Page 4 of The Torturer's Target

“My payment?” She pulled her throwing knives from her leather boots, completely ignoring the way the two men stepped away from her. Flipping them around expertly before slipping them right back where they came out from.

“Already paid in full. Please check,” Oliver said instantly.

They waited nervously like reprimanded children while she confirmed the transaction. It was the longest two minutes of their lives, and when she gave a curt nod, they released audible breaths of relief.

She turned to leave when Vicker’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm. “Please, wait…”

Pausing, she swiveled her head and scowled at his hand. Vicker let her go immediately, clearing his throat. “I was...um...hoping we could...um, you know, get dinner sometime. What do you say?”

“No.”

“Oh, alright. Um…” He cleared his throat again. “Okay, then.”

But the woman didn’t leave immediately. Instead, she walked back to him, until she was invading the trafficker’s space. “The next time your hands, or any other appendage of yours touches my body, I’ll cut it off.”

The frosty tone sent a chill down Vicker’s spine. He hated that he cowered for a mere woman. A boss like him should be respected, by everyone. His ego was in tatters. Especially since it was happening in front of Oliver and two security guards.

He wanted to say something to save face, but Oliver rushed forward, stepping in front of him. “Please forgive my boss, Torturer. He is still distraught about the news he got. He’s not thinking straight. Is there anything else we can assist you with—”

She was already out the door, leaving it to slam shut behind her.

Tesiera Anderson was in the grip of a nightmare, her face twisted in a grimace as she thrashed about on her bed, mumbling incoherent sounds.

The dream always started the same way, with memories of the happy times she shared with her father–the joy, laughter, and thrill of their father-daughter bond. She could hear her father’s genuine, hearty laugh—a laugh that seemed to stem from deep within him—and she would smile. He was always in good spirits and his happiness was contagious.

But as the dream progressed, that laugh would slowly transform into pained screams, the sounds he made as he was murdered.

Tesiera relived the last moments of her father’s life—the instant the doctor closed his eyes and covered him with a sheet—and with that moment, she felt like she lost her own humanity. All the pain, sadness, and agony would come flooding back and she would scream, until everything faded away.

She woke up with a jolt, tears streaming down her face and her breathing heavy. The wound opened again, just like it did every night. Her finger rose to her cheek, and she collected a tear, scowling at the liquid.

Her chest hurt. It hurt badly.

She reached under her pillow, withdrew her pocket dagger, pressed it to her thigh, and cut a clean line atop one of the thin scars from similar cuts she’d made in the past.

A calmness settled over her heart as she watched the blood spill out of the wound and drip down her thigh. The physical pain was almost delicious because it numbed the emotional pain that came from her nightmares. Physical pain she could deal with; emotional pain...not so much.

With a sigh, she left her bed and went to the window, staring out onto the rain-soaked streets. The stars had vanished from the sky and the moon shone exceptionally bright in the clearing sky.

As she looked out into the night, she remembered the girl she once was—the girl who screamed in terror—and she felt disgust and anger. Screaming was a sign of weakness, and she hated being trapped in her nightmare doing just that. For twenty years, she channeled her pain into strength until she was almost unbeatable. The Torturer, as most people in the underworld called her.

For ten years she had searched for her father’s killers. It was hard since she only had their faces in her memory as the only lead on those four people, but when she wasn’t torturing people, she dedicated her entire life to finding those murderers. Five years ago, she finally made a breakthrough and found their leader, Jaden Newman.

He was a boss in the criminal underworld, and most of his wealth came from human trafficking—selling women. Her eyes closed as she remembered Miselle.

Miselle had been her only friend for ten years and the only person who knew everything about Tesiera. Miselle was helping her gather information about her father’s killers; she was the one who got the only information they had on Jaden Newman. But when Miselle had begun to dig deeper, her body washed ashore in the Bahamas.

Tesiera was almost sure that Jaden Newman was the one who killed her only friend, just like he’d killed her father. Well, he ordered her father’s murder, and the teenager pulled the trigger. Without hesitation or thought.

She’d never forget that part. Or the look of utter enjoyment on the kid’s face as he pulled the trigger.

They will pay. Every last one of them.

Just as she was about to head to her in-home gym downstairs, her cellphone rang. The caller ID showed “Big Cat”.

CHAPTER 2. THE TEENAGER.

Tesiera walked into Big Cat's mansion. He was a very dangerous and powerful mafia lord. She had been there countless times, and the interior, which was luxuriously decorated with gold, didn’t faze her anymore. The mansion was heavily guarded, with security so vast that it was even complicated for someone like her to understand.

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