Page 87 of Corrupted Queen

I pull myself together as I make my way to the cellar, locking my bones and muscles into a prison of steely resolve. I push out all the weakness, all the pain, all that residual longing for a woman who I will never touch again.

I take slow steps down the creaky cellar stairs. Mirko, Dom, and Silvano are waiting for me at the bottom. Miguel is tied to the metal chair in the center of the room, his long brown hair messy around his cheeks. He glowers at me as I come to stand in front of him.

“I will kill you for this,” Miguel growls.

His cheek is bruised and his bottom lip is split. His face is covered in a sheen of sweat, though it is chilly and damp down here. He is not smiling.

“I sincerely doubt that,” I reply.

Dom hands over a knife without me even having to ask. We have already lost two days while I was held back by spools of red tape, and the Cartel is closing in fast. Their plan was to get me out of the way so they could take the city for themselves, which means their forces are already converging. There is no time to waste.

“I need answers from you, Miguel,” I say, tipping the blade of the knife back and forth so it catches the light. “If I don’t give me those answers, I’m going to cut them out of you.”

He spits at my feet, his saliva red with blood. “You can kill me, but it won’t change your fate. You’re a dead man.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that?” I ask, sticking the point of the knife against his cheek. “Would you prefer a horizontal or vertical slash?”

“Diagonal,” Dom suggests. “Make it cross the other one.”

“Good idea, Dom.” I press a little harder and blood blooms from the tip of the blade.

Miguel grits his teeth, and I hope he is regretting every time he disrespected me, every smug word he ever said, every fucking smirk. I press a little deeper and he groans with pain.

“Now that its purple heroin plans have been disrupted, what are the Cartel’s plans for the city?” I ask calmly.

Miguel’s eyes widen as I inch the blade down, just a tad, just enough to give him a taste of my ruthlessness.

“They’re teaming up with the Irish!” he yells.

I always knew he was a coward under his expensive cologne and silk ties. I pull the blade away and a trickle of blood drips down from his chin.

The Irish have been quiet recently. I thought they had all but disbanded with no Walshes to lead them, so this information intrigues me.

“Who’s leading the Irish?” I ask.

Miguel takes a deep breath, and I can see him weighing his options. He knows he is going to die either way, but he’s familiar with the kind of pain I’m threatening and he doesn’t want to repeat it. His shoulders slump a little—decision made.

“Kevin Lynch,” he says.

“Who the fuck is Kevin Lynch?” Mirko asks from behind me.

“Patrick’s uncle-in-law,” I say, passing the blade between my hands. “A bit of an obscure link, but a link nonetheless I suppose.”

“They’re going to take the city,” Miguel tells me. “What Andrew Walsh did will be nothing compared to the kind of hell you are about to face. They will destroy you.”

He spits the words with conviction, as if he has seen the future with his own eyes.

“Then lucky we have you here to tell us their strategy,” I remark, gesturing for him to continue.

Miguel’s lips close, and he shakes his head. “That’s all I know. My job was only ever keeping an eye on you and reporting back. I wasn’t privy to that kind of information.”

“Are you sure?” I press the blade in again, and Miguel screams.

“That’s all I know!”

I move the blade, just a little.

“Please!” he begs. “All I was told was to wait for instructions! That’s all I’ve been doing.”

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