Page 133 of Twisted Proposal

"Strange. Every Solovyov lackey sings the same tired song." I leaned closer, my voice dropping to ice. "He'll kill you if you talk? I'm going to kill you regardless. Your only choice is how much pain accompanies your departure."

"There's nothing you could do that?—"

"He'll never see you again," I cut him off, contempt dripping from every syllable. "But that sounds like a challenge."

My men's low laughter from the back wall only heightened the fear radiating off this waste of flesh.

We'd kept the last batch of Solovyov's soldiers alive for days before feeding them to the incinerator.

Still breathing.

Brutus had watched, pissing himself.

The furnaces remained hot, waiting.

I brought my face to his ear, breathing in his stench of piss and terror. "I'm tired. It's been a long few days, so here's what happens. Tell me where Solovyov is—quick death. Don't tell me..." I straightened, sighing with theatrical weariness. "I just don't have the energy to torture you properly."

Hope flickered in his eyes.

"So I'm calling Roman."

The hope evaporated. His face went chalk-white.

"The devil...the one who…they never found all the body parts," he stammered.

"Oh, you've heard of my cousin? And of course they didn't find everything.He got hungry."

Brutus's terror was a tangible thing now, filling the room like a toxic gas.

Most of my men laughed.

The newer ones shifted uncomfortably, still uncertain which Roman stories were myth and which were worse than the legends.

"Your choice is simple." I lifted my hunting knife, trailing it across his quivering hand. "Tell me where Solovyov is—clean death. Stay silent—and I unleash the monster haunting your nightmares."

"I don't know," he screamed as I drove the blade through his hand, pinning it to the table.

His shriek satisfied something primal in me, but his continued silence finally convinced me he truly knew nothing.

Useless.

I raised my gun and put a bullet between his eyes.

A muffled scream followed by a door slam reached my ears.

I silenced my men with one finger pressed to my lips.

A witness.

In our world, the only acceptable witness was a dead one.

I stalked down the hallway, gun ready.

All office doors were locked.

Only the supply closet remained.

I ripped it open.