Page 27 of Depraved

Carlos's head snapped to the side from the force of the blow, a strangled cry escaping his lips. His eyes went wide with shock and pain, pupils dilating as he struggled to focus. A thin line of crimson spittle dribbled from the corner of his mouth, staining his already filthy shirt.

The ring left a deep gash across his cheekbone, the edges ragged and angry. I could see a glint of white where the bone was exposed beneath torn flesh. The ruby gleamed wetly, now slick with Carlos's blood—a fitting christening I supposed.

Behind me, I heard Alex's sharp intake of breath, followed by River's low, approving growl. Sarge remained silent, but I could feel the weight of his steady gaze on my back. The tension in the room ratcheted up another notch, the air practically crackling with barely contained violence.

He spat blood, his teeth crimson as he slurred— “You kill me, and my guys have the go ahead to execute your mother.”

My blood ran cold. "You don't know anything about my mother."

Carlos's split lips curved into a bloody grin. "Oh, but I do. Claudia Ro?u, living in a quaint little house in Albuquerque. Teaching second grade at Jefferson Elementary School. Such a kind woman, always baking cookies for the neighborhood kids."

With deliberate slowness, I turned away from Carlos and walked to the far wall. There, almost invisible unless you knew exactly where to look, was a small indent. I pressed my palm against it, feeling the hidden mechanism whir to life.

A section of the stark white wall slid open silently, revealing a drawer lined with pink velvet. Inside lay an array of tools, each one custom-made to my exact specifications. The sight of them sent a familiar thrill through me, a mixture of anticipation and dark pleasure.

I ran my fingers lovingly over the implements, each one a work of art in its own right. Scalpels with blades so sharp they could split a hair lengthwise, their handles inlaid with diamonds. Pliers of various sizes, some designed for delicate work on fingers and toes, others sturdy enough to crack ribs. A delicate pair of rose-gold forceps winked at me, tiny diamondsembedded in the handles catching the harsh fluorescent light. Beside them lay a matching set of curved hooks.

“Holy shit—” Alex hissed. “I’ve ever been so fucking turned on.”

I selected a pair of delicate forceps, their rose-gold handles cool against my palm. Diamonds winked at me as I turned back to Carlos, a smile playing at the corners of my lips.

"Now then," I purred, sauntering back towards him. "Let's have a little chat about those trucks at the docks, shall we? I'm simply dying to know more about your extracurricular activities."

Carlos's eyes widened, darting between my face and the forceps in my hand. Sweat beaded on his brow, mingling with the blood still oozing from the gash on his cheek.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered, his bravado crumbling.

Itsked, shaking my head in mock disappointment. "Oh Carlos, lying is so unbecoming. And here I thought we were going to have an honest conversation." With exaggerated care, I used the forceps to pluck at a loose thread on his sleeve. "Those girls in the trucks—they weren't exactly our usual cargo, were they? A bit young for the clubs, I'd wager."

Carlos flinched as I leaned in close, my breath hot against his ear. "Tell me, did you have a favorite? A pretty little thing you were keeping for yourself, perhaps?"

"You're insane," Carlos spat, but I could hear the tremor in his voice.

I laughed. "Insane? Oh no, Uncle. I'mperfectlysane. You, on the other hand..." I trailed off, tapping the forceps against my chin thoughtfully. "Well, it takes a special kind of sicko to buy and sell little girls, doesn't it?"

Carlos's face drained of color, his eyes darting frantically around the room. I could practically see the gears turning in his head as he searched for a way out.

"You have no proof," he blustered, but his voice lacked conviction.

I leaned in close, my lips brushing his ear. "Don't I? Those shipping manifests make for some very interesting reading. All those crates of Raul’s glass your best buddy Quincy was supposed to be ferrying? Funny how they never seemed to make it to any of our usual distribution centers."

Carlos swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, cutting a path through the drying blood on his cheek.

"It's not what you think," he stammered. "I was just trying to diversify our income streams. Expand into new markets."

"New markets?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Is that what we're calling it now? Tell me, Carlos, how exactly does one 'diversify' with terrified children locked in shipping containers?"

Carlos's face contorted with rage. "You bitch," he snarled. "You have no idea what you're dealing with. I have powerful friends—connections you can't even imagine. You think you can just waltz in here and take over? You're nothing but Raul's little pet project, a stray dog he picked up off the streets!"

I smiled coldly, trailing the forceps down his cheek. "Unfortunately for you, I'm so much more than that. I'm the woman who's going to make you beg for death before this night is over."

Without warning, I plunged the forceps into his left nostril. Carlos screamed, the sound high and piercing as I twisted the metal implement. Blood gushed from his nose, staining his shirt crimson.

"Now then," I purred, ignoring his agonized wails. "Let's try this again. Tell me about those trucks at the docks. And Carlos?"I leaned in close, my lips brushing his ear. "If you lie to me again, I'll rip your fucking nose off."

Carlos sobbed, snot and blood bubbling from his nostrils. "Please," he whimpered. "I'll tell you everything. Just—just stop."

I twisted the forceps again, eliciting another shriek. "I'm listening."

---