Page 18 of Madness & Mercy
“You think I want something from you?”
“I know you do. Nobody follows a man like me without wanting something, whether it’s money, power, protection, revenge…I know you’re not here just to play detective.”
He stays quiet.
I set the glass down, loud enough to punctuate the moment.
“I’m still trying to decide if you’re really that stupid… or just desperate.”
Another pause.
Then Julian leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes burning into mine.
“Maybe I’m both,” he says. “But if I am, so are you. Because you haven’t killed me yet.”
I smile.
There it is.
The edge.
The thing in him that bites back.
“You’re right,” I say softly. “I haven’t. Yet.”
Then I stand. The chair scrapes back across the stone. Julian’s head tilts slightly, as if expecting this to be the part where I pull a gun or have him dragged away.
Instead, I straighten my jacket.
“Come,” I say. “There’s something I want to show you.”
He hesitates.
“I thought I wasn’t allowed out of your sight.”
I smirk. “You’re not.”
Then I walk off, knowing damn well he’ll follow. Not because he trusts me, but because curiosity is the hook that’s already caught in his throat.
He follows me back inside and down the steps to the basement. The steel door groans as I push it open, cold air curling out like a warning.
He steps inside, his boots echoing against concrete. His eyes scan the room with a kind of calculated detachment that both irritates and intrigues me. I watch him take it in: thebloodstained drain in the floor, the leather restraints bolted to the wall, the surgical tools laid out like a pianist’s keys.
There’s no attempt at subtlety down here. This room doesn’t pretend.
It only promises.
I lean against the doorway, arms crossed, voice low.
“This is where you’ll end up if you fuck me over.”
“Nice setup,” he says, strolling farther in, eyes flicking from the meat hooks to the voltage cables. “You give house tours often?”
I step in behind him, letting the door shut with a definitive click. It locks automatically. He hears it, even if he doesn’t show it.
“Ever wonder how many men I’ve killed in these walls?” I ask.
Julian turns, his gaze steady. “You want me to guess?”
