Page 86 of Grim

“Please,” they shouted.

The men that once stood tall and imposing, armed with guns and knives, now cowered before us. The bars let us see inside the small cages where they were kept.

They smelled of piss and vomit, their blood the only blanket they could pull over themselves on the hard concrete floor.

Their skin hung in chunks of meat from their bodies. They were worse for wear, and to be honest, I was surprised a human could live this long after the hell we’d put them through.

“Some witches halted their death,” Locke mentioned. “Stopped the bleeding, kept the infection out. We just gave them enough food and water to survive. They won’t last much longer, though.”

“Please, give me death!” One male reached through the bars. “Please, I can’t take it any longer.” His nails scratched over the stained floor.

Sizzle chuckled, kicking his iron-toed shoes into the cage. It rattled enough for my wolf’s fur to bristle, and I shook my head, readying my station.

It was time to get some answers and hopefully be done with this by morning.

“Let’s go to the source,” Locke said as he opened the cage that held the mayor.

The mayor’s clothes were tattered and tainted with his blood and his own feces. He tripped over himself, falling into a pool of unknown liquid that laid in front of the cage.

Sizzle laughed maniacally with Locke while they watched the old piece of shit try to stand.

“I don’t even want to touch him. Hey, Beretta? Want to help the old man up?” Locke jeered.

Beretta stood in the corner, her yellow reflective eyes twinkling in the light of the single light bulb. She tsked, waving her hand for him to fuck off.

“If you let me pop one in the dick, maybe I’ll pull him up by his collar.” She glanced at the back of her hand and took one long swipe at the back of it. “But I just had a bath. Maybe I shouldn’t even bother.”

Switch grabbed the mayor’s arm, pulling him across the floor. I went to grab my tools by the bench, but realized I didn’t even need them anymore. I had my claws, my strength.

Taking off my cut, I took a deep breath. The rattling of chains around the mayor’s body sent a chill down my spine.

The executioner was here.

“Listen, Grim.” Locke grabbed my shoulder. “He’s said some things about Journey. He’s trying to trigger us, so we’ll lose control and kill him quickly. You can’t do that until we have all our information. Do you understand?”

I ticked my head, my jaw tightening. “What has he said?” I asked calmly.

“Just how he took her. I can’t repeat that shit. Just know that Journey doesn’t remember it. That she isn’t bothered by it anymore.”

I grabbed Locke by his cut and pulled him to my face. “Just because she doesn’t remember, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. Just because you lost your mate doesn’t mean you are over it. He will pay dearly, and he will suffer.”

Locke raised his hands, and I pushed him away. It was stronger than intended, and he fell to the floor. No one approached me, telling me not to treat our president in such a manner. I was the leader of this interrogation. The basement had been my solace for many years.

Now, I only found my peace with Journey.

Locke returned to his feet, pulling on his cut to straighten it. His hands went to his pocket, fiddling with one of the many lighters inside.

“Let’s get this shit started, then.” Locke’s demeanor changed. Long gone was my friend, and now the sadistic fuck approached.

“Alright, May-or,” he droned. “Tell us where you’ve been getting the fae dust? We saw you with two she-wolves, handing them cash.”

The mayor spit in Locke’s direction, but he was far faster than what the Mayor could dish out. “I ain’t tellin’ you shit. If I tell you, he will find my soul and kill me over and over. I’d rather take it to my grave.”

“And you don’t think Hades himself won’t torture you?” Sizzle drawled.

“Gods aren’t real,” the mayor muttered.

“They most certainly are,” Locke said. He lowered his face next to the mayor’s. “Because they know how to inflict pain and make it last a real long time.”

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