Page 26 of The King of Hearts (The Raven Group #1)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

HIM

I nserting the old iron key into the slot, I twist it three times, and the bolt inside gives a little snick.

After I put the key back inside my pocket, I grab the handle and turn it.

The old metal door creaks and groans when I push it open.

With no windows and when the door is shut, the room is pitch black.

It works in favor of the things that happen here.

It’s the simple things in life that make torture all the more fun.

There’s not a sound in the room, except for a steady drip, drip, drip, from one of the old, rusted water pipes, and the barely discernible breathing coming from across the way. It smells like piss, blood, and the unmistakable stench of old fish.

I step inside and the source of piss and blood comes into view.

Shane Ballot.

The man who was going to kidnap and sell Savina to the highest bidder.

He isn’t supposed to still be breathing. I had him in my sights two days ago and was seconds away from knocking his ass out and bringing him here, but Bishop fucking Rivers showed up, and I had to fade into the shadows.

Alexander has had people on his trail for over a week.

Shane’s done a good job keeping himself hidden, which is surprising because he’s never been too bright.

Then he got a hankering for pussy and decided to wander out from the hole he was hiding in and went to one of the clubs on the mainland.

One of my men spotted him and contacted me.

He was fucking stupid to stay in the area.

He should have known Alexander and his two sons would eventually find him.

Not that it doesn’t work in my favor. This situation is actually perfect, because unknown to Alexander and his crew, Shane was hand-delivered to the exact location where I bring my own victims. Not this particular room, but close enough.

I flip the switch on the wall, and a bright-yellow light filters through the room. Immediate groans fill the space, and chains rattle seconds later.

Shane jerks against his metal bindings, which is a feat for sure, since he’s only balancing himself on the tips of his toes, and one of his ankles has been smashed with a sledgehammer.

With the way he’s hanging there, one of his shoulders is out of its socket.

I have to give Alexander credit. The man looks like he’s been through a meat grinder and then run over by a Mack truck.

Savina’s father worked him over good, but not nearly deserving enough.

His hair, which was once supposed to be shaggy long, and I suppose attractive to females, hangs in an oily, sweaty mess around his face.

He’s been stripped down to just a pair of light blue boxers, the front of which is now discolored with urine.

His medium-build chest is streaked with blood and other bodily fluids, some from the twisted mess of his broken nose.

There’s a deep cut above one of his eyes, causing it to swell so much that it’s almost sealed shut.

A gash starts in the corner of his mouth and extends halfway across his cheek.

It looks like someone took a blade to it.

One of his ears is blown to twice its size and is only hanging on by a thread of skin.

Besides the blood covering his torso, there are multiple deep slash marks that seep even more blood, and there’s even a strip of skin missing from his lower stomach. More skin is missing on his thighs.

I hacked into the camera that’s installed in this room last night and watched Alexander and his two sons torture the bastard.

It was an interesting show and proved just how much you don’t want to fuck with anyone Alexander cares about.

Ordinarily, Alexander is a fair and decent man, but not when it comes to his family.

All bets are off and the savage comes out to play.

As much as I wanted the luxury of torturing Shane, I allowed Alexander his time with him.

I could have stolen him out from under his nose, but every father deserves retribution against anyone who intends to harm their child.

I permitted it because I knew Alexander wouldn’t kill Shane yet.

He’d keep him on ice for a while until he gets what he wants.

My generosity only goes so far, though. I’ll be taking that honor for myself.

Alexander will be pissed, but that’s his problem, not mine.

Besides, this asshole isn’t going to give Alexander the answers he seeks because he doesn’t have them.

The person who hired Shane to take Savina, the same fucking person who’s sending me those photos, stayed anonymous.

You can’t torture a person for information they don’t have.

Or rather, you can, but at the end of the day, you’ll leave empty-handed.

“Wha… w-who are you?” Shane sputters out between coughs of blood.

He knows exactly who I am, but with my mask in place and a hoodie pulled up to cover my hair, my identity is hidden from him.

And from the camera still rolling in the ceiling.

I could have easily spliced the video feed to show a loop of the room staying dark, but I want Alexander to see this.

