“Let’s start with you.” I stop in front of the man I threw the jar at in the ale house. “Who sent you to attack my men?”
The man spits at my feet. “I’m not telling you anything.”
I look at Gabriel, and he steps forward and lands a solid punch to the man’s gut. The prisoner doubles over, wheezing.
“I’ll ask again,” I say. “Who sent you?”
Silence stretches between us, broken only by the man’s labored breathing. I straighten and reach for the dagger at my hip. The blade gleams in the torchlight as I test its edge against my thumb.
“Last chance,” I warn.
The prisoner lifts his head and glares. “Go to Hades!”
In one fluid motion, I drive the dagger intohis thigh. The man screams as I twist the blade, and his cries turn to choked sobs.
“Talk,” I growl, “or the next one goes somewhere far less pleasant.”
“All right. All right,” he gasps. “It’s Alvina and Hawke. They’re planning to overthrow you.”
Coldness settles around my heart. Alvina is here too? I should have known she wouldn’t be far from her half-brother, Hawke.
It takes people like them to stir up this much unrest—people who can rally support and gain followers. Someone with connections, and more coin than they know what to do with.
My hands curl into fists. Alvina thinks she can destroy all I’ve built here. I won’t let her succeed!
I jerk the dagger free, wiping the blade clean on the man’s surcoat. “Tell me everything.”
The words pour out of him like blood from a wound. “They got people everywhere. In the markets, the taverns, even some of the noble houses.”
I exchange glances with Gabriel and Luc. This is worse than we thought.
“Where do they meet?” I demand.
The prisoner hesitates, and I press the tip of my dagger against his other thigh.
He flinches and speaks in a rush, his words tumbling over each other. “The old tannery on the east side of town. That’s all I know.”
I turn my attention to the second prisoner, a wiry man withdark red hair. His eyes dart nervously between me and the bleeding man beside him. “Your turn. Care to save us both some time?”
The red-haired man swallows hard. “I—I don’t know anything.”
“Wrong answer.” I grab a fistful of his hair and yank his head back. The edge of my blade presses against his throat, drawing a thin line of blood.
“Every lie costs you,” I say coldly. “How much are you willing to pay?”
Tears stream down the man’s dirty cheeks. “Please, I…”
I dig the blade in deeper. “Names. Now.”
“Merrick,” he blurts out. “Balik. They’re the ones who gave us orders.”
Merrick and Balik? I’m not as familiar with them, but I know enough to not be surprised that they’re involved.
I ease the pressure on the red-haired man’s throat, but don’t release him. “Keep talking.”
He spills everything he knows—meeting places, drop points for messages, even a crude description of their insignia.
The third man proves more resilient. It takes Gabriel breaking two of his fingers before he cracks. But crack he does, confirming what the others have said and adding a few new details about their weapon caches.
