Page 102 of Stricken

A squeal fills the room.

I try not think about a life I'm ruining because the man I'm looking for ruined way more lives. I know Hell is waiting for me. But since I'm already bound for it, I might, as well, do what I must.

The prisoner's resolve shatters. He screams sentences now, words tumbling out in a frantic rush of Spanish. I remove the rod from his body and glance at Esteban, who nods, his expression grim.

The smell of charred skin permeates the air inside.

"He says the Russian man you're after—called Shtyk—is indeed in Guanajuato," Esteban translates. "At a compound on the outskirts of the city."

The man continues to wail and spout words, saliva dripping down his chin.

"The compound is heavily guarded," Esteban continues. "He says it's impossible to get inside or get the man out unless Shtyk leaves, which he never does."

The man's chest heaves, gasps of pain coming out. "No sé nada más, lo juro. I swear, that's all I know," he adds in broken English at the end.

"How do you know this?" I ask. "Who told you?"

Esteban repeats the question in Spanish.

The man shakes his head. "Un hombre," he stammers. "A man who worked there, at the compound in Guanajuato. That's all I know, I swear it… all I know."

I exchange a glance with Esteban, a silent communication passing between us. This is far from over. I need a proper lead to follow.

"What's his name?" I press on. "This man who worked there."

Esteban translates, and the prisoner hesitates. I can see the calculation in his eyes, the desperate attempt to find a way out of this situation. Thing is even if we let him go, he'll probably be dead within a day anyway. Once you're on the cartel's radar, there is no escape, not from this room, not from the consequences of his loyalty.

"Gabriel," the prisoner finally chokes out.

"What's his last name?"

"No sé… no sé."

"He doesn't know his last name," Esteban translates, but that much I understood already.

"Where did he see that man, how long ago?"

The prisoner answers in quick succession. Two weeks ago. A small cantina. He gives a name too. Roughly fifty kilometers from the aforementioned compound. He doesn't know if Gabriel still works there. When they spoke, Gabriel was on vacation.

Tired of this, I set the metal rod aside and scan the captive bastard in the chair. The air feels heavy, charged with death. And the man is on his last breath. He won't survive this.

Still, a name is good. It's not much, but it's a start. A thread to pull, a path to follow.

"I think we're done here," I tell Esteban quietly.

"You have what you need?"

I nod and head for the entrance, Ivan's shadow behind me.

"Have your people look for this Gabriel. Start with that cantina and keep on working outward. We gotta find a way into that place."

"We will do as you say, Vladimir," Esteban replies. And this time his face is serious. Not a hint of that slimy smile.

I will have my vengeance, even if it means descending into the darkest depths of this unforgiving world. Even if it means losing myself, my humanity, completely.

CHAPTER34

NICO

---