Page 94
Story: Mortify
"Says the man literally poisoning people," Tor points out.
"Targeting the weak. The ones who choose drugs over contributing to society." His eyes find mine. "Your girlfriend's ex understands. He's been very helpful."
"What else has Dylan told you?" I grab his throat. "What else does he know?"
"Everything," the Patriot wheezes. "Every secret. Every weakness. Every pressure point. Did you know your girl's pregnant? Shame if something happened?—"
My fist breaks his jaw mid-sentence.
"Enough talk," Runes says. "We need information. Real information. Dag?"
Dag steps forward with his toolkit.
Pliers. Blades. Things that hurt without killing too quickly.
"Networks," Runes says calmly. "Suppliers. Distribution chains. Names."
We have some information on the paperwork we found, but there has to be more, and what helps us will, in turn, help out the Mackenzie family.
The Patriot spits blood and teeth. "Fuck you."
"Wrong answer."
What follows isn't pretty.
Isn't clean.
But it's what we’ve needed to do for a long time.
Dag starts with fingers, joint by joint.
The Patriot screams but doesn't break.
Just keeps ranting about racial purity and America's destiny between shrieks.
He moves on to more creative methods.
Still nothing but curses and threats about what will happen when his men avenge him.
"Tough old bastard," Dag admits after twenty minutes, hands slick with blood.
"Let me," Rio says quietly.
We all turn. Rio hasn't spoken much since Flora died, just existed in his grief.
But now his eyes burn with purpose.
"My wife," he says to the Patriot. "Flora. You remember her?"
"The spic whore at the birthday party?" The Patriot grins through bloody gums. "Yeah, I remember. Shame we only got her. Was hoping for at least one of the kids, too."
Rio goes very still.
Too still.
Then he pulls out a photo—a heavily pregnant Flora holding baby Florencia, who's laughing.
"This was taken a week before you killed her," he says conversationally. "When you gave the order, did you know you were killing a pregnant woman?"
"Targeting the weak. The ones who choose drugs over contributing to society." His eyes find mine. "Your girlfriend's ex understands. He's been very helpful."
"What else has Dylan told you?" I grab his throat. "What else does he know?"
"Everything," the Patriot wheezes. "Every secret. Every weakness. Every pressure point. Did you know your girl's pregnant? Shame if something happened?—"
My fist breaks his jaw mid-sentence.
"Enough talk," Runes says. "We need information. Real information. Dag?"
Dag steps forward with his toolkit.
Pliers. Blades. Things that hurt without killing too quickly.
"Networks," Runes says calmly. "Suppliers. Distribution chains. Names."
We have some information on the paperwork we found, but there has to be more, and what helps us will, in turn, help out the Mackenzie family.
The Patriot spits blood and teeth. "Fuck you."
"Wrong answer."
What follows isn't pretty.
Isn't clean.
But it's what we’ve needed to do for a long time.
Dag starts with fingers, joint by joint.
The Patriot screams but doesn't break.
Just keeps ranting about racial purity and America's destiny between shrieks.
He moves on to more creative methods.
Still nothing but curses and threats about what will happen when his men avenge him.
"Tough old bastard," Dag admits after twenty minutes, hands slick with blood.
"Let me," Rio says quietly.
We all turn. Rio hasn't spoken much since Flora died, just existed in his grief.
But now his eyes burn with purpose.
"My wife," he says to the Patriot. "Flora. You remember her?"
"The spic whore at the birthday party?" The Patriot grins through bloody gums. "Yeah, I remember. Shame we only got her. Was hoping for at least one of the kids, too."
Rio goes very still.
Too still.
Then he pulls out a photo—a heavily pregnant Flora holding baby Florencia, who's laughing.
"This was taken a week before you killed her," he says conversationally. "When you gave the order, did you know you were killing a pregnant woman?"
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