“Nothing left behind. All the bodies were disposed of in the Hudson.”

When we wanted to hide a body, we took it to a funeral home in the Bronx—one owned and operated by my company. They were cremated, and their ashes were scattered among those of legitimate patrons. But these lowlifes deserved to wash up eventually. The crimes would be linked to the Russian mob scene, and Vlad would see precisely why not to cross me.

We pulled beneath the hotel into a parking garage before the driver let us out of the car.

Anthony led, heading toward a large door in the back of the lot.

I ground my teeth as I approached, considering the methods I’d use to extract information from the prisoners. We pushed through the metal door, and I allowed it to slam closed behind me. I wanted to let them know I was coming.

Anthony began speaking again. “We can’t leave them alive. There’s a risk that they heard something while we brought them down. A few of the soldiers were talking about a bar your guys frequent, and if that information gets to Vlad—”

“I wasn’t planning on leaving them alive,” I asserted.

I heard them before Anthony led me to the door. It sounded like two of them were shouting for help.

I needed this. I needed to distract myself before I went back home. I’d planned on bringing Lilianna along with me, but after our conversation, I knew I couldn’t risk her being here. I wouldn’t be able to control myself with the constant reminder of her betrayal.

I needed to question these men before killing them.

I grabbed one of my three guns and cocked it before storming into the room.

I saw immediately which of the men were screaming, and I lifted my gun, firing twice.

Both of their bodies went slack, the chains at their wrists holding them upright and preventing them from falling to the ground.

The other three went still and silent as I took them in.

The room was muggy, clinging to the minimally warm day outside. A few water pipes around them dripped, leaving a tapping sound on the concrete. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Nobody said anything, but their wild gazes were fixed on me.

It looked like someone had already done a number on their bodies. One man was missing a shoe, and three of his toes had been amputated. Scratches and bruises spread across every inch of their exposed bodies, and the stains across their shirts told me that they had similar injuries beneath their clothes, too.

These men would be ready to talk.

After seeing their friends killed, I didn’t doubt they would spill any snippet of information to keep them alive.

I needed to let off some steam.

“Where should we begin?” I asked, clapping my hands together before taking a step forward.

***

Only two men remained standing. One had passed out, dripping blood from every crevice of his face. He was still alive. Barely.

I held a serrated knife in my hand, and I twirled the tip of it over my finger, allowing it to draw a small prick of blood. I rubbed my fingers together and looked between the final two men.

“We’ve told you everything,” one of them rasped in exasperation. He shook his head slowly, his restraints holding him upright. I supposed that was because of the sliced tendons in his ankles. “Just kill us.”

I clicked my tongue as I wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead. “Not until I learn something useful.”

The other man noticeably shook before heaving and vomiting bile tinged with blood on the floor in front of him. He coughed and spit the rest out of it from his mouth.

“Please!” he cried.

Had I broken them too efficiently? Neither seemed at all inclined to beg for their lives. I had certainly taken out my rage on their bodies, slicing and punching and kicking until I felt an ounce of my tension ease. As I continued, I threw more weight behind my blows in hopes of easing more of the pent-up anger.

“Do you want this to be over?” I pushed.