Page 61 of The Devil's Pawn

“Dante…”

My whispered name on her breath practically sends me over the edge, but with one final glance, I turn around and leave her there, standing alone, while I head to the basement to do what must be done.

Pulling the door open, I start descending down and hear the screams of one man. Guess my brother couldn’t wait to start the fun without me.

“This is just a taste of what will happen to you both,” Enzo says. “So, choose: your allegiance to the family or to yourself.”

“I don’t know shit!” one of them bellows as I take the last few steps. “If I did, I would tell you, I swear.”

“No you wouldn’t,” I interrupt, now seeing it was Jared, the accountant talking. “That blood on your mouth, that swollen fucking eye, was just a welcome gift.”

I look at Enzo.

“I think they need a little more to convince them. Don’t you, brother?”

“I was saving that for you.” The grin spreads over his face like a snake’s bite.

I move toward the two men, each sitting on a chair, no longer blindfolded, but hands still tied behind them. They’re both way older than us, probably in their forties, or maybe early fifties. There’s a bit of gray at the sides of Jared’s hair, while Victor has none, his brown hair thinning out at the top of his head.

One of them has to know something.

Our people can’t find the lawyer yet. It’s as though he’s vanished. We keep hitting dead ends. It’s enraging. Those kids are out there, needing help, and we can’t give it to them if we don’t know where the hell to look.

Approaching the corner of the basement, I open the closet, finding a small black zippered bag where I keep my toys. Not the good kind, but the kind that’ll provoke anyone to talk. If they still choose to keep silent, then there’s only one way out of here, and that’s through painful death.

“So…” I say with my back to them as I open the bag, the sound of the zipper resonating through the large space. “Should we do this the very bloody way or the humane way?”

I take out a paring knife, plus two eight-inch chef’s knives, the bright blue resin handles custom made for me. The designer had no idea what I’d be using them for, though. I remove the honing steel next, which is used to sharpen my blades.

When I rise to my feet and lay the items on the coffee table beside them, I see the fear sitting quietly across their faces, their gasping growing heavy.

“See…” I lift one knife and slowly swipe it over the steel. “My brother Dom prefers to use torches, but me, I’m old school. Knives are a lot more fun, don’t you think?”

“Fuck you,” Victor bites out, his lips set in a sneer. “I know who you people are. I’m not afraid of you pussies. No matter what you do, I ain’t talkin’.”

“They always think they won’t talk, right?” I chuckle at Enzo to my right.

“Every damn time,” he agrees. “You think I have time to get some popcorn before you start the show?”

I lift up one glistening blade in the air, appreciating its beauty as I stare at the sharp, pointy edges.

“You might miss the intro.”

“Guess I’ll stick around, then. The beginning is always the most fun.”

“With the way I start…” A grin slides to my mouth. “I think so.”

I approach Victor, the mentally stronger one. If I start with him and show the accountant what he’ll be experiencing, I think he’ll be the one to talk.

“Did you know it only takes about five minutes to die after your femoral artery is severed?”

Their eyes settle on the tip of the knife, which is pointing at the ceiling.

“But you can bleed out even faster, especially with the way I cut.”

I take my time reaching Victor, and once I’m in front of him, I slowly drag the edge of the blade down his inner thigh, making sure it punctures through his jeans.

He hisses and grits his teeth as drops of blood seep through the fabric.

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