A man is tied to a chair in the middle of the room; the side of his face that I can see is a mask of blood as he stares at the two men against the far wall.
The two men who are definitely familiar to me. Ezra fingers a lighter, flipping the cap open and closed as flames flicker on the bright metal. His eyes don’t leave the tied-up man’s face, and it’s hard for me to slide my gaze from his face to Ashe’s eyes.
Ashe looks…impassive. He appears that he doesn’t carewherethe two of them are, just that he probably has better things to be doing. It’s a surprise since Ezra just looks so fixated and ready, but I suppose that even bad guys have their own version of good cop, bad cop.
I just wonder who’s who in this scenario. Neither of them feels very ‘good cop’ to me, and I wonder if that’s why Isaac is supposed to be here instead of Ezra.
My gaze goes back to the man in the chair, and I’m thankful that none of them are facing toward me. Not only that, but this window is the furthest from the lamp that sits on an end table, so even if they did look over here, it wouldn’t be obvious that I’m actuallyhereat first glance.
“He’s going to set you on fire,” Ashe’s voice is just as bored as his expression, and he inclines his head toward Ezra before leaning it against the wall behind him once more. Slowly he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, pushing them to his elbows with a sigh. “If you don’t tell us why you’re hanging around Solen City, he’s going to burn every inch of you and then peel off your skin so he can do it again to everything underneath.”
My teeth grit at the words. It’s a creative threat, for sure, and not one I’d ever like to see or experience. If it comes down to that, I’ll gladly leave. I don’t like fire or flames, and I’m not about to watch someone get burned to death.
The man on the chair squirms, and as I watch, he jerks at the cuffs that bind his hands to the back of the wooden chair. “Fuck you,” he says, the words directed straight at Ezra.
“You’re not my type,” the little psychopath says without missing a beat, a smirk curling his lips. “You’re notnearlypretty enough, and I already heard you scream when I broke your nose.” So that’s where all the blood on his face came from. “It’s notsweetenough to make me want to ignore your face, so I can fuck more screams out of you.”
The man moves his head from side to side and lets out a laugh. “Anything you do to me won’t be nearly as bad as what I’d get for telling you shits anything,” he says at last. “So either kill me or let me go.”
“Let yougo?” Ashe’s brows rise so far that they’re in danger of becoming invisible under his black hair that’s loose around his shoulders. “You’ve been following us for weeks, and you think we’re going tolet you go? You tried to slit Ezra’s throat, and you think we’re going to let you walk away?”
Slit his throat? My gaze immediately goes back to Ezra, and when I look more closely, I can just see a bandage that covers him from one side of his neck to the other, peeking out from the neckline of his shirt.
But if it had ever bothered Ezra, it doesn’t now. His grin is proof enough of that, and the way he stares at the man hungrily, as if he can barely hold himself back from doing something dreadful to him.
“Your only choice now is whether you die fast or slow,” Ashe says, hands going to his pockets so he can hook his thumbs in the black denim. “Fast means a gun or a slit throat. I’ll make sure to do itproperlyso that whoever finds you knows what you did wrong with Ez.”
“Slow means I get to play with you,” Ezra purrs, his voice cold and completely empty of sympathy. “And I have all night, so I’mbeggingyou. Keep doing what you’re doing. Don’t answer his questions. Let me take my time. I’ll keep you breathing until the sun rises, I promise you that.”
From my vantage point at the window, I see the man’s face fall, fear showing in his eyes for the first time since I’ve started to watch.
He’s under the impression Ezra is serious, and it scares him.
It scaresme, as well, and I’m not the one in the chair. I’m a little too close to all of this, truth be told, but no matter what I use to try and convince myself, I can’t seem to get my feet to move.
And embarrassingly, it isn’tfearthat keeps me rooted to the spot.
It’s anticipation and the nervous flutter of excitement in my chest because I want to see if the two of them are all bark or if they’re going to make good on their word. I’ll stay as long as it’s somewhat safe for me or until Ezra starts using his lighter to do damage instead of just to intimidate.
“If the choice is death ordeath, why am I going to tell you anything?” the man asks, false bravado evident in his tone. “Why would I, when the outcome is the same either way? You’re both fucked upidiotsif you think that you can pressure me into telling you just by offering me a quicker death.”
He doesn’t believe his own words, and it’s obvious even though I’ve never been in this situation before.
“Because death from Ashe and death frommeare two very different experiences. And I’d think you’d want the easy way out,” Ezra explains, though he shrugs like it really doesn’t matter to him whether or not he gets to grant the man a slow death or not. “Do you really want to be here all night while I cut you apart and see just how much damage the cigarettes you inhale have done to your lungs before I set you on fire from the inside?”
That’s gruesome, and I’mdefinitelynot sticking around for it.
“Or do you want to barely feel a thing? Which is better than you deserve, by the way.”
“You don’t even know me,” the man replies, half-disbelieving. “You don’t know anythingaboutme.”
“I could take about seven educated guesses that would probably be pretty on point,” Ashe cuts in. “But I’d rather you tell me what I want to know since I don’t like to guess, and keeping tabs on Ezra here without letting him hurt you is going to start getting exponentially harder as the minutes tick by. You’re running out of chances, and Ireallydon’t like to ask for anything more than once. So…”
He walks forward and puts his booted foot under the chair, pausing only a moment before he flips it backward and sends it and the man clattering to the floor in a loud crash of wood and a groan.
“Why have you been following us, andwhydid you try to kill my friend?”
“Poorly,” Ezra puts in, just because he can, and rubs the top of the bandage on his throat.