Page 8 of Unforgiving Queen

His eyeballs just about popped out of his head. “I demand—”

I punched him with one of the electrodes, relishing in the sound of his skull cracking. “Why did you flee the scene when you almost killed a girl three days ago?”

“I didn’t.”

“Okay, let’s try this again.” I pressed the pads on his chest again and…Boom!

His eyeballs rolled to the back of his head before they came back to focus on me.

“Don’t know—” I raised a pad, ready to shock him again, when he screamed, “No, no, no.”

“Last chance, or I’ll fry your brain cells with this.”

I might have spotted a tear or two in his eyes. “I was instructed not to get caught,” he whimpered.

My eyes flitted to Dante who finally looked interested in this conversation.

“By whom?”

“I don’t know.”

I shocked him again, relishing how the skin on his ribs twitched. “By whom?” I gritted.

“I don’t know,” he cried like a baby. Each shockwave had him drooling. His tongue lolled as spit streamed down his chin. His eyes were red-rimmed from a combination of torture and sleep deprivation. Dante and Ghost had been at him for hours. His skin was covered in welts and he smelled like piss. I zapped him again, feeling a sick satisfaction at the way his body convulsed—just as the product promised when I’d bought it off the dark web. “All I know is that they want your distribution lines. The blonde girl was meant to be leverage.”

Iunleashed.

Static filled my ears as I gave my full attention to the asshole in front of me.

I pulled my knife, grabbing his hair so he could meet my gaze. “If you think my brother was brutal, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

I rammed a blade into his abdomen with such force he let out a piercing scream. For the next thirty minutes, I sliced his skin, carving it to pieces while Dante toyed with the other guy, ending his life way too soon.

“Give me the name,” I gritted, twisting the knife in his body. “Or I’ll slice you open and make you watch as your bowels are splayed all over the floor.” His face filled with agony and blood sputtered from his mouth. “Last chance.”

He met my eyes, terror lurking in his dull brown gaze.

“All I know is that they want an open route to move their products,” he panted.

“What products?” It might narrow it down to the organization if I knew what they were moving.

“Drugs.” Every fucking organization in the underworld. “Weapons.” Okay, that eliminated a few families. “Flesh.”

I stilled. Human trafficking had been eliminated from the Omertà. Most of Europe. The entire U.S. East Coast. Colombia. But the Brazilian cartel and the Yakuza still dipped their toes in those filthy waters. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Who is it?” Dante growled. “Brazilians?” The fucker just stared blankly. “Yakuza? Venezuelans?”

“I. Don’t. Know.” Then he surprised me. He started laughing. Maniacally. Disturbingly. It was the kind that sent a creepy cold feeling up my spine. “Fuck. You.”

This fucker wouldn’t tell us anything else.

I jerked the blade upward and opened him up. He slumped forward again, life quickly leaving him. Stepping back, I slid the knife out and part of his bowels dropped with a grotesque splash onto the floor.

Another jerk of his body and the life left his wretched face.

I stared at him, seconds stretching into minutes. My heart was in agony, each beat more painful than the last. I knew at that very moment that there’d be no getting over Reina. When I turned, Dante was staring at me as if he’d never seen me before.

I raised my eyebrows. “What?”