Page 39 of Brutal Reign
But when I walked away from her, I gave her a clean break from this world and the violence that follows in my wake. I thought I’d freed her from organized crime forever, but maybe she chose to walk back into it, or maybe circumstances gave her no other option.
The idea that she has anything to do with Sofiya’s abduction feels like swallowing broken glass. It means that everything I believed about her wanting a normal life was a lie.
Guilt burns through me, sharper than any wound. I have to find out the truth, no matter where it leads.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” I select a pair of bolt cutters from our arsenal and hold them up where he can see. “You’re going to tell us everything you know about the Black Company. And if you don’t, you’ll leave here with fewer body parts than you came in with.”
The soldier’s eyes lock onto the cutters, and for the first time since we started this dance, real fear cracks through his defiance. The man gasps, sweat beading on his forehead despite the chill in the air.
“Start talking,” Roman says, pointing at the bolt cutters in my hand. “If you like your dick intact.”
Our prisoner goes pale. Good. Fear is the best truth serum, but he’s still taking too long.
I nod to Roman, and he pins the man’s arms. Truth be told, people pass out if you go for the dick first, and it’s a bloody mess. A finger is a much better starting point. Painful, but it keeps them conscious.
“Wait, wait, please—” the man begs.
Before he can finish, Roman slams his hand flat on the table. I place the bolt cutters over his index finger and squeeze. The tip drops to the floor in a spray of blood.
“Too late,” I say, grabbing a fistful of his hair and wrenching his head back. “Start talking.”
His chest heaves, his wide eyes locked on the bloody stump where his finger used to be.
“I only have a first name, that’s all. Simon,” he rasps. “Never met the guy, never seen him. I overheard a few conversations.”
Roman and I exchange a look. There’s only one Simon he could mean—Simon fucking Lau, Lai King’s former right hand. A man we thought died with everyone else in that Swiss villa.
Roman balls his hand into a fist, eyes blazing. “Where is he?”
“I really don’t fucking know. I told you I’m not in the inner circle. I was brought in to?—”
Roman brings his boot down on the man’s knee with a sick crack. The scream that follows echoes off the walls like music.
“Yeah, we know. You were brought in to help abduct my sister-in-law, Sofiya. I should string you up by the balls for how upset you made my wife.”
“Or do one better,” I suggest. “Cut off his balls.” I hold up the bolt cutters in emphasis.
Roman shrugs and reaches for them, making a big show of it in front of our prisoner.
When he starts begging and pleading for mercy before we even lower his pants, I’ve had enough. I take off the tip of his ring finger. A raw howl tears from his throat, echoing against the walls.
“Tell us what you know so we can end this already,” I hiss. “I have better things to do.”
Like figuring out if Hope is involved in any of this shit.
He struggles for breath, words coming out in gasps as he stares at his gushing hand. “Simon... Simon’s getting married to some triad princess in a few days.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end.
I grab him roughly by the collar. “What do you mean, triad princess? I need a fucking name.”
He coughs, voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know her name... She’s the daughter of some dead boss. King, I think. They’re planning a big ceremony in Hong Kong, with every triad boss from Asia to Europe attending. That’s everything I know. I swear on my mother’s grave.”
The world tilts off its axis.
Hope King is getting married, and I don’t like that thought one bit.
Nikolai’s office feels smaller with this much testosterone and tension crammed into it. Roman’s brother-in-law sits behind his desk, his short hair still damp from washing up after he took over questioning his former soldier. Beside him are his two right hands, Vadim Lazarev and Eva Sidorov, his head of security and his intelligence chief, respectively.
