Page 75 of The Lies That Shatter
“No, I think Finn needs to do this,” Red states, before she turns and speaks directly to Bran. “If you thought that me torturing you was going to be bad, it would have been nothing compared to this. Finn is fighting for the person he loves, and there’s no one more fucking dangerous. I suggest you tell him exactly what he wants to know, or we will be sending your body back to Katya in pieces.”
Bran’s eyes widen as a few stray tears slip down his cheeks. A thin sheen of sweat coats his forehead, and he starts rocking frantically, attempting to pull himself free from the restraints, but it’s no use. This is not our first time interrogating someone here. We have the process down to an art form. He’s tied to the chair in numerous ways, and the chair itself is bolted to the floor in such a way that it won’t move, even a little. He has no way out, and he knows it.
As he fights, blood spurts out of the wound on his thigh, and I know as soon as I pull the blade out, he’ll bleed out more. Luckily, I’ve done this before, and I’ve missed any major blood vessels, so it will take him a while to bleed out. But given the way Bran’s behaving, I don’t think he knows that.
I lean over, my lips beside his ear as I place my hand on the handle of the blade. My touch alone is enough to force the knife in just a little further, making him grunt in pain. “You’re going to want to tell me where McKenna is, right now.”
“Fuck you,” he spits, his nose wrinkling as he glares at me.
I simply shrug my shoulders, like his words don’t bother me, as I pull out the blade. He screams as I drag it out slowly, making sure to enhance the pain as much as I can, before I quickly pierce the exact same spot on the other thigh.
“Motherfucker,” he screams, thrashing about in his chair again. I can hear Bree chuckling beside me, clearly enjoying the little show.
While it’s clear for everyone to see that Bree loves the torture side of things, it’s not something I enjoy. I’m not torturing this asshole for fun. I’m doing it because he knows where McKenna is, and it’s the only way I can think of to get to her.
I’m sure when this is all over, and I have her back with me, I’ll feel some element of guilt over this. But right now, I don’t allow myself even a moment to feel anything except the anger that is driving me.
“I’m not going to stop until you tell me where she is,” I explain, as I slowly pull the blade out of his other thigh, watching the blood trickle onto the tiled floor beneath our feet.
There’s a decent sized pool developing beneath him, and I know Bran can see it too. His eyes widen as the red liquid begins to expand.
“Fuck you,” he sneers.
I twirl the blade between my fingers, in a similar way to how Bree did earlier, as I think about the best place to strike next. Using just the tip of the knife, I draw a line down the fabric of his shirt sleeve, cutting it open to expose the flesh beneath.
Once I can see the muscles in his arm, I waste no time drawing a line down the skin, from his shoulder to his elbow. I press hard enough that the skin and a good chunk of flesh beneath splits wide open, blood pouring from the gaping wound.
Brandon’s screams of pain are loud and frantic, to the point I almost can’t understand what he’s trying to say. I can hear the odd expletive, but otherwise, it’s just gibberish. He continues thrashing around, trying to get free so he can no doubt put some much needed pressure on his wounds.
“Anything to say?” I ask, not bothering to repeat the full question again. He knows what I want to know, he just has to tell me and this will all end.
“Fuck you,” he spits, though there’s far less venom than his earlier comeback.
His face is growing paler, tears flowing freely down his cheeks now, and his eyes are wild. For the first time, I think he can see how dangerous I really am.
Instead of matching the slice on his other arm, this time I take the tip of my blade and rest it underneath his eye. I capture one of his tears on the tip as his eyes widen and flick around frantically, fear now more than evident on his face.
Using the dull edge of the knife, I run it along the underside of his eye, watching as he tries to track my movement, his body trembling under my touch.
As I turn the blade over, the sharpest part pressing against his cheek, I lightly drag the dagger, carving a line into the flesh on his face. Although Bran screams, he holds his head perfectly still. My blade is so close to his eyeball, even the slightest movementwill force the knife into his eye—which I’m guessing he doesn’t want.
The wound on his cheek is deep enough to leave a scar, but it’s still relatively superficial. With the way blood drips down his face, I’m guessing Bran thinks it’s worse than it is.
“Okay…okay. I-I’ll tell you,” he mutters, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
I try to keep my expression blank, but I’m actually a little surprised he broke so soon. From everything I’ve heard about him, all the things my siblings have told me about, I expected a psycho like Bran to last a little longer under torture. If I’m being honest, I didn’t expect him to break at all, so I’m very pleased.
“Tell me everything,” I say, and I hear my family step closer so they can listen too.
“Melanie Whitlock told me that her boyfriend was cheating on her. She gave me all of McKenna’s details and asked me to kidnap her. She told me where to drop her off, which I did, but that’s all I know,” Bran confesses, his voice low and weak from all the blood he’s lost.
“Why you?” Red asks from beside me.
“I’ve been working for Whitlock. Melanie wanted the best, and he asked me to take care of it for her.”
Shane steps closer, drawing Bran’s attention his way. He sneers at his cousin, clearly unhappy to see Shane here. “Why are you working with Whitlock? What are you up to?”
Brandon glares at his cousin, venom dripping from his words as he replies. “I would’ve thought that was obvious, Vinnie. Whitlock is playing with you. He’s long suspected that you didn’t really cut ties with the Doughtys, and that you’re still loyal to Bree.
