Page 119 of Bratva Butcher

But there was a part of me—this small, minuscule, barely recognizable part—that wasn’t entirely sure that was true anymore.

“Wake him up.”

Smirk on his lips, Mikhail threw the bucket of ice-cold water into Anthony’s face. The naked man startled awake, gasping in shock. Dazed, confused eyes glanced around the room before landing on me, sitting in front of him.

I smiled. “Hello, Anthony.”

“Wha-what’s going on?” he rasped. “Who are you? Where am I?” He tried to move, but he was securely strapped to the chair that was bolted to the floor. “Why the fuck am I tied up?!”

“So many questions.” I leant back in my chair with a sigh, placing my ankle over my knee. “I suppose, given the circumstances, I can understand. My name is Dimitri Volkov.The man behind me is Mikhail. You’re in a place I call The Pit. And the reason why you’re here is because you have information we need.”

It had been a bitch taking him out of Allistair’s estate without arousing suspicion last night. We’d actually been stopped several times, but Mikhail had come up with a wonderful excuse as to why we had Anthony’s arms flung over our shoulders as we dragged him to the door.

He’d drunk too much, passed out and we were helping him get home.

Absolutely genius. No one questioned us after that, and we were able to get him in my car with zero interference.

“Information?” Anthony shook his head in confusion. He did a proper look around at his surroundings, and paled at the sight of the blood-stained walls. His eyes shot to the tray of rusty torture instruments next to me, and panic flashed across his face. “No. No, no, no. You’ve got the wrong person! I don’t know anything! Please! Whatever this is about, I’m not involved. I just own a hair salon. You’ve got the wrong guy!”

He was actually pretty convincing. If it wasn’t for the fact that I’d seen him on the security footage with my own eyes, I might have actually believed him.

“Talon Scardo,” was all I said.

His body stiffened, then relaxed. “Never heard of him before.”

I sighed.They always say that.Reaching for the iPad I had sitting on the tray, I brought up the video from outside his hair salon—the one where he ran right into Talon’s arms—and showed it to him.

“Would you like to change your answer?”

Defiance flashed in the man’s eyes. He sat up a little straighter and raised his chin. “No.”

Admirable, considering there was literally brain matter on the floor right next to his bare feet.

“Okay, then.” I put the iPad down and held my hand out, palm facing upwards. “Mikhail, care to choose the first weapon of choice?”

“Oh, yes. I would love to.”

Something cold landed against my skin. I closed my fingers around it.

“A cheese grater?” I hummed. “Interesting choice.”

Mikhail’s lips curled into a sadistic smile. “I like the way it works on human flesh. It’s the easiest, most effective way to skin someone.”

Anthony’s resolve faltered for a mere second before his face set into stone. “You can do whatever sick, twisted things you want to me. I’ll never talk. I love Talon. I’ll never give him up.Never.”

I tilted my head to the side, studying him intently. A sliver of respect cut through me. “You know, I’ve tortured a lot of people in this room,” I said, returning the grater to the tray. I got to my feet and touched one of the walls fondly, the memories swarming me. “Nine times out of ten, they always cave. Usually before I’ve even made the first cut. The prospect of pain can be just as terrifying as the pain itself.”

Anthony swallowed thickly, but remained silent,

“I hate people like that. If youreallyloved someone, no amount of torture, either real or imaginary could get you to turn on them.”

“So, you’re just going to let me go, then?” he asked, full of hope.

“Oh, he’s got a sense of humor,” Mikhail quipped, shaking his head with a chuckle.

“Not quite.” I sat back down. “You’ve got my respect, which is a hard thing to achieve. So, I’m going to do you a favour. I’m going to give you a chance—”

“I already told you, I’m not—”

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