Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
When I pulled away and sat down on the chair, he looked at me through swollen eyes. His cracked lips were bleeding profusely, and his cheeks were red and oozing with blood from several cuts. They weren’t deep, but they were enough to cause him blinding pain.
His mouth opened, but the sounds that came through his lips was almost too soft to hear. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it. I don’t know where he is.”
It had been two hours since he was tied to the chair. One of Alberto’s men. But he knew nothing of Alberto’s whereabouts.
It had been one week since Ayla was taken away. It didn’t matter that I had already killed eight of Alberto’s men. Tortured them until they begged for death. No one knew where he was.
Reaching forward, I grabbed the index finger of his right hand. I looked into his eyes as I bent the finger backward. His body shook as he tried to escape my cruel ministration. But he had nowhere to go.
He was at my mercy.
I heard a pop sound; his finger cracked, his bone crushing. I let the broken finger go as he wailed. His screams still resonated around the room when I grabbed two more fingers, bending them into an impossible angle until I heard another crack. Or several cracks, I should say.
This time, the bones broke through the skin. They stuck out, taunting him.
“Where is he?” I said through gritted teeth.
“I don’t…don’t…kn…ow…” he sobbed, looking at his mutilated fingers.
Viktor wrapped his hand around the man’s hair and pulled his head backward, his neck pushing painfully against the back of the chair. A wet cloth slapped against his face before he could protest.
Viktor held the cloth, heavy and wet with freezing water, over the fucker’s face. He spluttered and fought against the invasion as Viktor pressed harder, stopping his circulation.
Then the cloth was gone. He panted for air but could barely breathe through his swollen nose.
“I’m going to ask one last time. Where is Alberto?” I snapped, pushing the chair away as I stood up.
He shook his head several times. “He…didn’t tell…me…pl…please…beli…eve me.”
My fist hit his stomach as Viktor placed the cloth over his face again. It was wetter this time, and I knew the water was filling his mouth and nose, suffocating him.
When I saw his body slowly giving up on life, I nodded at Viktor to take the wet cloth away. I loomed over the man’s body, glaring down at him with all the hatred I felt.
My fingers wrapped around his hand, and I pressed hard, twisting until his wrist snapped under my hold. His eyes widened as a scream tore out from his throat.
“Please…kill…me…” he begged, struggling but too weak to fight.
He knew his death was coming. And he begged for it. What a fucking coward.
My eyes narrowed on him. It always came to this, Alberto’s men begging me for death without giving me the answer I wanted…needed.
Alberto was smart. He went into hiding without telling anyone. I went after his right-hand men, and even they didn’t know.
But there must have been someone helping him stay hidden this long. Whoever it was, I wasn’t going to stop until I found him.
Pulling my gun out, I aimed at his knee. A shot was fired, a bullet piercing his knee cap. He screamed in agony, and I chuckled. I only chuckled on the outside—inside, my monster was roaring with laughter. It demanded more blood to be shed.
More blood from my Angel’s tormentors.
Another shot. Another bullet. Right in his other knee. His scream pierced through my ears, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my spiral knife. The man’s eyes widened, and he shook his head, his whimpers getting louder. He thought I was going to end his life easily.
How naïve of him.
Viktor smiled and pulled out his knife, too. One slice across his neck. Quick and swift. So deep that his blood poured around us and his bones were showing.
The man made a gurgling sound, blood oozing from the cut at an accelerating rate.
But it wasn’t over. Not yet.
Holding my knife tight in my hand, I pulled back and then plunged it into his chest, right in his heart. His mouth fell open in a silent scream, his blood squirting around us. The floor was covered with it. The air smelled of death and the copper smell of blood.
I smirked as he convulsed and then collapsed against the chair, eyes wide open. They were full of fear until he was lifeless. Just another dead body.
Another step toward finding my Angel.
“Now what?” Viktor asked, his lips curled up in a sadistic smile. He rubbed his gloved hands together in anticipation.
“The next man on the list,” I answered, my voice chilling. Anyone else would have pissed their pants at that tone, but not my men. After all, we craved the same thing.