Page 62 of Chasing Sarah

I had my way with him for a little while, but he lost consciousness before I could have some real fun.

The door bursts open and Declan’s menacing frame fills the doorway before he storms in. His eyes are trained on the man’s limp body.

“Get me my tools,” he barks, and I move to retrieve his bag that contains the various torture devices he uses.

Declan’s steps become slow and calculating as he begins circling our captive. The jab he gives to the man’s ribs sends his body jolting back and a pained wail erupts from his mouth.

“Now that you’re awake, let’s skip the formalities, shall we?” Declan’s lip curls in a snarl.

The dumbfuck spits at Declan’s feet and I chuckle, setting the bag down on the metal table at the back of the room.

Declan glances at me and Liam. “I do love it when they start this game with a fight. It makes it much more enjoyable when I break them.”

“Aye, Sir.” Liam nods.

With long strides, Declan steps up to his tool bag and begins laying out his tools. His movements are unnerving. When Declan is ready to dismember someone, he becomes inhuman.

“Stupida feccia irlandese.” Stupid Irish scum.The man spits again on the ground, glaring between the three of us.

Italian.

My eyes meet Liam’s for a split second before we stride out of the room.

“Find out where Antonio’s last location was,” I order.

“Aye.” He nods and strides up the steps.

I rub a hand down my face before running it through my hair.

If Antonio is behind this, it means war. But what does he stand to gain? We just set a deal with him for some weapons.

None of this makes sense.

Steeling my shoulders, I step back into the cellar.

The sound of the chains rattling, and the whimpers of the man fill my ears. Declan stands by the table with a carving knife in his grasp.

I meet his eyes before moving my gaze to the man. Blood is already coating his skin and pooling beneath him. A large hook protrudes from his shoulder.

Declan is suddenly behind him and within a second, he’s slicing the Italian’s ear clean off. He tosses it to the ground, and it lands with a wetplop.

The shriek that escapes the man send electricity through my veins.

The rest of the interrogation is bloody beyond comprehension. Declan slices and dices this man’s flesh piece by agonizing piece.

When his head lulls to the side and his body goes limp, I stride to the medicine cabinet and draw up a dose of epinephrine and inject him.

His head jerks up after a few seconds.

The torture continues and again he loses consciousness.

We alternate between torturing him and keeping him alive until finally Declan steps away.

What’s left of the Italian’s body sways slowly. Skin and meat are scattered around.

It’s a miracle the man is even breathing.

“What do we do now that this fucker won’t give us information?” I ask Declan as he washes his hands and arms in the utility sink.

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