A Loaded Gun

Chapter 37

Obviously being in that cell for the past few months had broken his sanity, which might make interrogation harder but was satisfying as hell.

"I'm here to talk about Brooke," I said coolly, using a large knife to clean dirt from my fingernails. He watched me apprehensively, jumping when I stabbed the knife into the tabletop.

"What about that–"

"You don't talk," I interrupted him before he could finish what he was saying, which was most likely going to be derogatory. I guess we hadn't broken him enough yet.

"Now, Brooke has been kidnapped. I want you to tell me who would do that." I stared into his eyes, not moving.

He read the threat in them and slowly blinked, some clarity returning to his face before he laughed maniacally again.

"He did it! Oh, that son of a b!tch really did it! I guess he got impatient, needed his teardrop!" his voice faded off into garbled mutterings.

"Who did what?" I asked lowly, not letting my anger take over, yet.

His head jerked up as if he had forgotten I was in the room, shaking his head in fear. "Oh no. I can't tell you that. Who knows what he'd do to me if I said anything." his voice trailed off again, and I sighed in exasperation.

I yanked one disgusting hand toward me, holding the knife against his only remaining finger.

"I know exactly what I'll do to you if you don't say anything, and I am much, much closer than he is. Would you like me to start peeling the skin off your body, starting with this pathetic finger, or would you like to tell me who the hell has Brooke?"

I stared at him, knowing he could see the promise of pain hidden in my eyes.

He hesitated, and I knew this would not be a fun conversation. "He...was a customer. I–I needed drugs, and she was right there! He paid good money."

My whole body tensed. Can't kill him yet, can't kill him yet, don't do it. Before I could stop myself, his only surviving digit had severed itself from his right hand.

"Tell me exactly who this person is and what they did to my sister," I said, resting my knife on his wrist. "Or your hand is next."

Benny took a shuddering breath, staring at his bleeding nub of a hand. "His name was Richard. He was a repeat customer. I dunno what he did with her, but he always paid cash upfront so I didn't ask questions.

"He offered to buy her, but I wanted to wait. Get a few more years of cooking and cleaning. I told him he could have her when she turned 18.

"He didn't like that, but I told him I would cut him off if he argued. He...was dangerous."

He spewed the words, the fear in his voice almost tangible. I could feel myself shaking from the sheer amount of rage I was experiencing, and I knew what was happening next.

"Lucas, leave. Go find out more about Richard"

"Marcus, let me be her–"

"LEAVE!" I bellowed, my self control snapping. I stood up, ready to rain hell on the pathetic slime in front of me. This was all his fault.

I watched him cower and whimper with satisfaction, stalking toward the table of instruments we had reserved for special customers.

"Let's have some fun, shall we?" I smirked, my smile demonic.

Lucas POV

I have never seen Marcus so furious, and he has been angry for 90% of my life. I wished I could've been there to watch him flay that bastard alive, but Brooke was more important.

I stormed into our main base, yelling for a rundown on every single Richard in a 50 mile radius.

I was about to start my own search when my phone rang, and I groaned when I saw Michael's name flashing on the screen.

"What?" I snarled, putting him on speaker and slamming the keyboard of my computer when it didn't work fast enough.

"We've...got an issue," he said uneasily.

"We've got lots of issues at the moment, the most important one being finding our F*CKING SISTER!" I screamed, knowing he didn't deserve it but needing someone to yell at.

"Yeah, well we've also got a Daniel situation. He is not happy. He just threw an IV stand at a nurse, stabbed a doctor with the sedative shot they tried to give him, and is currently screaming 'I will rip your f*cking head off' at Wanda."

I groaned, knowing there was no way we could calm him. "Strap him to the bed and give him another sedative, I don't f*cking care. Just leave me alone, I've got work."

"We tried to strap him to the bed, but he tore through them. The doctors are too scared to get close," he said apprehensively.

"Shoot him with a f*cking elephant tranquilizer then," I snarled, hanging up and dismissing his concerns to focus on the more important issue: Richard.

A/N I don't feel comfortable writing torture scenes, so I'm leaving that particular fun part out.