I’d know. Besides, you made your bed, and now it’s time to lie in it.”

The gunshot echoes through the room as Murphy’s body slumps to the side, remaining seated in the chair due to his bindings.

A thin rivulet of blood trickles down the side of his face.

On the other side of the room, the doors swing open.

The cleaning crew walks in, already dressed in white disposable jumpsuits.

Dawson grins as I tuck the gun back in my holster. “Looks like our job’s done here for the day. What do you say we get out of here?”

---