Page 129 of Legacy

Steel nods at me when I turn around. He crosses his arms over his chest, watching. My brothers are here for support, but they won’t step in. They know I need this.

For me.

For Reagan.

I walk over to Lincoln and shove the pliers under his chin to force him to look up at me. “You should have stayed in Glendale.”

He scoffs. “She doesn’t love you.”

I pull my arm back and slam the handle of the pliers into the side of Lincoln’s face. Blood gushes from the wound, and when he spits, there’s a chunk of tooth in it.

“You don’t get to talk about her.” I shove his chin up again, blood dripping from his mouth. “Understood?”

His jaw tenses, but he doesn’t say anything, so at least he’s learning.

“How long were you at the school this morning?” I get right into my interrogation because I can barely look at this piece of shit.

Lincoln keeps his mouth shut, and I’d be irritated if I wasn’t so thankful for the excuse to let the gasket off this rage.

Reaching for his hand, I pin it to the arm of the chair, and his eyes widen. He tries to thrash, but the bindings hold him in place as I shove the pliers under his nail and rip it off.

The scream that tears from his lungs fills the room while Ghost chuckles.

Not much can get my brother to smile, but torturing a deserving man will do it.

“Want to try that answer again?” I ask, digging the pliers under another nail. “How long were you at the school this morning?”

Lincoln thrashes in the chair, crying and screaming so loud he drools. “I—Early. I don’t know. Five.”

“Good.” I rip the nail off anyway, and his screaming turns to sobs.

It’s pathetic really.

“Stop.” He chokes. “Please.”

“You want me to stop?” I grab his throat, forcing him to face me. “Just like Reagan wanted you to stop. But you didn’t, did you?”

“She—”

I knock him in the side of the face before he can finish his sentence. “What did I say? You don’t get to talk about her.”

Only I do.

“Did you stop when she told you not to call her? Did you stop when she asked you to stop fucking with her? Stalking her. Firing her.” Saying it out loud has me seeing red, so I rip off another nail.

Lincoln heaves forward, and I barely have time to step out of the way of the vomit as he covers the front of his pants.

I shove the pliers under his chin again, forcing him to face me. “Did you?”

“No.” The word chokes out through spit and vomit and tears and blood.

“No, you didn’t.” I slam the pliers into the side of his jaw so hard the crack gives me goose bumps.

At least now we’re getting somewhere.

I force his face up again. “When you got to the school this morning, did you see anything out of place? A van?”

His hazy eyes blink open. “No.”

---