Page 78 of Jolt's Vengeance

The barbed hooks tear into his flesh as he struggles more, fresh rivers of blood trickling down his torso.

The spiders, disturbed by the sudden movement, begin to swarm, several of them sinking their fangs into Paulie's exposed skin.

"Get them off!" Paulie wails, his eyes wide with terror. "Please, I'm begging you! I'll tell you anything you want to know, just get these fucking things off me!"

"Fair enough, Paulie," Widow says, his voice calm and steady. "Let's make a deal. You give us some solid information, and we'll start removing these eight-legged friends of yours one by one. Sound good?"

Paulie nods frantically, tears streaming down his face. "Yes, anything! Just... please..."

As Widow steps closer to continue interrogation, I’m revulsed and impressed.

This is the ugly side of club business, the part that keeps me up at night sometimes.

But as I watch Paulie's walls come crumbling down because of these damn eight-legged terrors, I can't deny its effectiveness, and these are the times where I know I’m learning from the best.

Widow's eyes narrow as he scrutinizes Paulie, who's writhing in agony. I can't help but admire the calculated precision in Widow's methods. It's fucked up, sure, but there's an art to it.

I lean in, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Hey, Widow," I whisper, careful not to let Paulie hear, "these spiders... they dangerous?"

A smirk plays at the corner of Widow's mouth. "Oh yeah. Desert brown recluse. Nasty little fuckers."

He turns to Paulie, raising his voice. "If you're not careful, they'll keep biting. And trust me, you don't want that. Necrotic lesions ain't pretty. Luckily for you, we have an anti-venom I can give you after this whole shin-dig is over with. If you deserve it."

I suppress a shudder, imagining the damage those tiny fuckers can do.

Part of me feels sick, but another part... fuck, another part is impressed by how Widow's working this guy.

Paulie's face contorts in terror. "Please! I'll flip on the Kodiaks! I’ll tell you more. I’m sorry I lied, I’m just afraid of what’s gonna happen to me when I get outta here! Just get these things off me!"

Widow cocks an eyebrow. "That so?"

"I swear!" Paulie's voice cracks. "Look, I'm just tryin' to be a good father, yeah? A provider for my girl, for my kids. It was just a job, man. I didn't mean no harm!"

I watch Paulie, seeing the desperation in his eyes.

For a moment, I wonder if I'd do the same in his position.

Would I compromise my morals to keep my family fed?

"A job, huh?" I can't help but interject, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "Funny how 'just a job' involves burning down our shit and putting people at risk."

Widow shoots me a look—part warning, part approval.

I get it—we're playing good cop, bad cop here.

Or maybe it's bad cop, worse cop.

Either way, I'm learning.

Widow nods slowly, his face unreadable.

Without a word, he pulls out his phone and starts tapping away.

I watch, curiosity gnawing at me, wondering who he's messaging.

The silence stretches, broken only by Paulie's ragged breathing and the faint skittering of spiders across his skin.

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