“Refinement isn’t important. Your commitment to my daughter is.”
So, this was a test. Not surprising.
He puffed on his cigar. “Would you kill for her, West? Would you die for her?”
“Whatever is necessary.”
“Prove it.”
Alright then. Beating this guy to a pulp was step one of earning the crazy one’s favour. I’d take one for the team and try to convince him to like us.
I stepped up to the captive man, grabbing his chin and lifting his head. His gaze was full of vitriol, a disdain so strong I almost recoiled.
He wouldn’t talk easily.
“Last chance,” I warned him anyway.
He jerked his head from my grip, spitting in my direction. “Fuck you, Alfieri cunts. You’ll kill me before I say a damn thing to you.”
Not likely. If my tactic of beating him didn’t work, I was sure Nico had a backup plan involving removing his testicles or plucking out his eyes.
He wasn’t some highly trained spy, and no normal human could stand up in the face of that kind of sadistic torture.
“Got any brass knuckles handy?” I asked one of Nico’s guards. “Easier on the hands.”
They looked to Nico, who nodded. “Over there.”
I slid the brass knuckles onto each hand, clenching my fists until I got them positioned right. The captive was spoutingmore obscenities as I took my time getting ready. It wasn’t that I needed the time—I could have clocked him in the nose immediately after Nico gave the order.
The longer I waited, the more he would sweat.
This was an interrogation, so we wanted him sweating. I was more used to bar brawls and teaching lessons to thugs, but there had been a few instances I’d made it hurt a little extra.
Like the men who took Violet.
Once she was safely with us again, every man who’d lived through her extraction had been given a long, torturous death.
“You’re going to answer his questions,” I said coldly, staring him down. “One way or another. Stand him up.”
Nico’s guys hauled him to his feet, hanging his shackled hands from a hook in his ceiling. His feet dangled, only his toes touching the ground.
I landed a quick uppercut to his torso, hearing the satisfying crack of a rib breaking.
He thrashed like an angry fish on his hook, and I grinned.
This was really fucking cathartic.
I’d rather people stay the hell away from my omega, but if they insisted on trying to screw her over, I’d do this to all of them. The man wasn’t about to talk yet—he hadn’t realized how much pain he could be put through here.
Another punch landed, breaking another rib.
Then I kicked him in the stomach, laughing at his bloodcurdling scream.
“Enjoying yourself?” Nico asked.
I coughed, wiping sweat off my brow with the back of my hand and trying to calm down my adrenaline rush. “Not too much. Don’t worry. I know we don’t want a broken rib puncturing anything fatal.”
He blew a smoke ring into the air, then held out a cigar case to me. “Want one?”
