Page 86 of The Bonventi Secret

My hand shoots out, gripping his jaw tightly. "Don't lie to me," I snarl. "You were driving the car. Where did they take her?"

Our guest whimpers, tears welling in his eyes. "Please, I swear to God. I don't know. They just told me where to meet and to drive that car north!"

"Gio," I say, not taking my eyes off the man, "bring me the pliers. I'll start with his pinky."

"Last chance," I growl, positioning the pliers around his pinky finger. "Where. Is. She?"

The metal is cold against my palm, and I can feel his pulse racing through the tool.

His entire body trembles. Sweat and blood drip onto his expensive shirt, creating dark stains against the fabric.

The man sobs, snot and tears streaming down his face. "Please, I swear to God, I don't know!"

I begin to squeeze, feeling the initial resistance of skin and flesh. A high-pitched scream tears from his throat, echoing off the white walls. The sound feeds my rage, my need to hurt something, to make someone pay for taking her.

"Zo!" Gio's voice cuts through the screaming. "Wait!"

I pause, the pressure still constant on the pliers, drawing a whimper from our guest. I turn, annoyed at the interruption. "What?"

"They just sent this," Gio says and holds up his phone, and my world stops.

It's Livia.

Her hands are tied, and her face is bruised. A trickle of blood runs from her split lip. Her once-vibrant eyes are dull and unfocused, likely from whatever drugs they used to subdue her.

The pliers crash onto the floor. My hands shake as I snatch the phone from Gio, studying every detail. The basement walls behind her, the rusty pipes overhead, anything to make out where she might be.

I turn and grab our guest by the throat, squeezing until his eyes bulge. "That basement. You recognize it?" I ask, jamming the phone into his face. "And don't fucking lie to me. Look at it."

He stares at the phone screen, his face draining of color. "I... I think. FUCK," he yells, "If I talk, I'm dead. They'll kill me."

"And what do you think will happen to you if you don't tell me?"

I don't wait for a response. The image of Livia flashes in my thoughts, and I see red.

I grab a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back. "Tell me where she fucking is now," I scream.

"It…it might be the old abandoned Midwest Steel complex. Building C by the lake. They've got a basement set up there for, for questioning people. Looks like that."

"Who gave you orders? The person who took her? What's his name?"

"Oh, come on, I can't—" His words cut off in a scream as I drive my fist into his abdomen.

"Names!" I roar.

"V-Vincent," he gasps. "Vincent Rossi. He was in charge of the operation."

I release him, stepping back. "Vincent Rossi," I repeat, the name tasting like ash in my mouth. "Gio, what do we know about him?"

Gio's already tapping away on his tablet. "Vincent Rossi, 35. Oh shit, it's Joseph Rossi's nephew. Known for his sadistic tendencies. He's been pushing for more aggressive action against us for months."

"And this warehouse, do we know where it is?"

"Yes," Gio says.

"Okay, good," I say and look down at our guest. "You have a family?"

The man nods. "Wife."