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“So, you’ll give me your head?” Ronan says, inspecting the torture tool.
The man whimpers and a leaking sound drips to the floor. He’s peeing his pants. You would think a man like him wouldn’t break so easily. I crack a sinister smile, spinning the butcher knife. This is more fun than I thought.
Ronan narrows in on the large wet stain on his pants and the pee on the floor. “Perfect. Now they have to clean up blood andpiss. What the fuck, Fred?” He stalks over to him and slams a brick right on his knee.
I wince in shock, but my eyes spark with delight. Fred screams out in agony. He attempts to grasp the abrasion, but Ronan wrenches forward, bending his wrist back. “Touch it and this brick will become part of your jaw.”
Fred wails even more, but doesn’t touch his flesh.
Ronan steps back, coming up beside me. “Are you done pissing on my floor?”
He cries out nodding, he is absolutely humiliated. The bad man that kidnaps people for ransom and sells other kids to human trafficking is here weeping like a bitch. It’s the best thing I’ve seen all year.
I smirk even more, twisting my head up to Ronan, who meets my gaze. Some life comes back to his eyes, a faint curl to his lips. “He’s ready for you.”
I fold in my lips, and straighten my spine. Breaking the connection, I stroll up closer to Fred. The butcher’s knife is still rotating around my wrist. “Do you know who we are?” I ask.
He shakes and seethes, the spit flying through his crooked teeth.
“Think hard. You can do it,” I coo like a mother to her child. I tilt my head, grinning softly.
Fred looks at me, then at Ronan behind me. Then back again. Until he lands on the towering figure behind me. The color that is left on his face drains drastically and he swallows.
“You’re Poison.” The man’s gaze is only on Ronan. His eyes are wide and lip quivering. Fear is imminent in him, like he’s looking at the bogey man himself. I look over my shoulder at Ronan. Then again, he does.
“Guess again, fucker.” Ronan steps to the side of me.
He looks one more time, his face looking over Ronan like he’s on a discovery cycle. Until his face stiffens.
“Ronan.” He heaves. “H-how you fled the country.”
“Ah, ah, ah. Wrong,” he says.
“Tell us what we need to know, and we’ll go easy on you.” I step in, gliding my finger over the shape edge of the knife. Lies, of course. “It’s going to be a long night, so you better answer truthfully, or you’ll reap worse consequences,” I say, scraping my boot on the dusty ground.
“The targets on the wall. What are you planning?” Ronan asks, tossing the brick up and down.
Fred spits to the side. “What do you think?” he croaks.
“Straight answers, don’t fucking riddle us.” Ronan presses his boot on the wound on his knee.
He hollers, his eyes spreading like wings. “Okay, okay. Please,” he begs, urging Ronan to stop by pressing his hand down on the large boot.
Ronan smirks, lowering the boot. “Go.”
He sucks in a heavy breath, groaning. “They’re just future sets. We’ve marked them down once we know for sure, we’ll grab them for a possible shipment.”
Biles rolls in my belly. “These aren’t ransom packages, are they?” I glance at Ronan, then at the filth. “You were going to traffic them.” Saying it makes me want to hurl and vomit all over him.
“Potential. W-we didn’t make the arrangements yet.” He swallows loud, sweat dripping over the surface of his lip.
“Did you send off any details to anyone else?” Ronan asks, no longer playing fetch with the brick.
He shakes his head weakly. “Victor wanted the names for next week.”
I notice Ronan’s body tense at the nameVictor.He must be the leader.
He circles his arm over his chest with the brick dangling to the side; his fingers run against his beard and the slice on his cheek. “Why the names?” Ronan asks, chewing down on his jaw.