Page 8 of We Will Rise

I settle on a small hunting knife to begin with, something that will hurt but won’t make him bleed too much before I can get what I need from him.

I wonder if Rogers could patch him up to stop him from dying on me, I ponder. Something to consider, for sure.

His eyes fall on the knife in my hand as soon as I turn around, and his cocky smile grows. God, if I didn’t already hate this guy for killing the man I loved, I’d hate him for how much he’s underestimating me.

“What are you going to do with that, sweetheart?”

I scoff as I move toward him. “I thought I might start with cutting off a few of your toes and forcing you to stand on the bleeding stumps, then we might get to some more fun stuff.”

There’s a flash of surprise on his face a moment before he laughs. “Has your time with the big boys made you think you can stomach something like that?”

I sigh, twirling the knife between my fingers. “You know, every man that finds himself hanging like this in front of me asks the same kind of question. It seems because I don’t have an appendage swinging between my legs, I couldn’t possibly be just as bloodthirsty as a man could be,” I muse. “Do you know where those men are now?”

He shakes his head.

“Dead. Most of them are missing the appendage that makes them think they have the upper hand when I walk into a room.”

For the first time since I opened the door, there’s a flash of fear in his eyes, but it’s gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

“Now, I’m not going to give you the speech about how we can do this the easy way or the hard way, because you’re already not taking me seriously, but I am going to ask you some questions, and I expect answers. For every answer you withhold, I’ll cut off a finger, a toe, and if you’re really lucky, maybe your dick.”

His eyes widen, and a sick sense of satisfaction washes over me just like it does every time I stand in front of a man like this and tell them all the ways I’m going to hurt them.

“Who hired you to kill Kovu?” I ask. I considered starting with an easier question, buttering him up a little, and showing him how much it’s going to hurt for him if he doesn’t do as I say, but why beat around the bush? He and I both know that’s why he’s here, so we might as well jump straight from the pot to the fire and get this party started.

CHAPTER FIVE

CAMILLA

Idon’t wait for him to respond before I drop into a crouch in front of him and grasp hold of one of his feet. The rattle of the chains alerts me to the fact he’s about to kick at me, and just as he gets the momentum to do exactly that, I sink the knife straight through his foot.

Blood coats my hand and the blade as it drips onto the concrete, and I realize I like it a little too much.

“I asked you a question, and I expect you to answer it,” I say evenly as I tug the knife from his foot and trap his big toe between my fingers. A lot of people in my position start with the small toes for good reason, but while I would love to keep this guy alive and torture him until his heart gives up, I don’t have that kind of time, not when we need to end this thing with Caleb. I won’t have any of the others getting hurt by someone that was meant to care for them.

The knife slices through layers of skin easily, and his screams are a symphony that settles me as I force the blade through the bone.

His entire body shakes as he tries to escape me and occasionally kicks out toward me, but this isn’t my first rodeo, and I duck out of the way each time he tries it.

And yet he still doesn’t answer my question.

Once his toe is severed, I push myself to my feet and hold up his missing appendage for him to see.

The asshole is doing his best to appear unaffected by the pain he’s in, but the way his entire body trembles and how he has all his weight resting on his other foot gives him away.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Todd.”

“Good, it seems you are capable of answering my questions. Who do you normally work for, Todd?”

“The Davenports. I do some low-level transport.”

I nod and drop the toe to the ground at his feet, having got my point across for the moment. “I see. And how long have you worked for Charles?”

“Four years.”

“And you’re still low-level?” I cock a brow.

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