His moans like a little bitch.
“Uh-uh. We’ve already established the routine, and that wasn’t part of it,” I say as I slap him across his sweaty face.
When he finally quits whimpering and moaning, I ask, “Do you understand the rules that I’ve given you?”
“Yes,” he says quietly.
“That’s fucking grand. Is your name really Anton Yelchin?” I ask and lean over so that my eyes are looking directly into his own deep brown eyes.
“Yes,” he answers quickly.
“Are you a made man? You’ve got the stars.”
He hesitates. I know why he doesn’t want to admit it, but that hesitation is going to cost him.
“Yes,” he finally says.
“Jude, remove his right big toe,” I say without looking away from Anton.
Eyes wide, the man starts to struggle while sputtering, “I’m telling you the truth!”
“I know that, Anton, but you hesitated. You didn’t want to tell me something, and I can’t allow that,” I say.
Jude lines up the snips with Anton’s toe and the stupid fuck’s sputtering turns into screams of rage. “You can’t do this!”
The sound is clearly heard over his protests before he starts screaming in pain.
I don’t move away from, Anton. I keep my eyes directly on his even while he is screaming and spitting in my face. He needs to see me, he needs to know I’m the fucker whose causing the pain.
I’m the man that’s become god in his shitty little world.
When his head finally drops forward, I decide to take a breather. I head over to a wall and wipe my hands on Anton’s ripped shirt. My hands look big and bloody still, but I figure it’s only going to get bloodier.
Walking back over, I poke around again in Simon’s bag and pull out a small spray bottle of bleach.
Aiming it at his leg, I give five direct squirts.
It takes his body a couple of seconds to realize that the cold liquid isn’t a soothing balm before he starts to howl so loud I swear he’s going to burst my eardrums.
I’ve gotta admit to myself, that screaming sounds pretty fucking good.
“Damn dude, that looks like it hurts,” James says with a laugh, coming up to stand behind me.
“I bet it does,” I say chuckling.
“You fucking bastard!” Anton roars out at me as he tries to wrestle his way from the chair he’s strapped into.
“I am.” I shrug my shoulders then punch his nose.
Punch it hard enough that I feel it breaking.
“Why are you fucking around in Bethlehem?” I ask.
“You ran us out of Garden City. We want somewhere to work,” he slurs from the blood draining down his throat.
“Who else is working with you guys?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
Lashing out, I catch him in the stomach. The air inside of him explodes out in a rush and I watch his eyes go round.
Knocked the air right out of him.
Standing up from Anton, I look to James and Jude. “Cut off the big and baby toe on his uninjured leg.”
“You going to work your way up his body?” Andrew asks.
“Yeah. He needs to understand I don’t give a fuck. He answers me or he hurts. I don’t care if he’s gonna be legless by the time this is done,” I say.
James and Jude get to work on Anton, and I have to raise my voice so I can be heard over his screams. “Lucifer, Simon. What specifics do you need?”
“We need to know who’s funding their operation. The Yakuza theoretically have the means, but it’s not feeling right,” Andrew says as he looks to Lucifer.
“Agreed. They recently took a chance trying to take me out at a church,” Simon says after him. “They shouldn’t have been able to find me that easily. We’ve patched up any security leaks since then, but I’m not entirely sure who’s fucking with us.”
“The bar and Cherry’s home were very expertly done,” Lucifer adds.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“They blew up a bar with almost fifty people in it, or someone did. The men they used were out of Eastern Europe. What we can tell from the bomb forensics is that they weren’t random men. These men had military explosive experience. They made sure to do exactly what they needed with precision.”
Fuck me. I’m not surprised Lucifer has taken over so much space, but international fucking warfare is definitely above what I was expecting.
“Let’s get to it then,” I say as my hand slams into Anton’s testicles.
The whimper he lets out isn’t loud enough for me, though. His leg, and everything else he’s been through, has worn on him pretty heavily.
And I need louder. I need more.
“Time to up my game,” I mutter to Anton. “You guys still have any of those rivet guns they used to use here for the sheet metal?”
“Oh fuck,” James groans as he points to Jude. “I’m not holding any more bloody stumps tonight. I’ve touched too much gore lately.”