Page 99 of Taming Seraphine

His features fall slack. “Who?”

“Evangeline’s son,” I snap, my pulse pounding, my patience fraying into thin threads. “My brother. The man being used as a liver donor.”

Julio’s chest rises and falls like a set of bellows. “I swear to god, Frederic didn’t tell me. I thought he got that liver on the black market?—”

“Liar.” I deliver another slap, this one hurting my hand even worse than the second.

Leroi clears his throat again, and it’s a reminder that I don’t need to use my hands. Not when I have two sets of weapons.

Turning on my heel, I walk to the table. Leroi steps aside, giving me the space to peruse the implements of torture.

If Julio can’t lead me to Gabriel or even Samson, then I’ll force him to tell me who might have that information. After that, I’ll slay the first of my demons.

THIRTY-SEVEN

LEROI

I lean against the wall of the truck with my arms folded across my chest. The space behind the apartment block is deserted six days out of seven, and the vehicle we’re in is completely sound-proofed. Seraphine can torture this man to her heart’s content without the risk of being disturbed.

The first instrument she snatches off the table is a paring knife, one of the few Anton recommends for precision work. Julio Catania stares with wide-eyed horror as she runs the flat of the blade up and down his flushed cheeks. He’s sweating and shaking under her scrutiny.

“You’re going to tell me what you know about my brother, or I’ll slice off your iris.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and sobs. “That night Frederic punished Evangeline, he sent out two pairs of guards to fetch the son and daughter?—”

“Which guards?” she asks.

“It was five years ago,” he yells. “I don’t remember.”

“Try.”

She presses the tip of its blade into his eye socket, drawing out a bead of blood. As it runs down his cheek, my mind sinks back to the time she pinned me to the mattress and held me at knifepoint.

My cock stirs at the memory, and I groan. I’m not a masochist or in any way submissive, but I can’t help but marvel at the thought of her taking what she wants from me at knifepoint.

I close my eyes, pushing aside the thought of what else she might have taken that morning, and focus on the moment. The consequences will be dire for both of us if we don’t find Gabriel and Samson Capello.

Catania screams, and my eyes snap open. She’s carved a line from the corner of his lip to his cheekbone in a sick parody of a smile.

“You held her down and laughed as you choked out her life,” she says, her voice raw. “You all laughed.”

My breath quickens, as does my pulse. There’s nothing I despise more than a man who overpowers a woman and disregards her humanity.

Catania jerks his head away. “The guards he sent after the son were Ferrante and Rochas. The pair who were supposed to get the daughter came back ten minutes later to say she was gone.”

Seraphine’s gaze darts to mine, and I nod. Mike Ferrante and Paolo Rochas are already on the list of people we need to see, but I’ll bump them up to the top.

“What do you know about Samson?” she asks.

“He’s dead, along with the others.”

“I saw him yesterday.” She walks behind him and grabs his neck in a choke hold.

Catania shakes his head from side to side. “You’re wrong. When I got to the house the day after the shooting, there were twelve body bags. One of them was labeled Samson Capello.”

“Then someone lied.” She positions the knife at the other corner of his mouth and slices upward, completing the grotesque grin.

With blood streaming from the base of his eye socket like tears and both sides of his mouth smeared with blood, Catania looks like a broken clown.

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