Page 32 of All the Dangerous Things

I stood before Francis, and the scent of piss, blood, dirt, and excrement wafted up from him, making me shake my head in disgust.

The world wouldn’t miss this fucker.

“You know why you're here,” I said, my voice low and menacing. “You have information we need on the motherfucker who hurt our sister.”

Francis started trembling even harder and shook his head frantically, blood and sweat dripping down his face. “I swear I don't know anything.”

Nikolai let out a dark chuckle and stepped up next to me, so we were once again side-by-side. The glint of metal in my peripheral had me lookingdown at Nikolai’s hand. He wielded a blood-covered knife, his knuckles white as he held it in an iron grip.

“Doesn’t matter if you do or don’t,” Nikolai was the one to answer. “You’re dying a slow and painful death tonight regardless.”

I circled the chair, feeling like the predator I very much was, as he continued.

“Our sister Tatiana was attacked.” Nikolai ran the tip of the dull blade along the side of Francis’s head. “We want to know who did it. And you're going to tell us.”

Francis started crying even harder, and my impatience grew.

“I don't know shit, man. Please. I was getting high all night. I couldn't tell you what time or even day it was.”

I looked at Nikolai to see him grinning, his smile cold and devoid of any warmth. “You can tell us on your own, or I’ll get the information out of you the hard way. I know which routeIwant to go, but I promise it isn’t the oneyouwant.”

Nikolai slid the knife down to the man’s carotid and pressed the blade in just enough it broke the skin and drew a thin line of blood.

I leaned in close, my mouth inches from Francis’s ear. My voice was low and filled with deadly intention. “You can cry and bleed and piss your pants all fucking night. We have all the time in the world to get the information out of you.”

Nikolai chuckled. “Butyoudon't have all the time in the world. If I were you, I’d start talking.”

Francis sobbed harder, snot bubbling out of his nose. “W-What do you want to know?”

I gritted my teeth, my patience wearing thin. I grabbed a chunk of hair at the back of his head and yanked it. “Tell us about the fight last week. I know there have been rumors about Tatiana getting attacked and someone taking out the man who did it.”

“The lowlifes of Desolation can’t keep their fucking mouths shut,” Nikolai spat out.

Francis was quiet for a moment aside from the intermittent sounds of him sniffling. “Y-Yeah. Just shitheads talking. A new group coming up in their conversations. I didn’t pay any attention because, truthfully, I was tapping a vein and didn’t give a fu?—”

Nikolai pressed the blade harder into his neck. “Last chance, motherfucker.”

Francis cried out and started stammering even more. “A-All I heard was that they… they c-call themselves The S-Stygian Syndicate, and… and… and the man who h-hurt your sister was p-p-part of th-their group.”

Nikolai dragged the knife away and stood to his full height, looking at me with a cocked eyebrow. “What kind of dumb fucking name is The Stygian Syndicate for a crime organization?”

“A group that will soon be buried in the underworld they derived their fucking name from.” I released my grip on Francis’s hair, and the piece of shit’s head slumped forward, the ropes keeping his body upright in the chair. “Who was the douchebag who hurt her?”

Spit and blood dribbled out of his mouth. While we hadn’t punched him in the face—no matter how badly both of us craved to—our men roughed him up quite a bit while extracting him from the trap house, getting him here, and then binding him to his current seat.

“What does it matter now? He’s dead,” he mumbled.

So much for not punching him.

I slammed my fist into the back of his head, and he made a choking sound as the force caused the chair to crash forward. The spindly legs broke from the impact, the ropes loosening. But Francis was tooinjured to do much but squirm like the slimy worm he was.

“Q. His name was Q Rahman, and he was one of their enforcers.”

Nikolai clucked his tongue. “You've been very helpful, Francis.”

“Please. I don’t want to die.”

I stared at his arms when he rolled to his back, splintered wood all around him like some sort of broken, fucked-up frame. The crooks of his arms showed dirty track marks and countless scars.

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