Page 20 of No Mistakes
I followthe cold concrete wall down to the bottom of the basement, each step pulling me closer to the deafening sound of a drill and the raw screams of a man's breaking point.
I round the corner slowly to spot Carter leaning silently against the wall, staring from a distance. His arms crossed, and his expression unreadable as he lets Gunnar take control.
When it comes to initiation, the rules are simple.
No interference. No guidance.
If you want to wear the brand of our family, you have to prove you can do all the dirty work, start to finish.
If you can’t do this… There is only one way it ends.
Death.
The stench of fresh blood hits me like a punch to the gut, and I shake my head, pulling myself together, trying to ignore the smell of copper, sweat and fear as it clings to the air, invading my lungs. It’s not the first time I’ve been in a room full of fresh blood, and I can’t imagine this being the last.
I take a place beside Carter, keeping my distance but close enough to see the details. Gunnar doesn’t glance our way, keeping his focus on everything in front of him.
He hunches over the man strapped to the chair. His sleeves are rolled up, drill in one hand, with blood splattered across the side of his jaw like war paint. His knuckles are raw and swollen, no doubt from his fist slamming into the guy’s face over and over again.
I walk around the room quietly, observing the man who is barely conscious as he slumps forward with his mouth hanging open, panting through blood and broken teeth.
Gunnar grabs his face, jerking it up. “You work for Marco, tell us what operations he was running.” He demands.
I give Carter a quick glance, nodding my head in approval.
The man gurgles something incoherent, and Gunnar responds by pressing the drill against his hand, forcing a screw through when he pulls the trigger.
Screams erupt around us as the echo bounces off the walls while it mixes with the sweet,sweet sound of bones shattering against the steel as it tries to resist.
I sense Carter grimace from the other side of the room while Gunnar’s face doesn’t flinch. Instead, he pushes the drill harder while staying calm. There’s no panic in him, no hesitation.
The drill goes silent, making the shallow sobs of the man sitting in the chair the only sound in the room. I watch as Gunnar takes a step back, moving towards the tray beside him, and I shift around the back of the chair for a better view, watching closely for what he will do next.
Gunnar examines the metal tray that is laid out in front of him with a neat row of tools, each one waiting to see if it will be chosen next.
He takes his time as his fingers brush against each item before settling on a single needle, twirling it slowly between his fingers as if he’s testing its weight.
His eyes flick to mine, waiting for approval, but I don’t react. Instead, I turn around and walk back towards Carter, who isstill leaning against the wall as if he’s watching a movie play out in front of him. The only thing this man needs now is a box of popcorn to complete the image.
“I wonder if he will break,” Carter whispers.
I look towards Gunnar, who is now standing in front of the man, taunting him with the needle.
“Not him, you idiot. Marco’s guy. He hasn’t said a fucking word about anything. The only thing he’s done is scream and call us every name under the sun.”
My brows furrow at Carter’s words. It’s rare for someone to stay silent this long. Usually, the moment they see the tools laid out, they break down, blubbering like a baby and spilling everything they know and then some, which is a bonus.
If we’re going to get any real intel about what’s happening in Chicago, it has to be now.
When we all agreed on faking Axel’s death, it wasn’t a decision we made lightly. We knew what it would do to the people we care about, to the one personhecares about, but it had to be done.
Once we heard there was a new operation starting up where we used to live, one involving the trafficking of women… We knew what had to be done to lure out the rats. The moment the news of Axel’s death reached the city, everyone came out to play, thinking the most powerful family had fallen apart.
I look around the room, trying to find something we can use as leverage to get the man to speak.
Everyonehas a weakness; we just need to find it.
I cough loudly, gaining Gunnar’s attention just as he sticks the needle under the nail. The room erupts into a scream as the man thrashes about in the chair, trying to break free. I throw my head back slightly, indicating for him to come over while I write a message on my phone.