I want him to know it was me who took out the bastard who thought he could touch my woman.

Savina is more mine than she’ll ever be Alexander’s.

“You look fucking pathetic, Shane,” I say. The sound of my voice isn’t my own, courtesy of the voice modulator I’m using.

His one good foot gives out, and the weight of his body falls on his arms. I’m sure that felt great on his dislocated shoulder. He cries out, his head tossed back, and his body swings around.

I stand in front of him five feet away, one hand casually resting in my pants pocket, and watch as he swings back around. He somehow manages to regain his balance on his uninjured foot.

“What do you w-want from m-me? I t-told Alexander everyth-thing I know.”

“Oh, for sure. Whoever hired you was smart enough to keep their identity a secret because A, they knew you’d give them up at the first threat of pain. And B, they knew there wasn’t a chance in hell of them surviving if you did give up their name.”

“So you know I did everything I could to help.”

“Yep. You were a good little boy, Shane, even as you pissed down your leg while you told Alexander everything you knew.”

His facial features lose some of the scrunched-up panic look, and he blows out a shaky breath. “I’m so glad you believe me.”

I smile behind my mask, my cheeks stretching wide, even though he can’t see it. “Of course, I believe you. Why wouldn’t I? I mean, you knew Alexander would kill you if he caught you in a lie.”

“S-so, he didn’t send y-you to k-kill me?” he stutters.

I stick my hand in the pouch of my hoodie. “No, Shane, he didn’t.”

He drops his head back and his one functioning eye closes. Like he’s sending up a prayer of thanks to the Man upstairs.

It’s all so amusing to watch. It tickles my fucking balls to think this man actually believes he’s off the hook and he’ll leave this room alive. I let him have his moment of peace.

Because I’m about to destroy it.

I move forward a step and pull out the dagger I have in my hoodie. It’s identical to the one I gave Savina, but with one difference. Whereas I’ve dulled the blade on hers, this one I’ve sharpened.

When Shane lifts his head and he sees I’ve moved forward, it only takes him a moment to notice the dagger. His eyes widen, and his complexion goes from an ashen white to a pale green.

“Y-you’re cutting me down, right?” he asks.

The question is a stupid one since he’s not tied to the ceiling by rope, but by a length of chain. He knows this, but he’s so desperate that his brain isn’t computing properly.

“Sure. I’m going to let you down,” I tell him.

I approach him slowly, letting his brain build that uncertain anticipation. It makes me so fucking happy to see the hope form in his eyes, because when the realization finally hits of what’s really going to happen, that arrogant emotion will turn to terror.

That’s what I anticipate.

I stop when there’s only a foot of space between us. I look at him through the eye holes in my mask. Even with him on his tiptoes, he’s still several inches shorter than me, so he’s forced to tilt his head back.

“W-wait. Wait,” he pants. His tongue darts out and licks away the blood and snot that’s covering his lips. “Y-you need a key.” He jingles the chain as best as he can. “You can’t cut through the chain.”

Again, my lips curve into a smile. Pulling the key out of my pocket, I dangle it in front of his face. “I know.”

I put the key back in my pocket. And that’s when realization begins to trickle in. That green paleness comes back, and his good eye widens so much he manages to open the swollen one a crack. The chain rattles as he tries to push away from me.

“Y-you said you w-were l-letting me go.”

I step up to him until our chests are nearly touching. “That’s the plan, Shane,” I tell him, the voice modulator making my voice come out a growl.

I lift the knife and set the tip to the hollow of his throat. I apply just the merest of pressure, and a bead of blood forms and trickles down his chest.

“I have every intention of releasing you from these chains.” He screams when I push the tip in deeper.

He’s honestly being a bit dramatic. I only pushed it in a centimeter or so.

I don’t want to puncture his trachea because I don’t want him dead yet.

“Just as soon as I take from you what you were going to take from me.”

His screams turn hitch-pitched when my blade starts moving downward, splitting his skin open. I have to pull it out a bit when I encounter his sternum. The dagger is sharp, but not enough to go through bone. That’s what the bone saw on the table is for.