Chapter 18 – Azrael
My rage resurfaced the second my shitkickers landed on the stairs. That was exactly what I’d be doing tonight. I was going to torture that Russian asshole until I knew everything that he could divulge, then I would play with him some more, inflicting as much suffering and humiliation as possible. He’d hurt the sister of someone I deeply cared for and kidnapped, sold, raped, and sodomized dozens of other girls. That shit was unforgiveable.
Vengeance was sweet but karma sure was a bitch.
Bet that Russian didn’t have a fuckin’ clue.
I’d given explicit instructions before I descended below. Wraith and Exorcist had already done a number on this asshole, but it was nothing more than a simple beating. He was stripped down completely. No dignity was allowed to remain. We were taking everything from him, and he would understand that from the moment this Russian son of a bitch entered the Crossroads. There wasn’t a single one of my brothers who wasn’t going to get a turn before I finally stepped from the shadows and began my interrogation.
Grim stood off to the side as he watched everything unfold. The man could be as ruthless and cold as the rest of us, but he was far more calculating. Where I was ruled by rage and the need for retribution, Grim calmly assessed the situation and then acted when the time was right. Few lasted when his full power was unleashed. There was a reason he was the pres of this club. His Reaper was the first. The biggest Bastard of us all.
Mammoth took a turn next, brass knuckles over one fist as he got in his hits. The big guy wasn’t even winded once he was through, but blood steadily dripped from the Russian’s mouth and nose, cuts around both eyes and his chin in addition to his bare chest where Hannibal had gotten creative with his knives. My brother was an expert with a knife. He chose only the sharpest and most lethal.
Diablo was still cleaning up our mess from earlier or he would have enjoyed the time with our guest. That left Bodie, Lucky, and Xenon. Bodie and Lucky took turns with th
eir fists. Xenon declined, having far too much to do as he dug deeper into the trafficking ring we’d begun to infiltrate and expose. Jigsaw was a nomad and not currently in residence at the Crossroads which meant it was finally my turn.
Every single one of my brothers wore their skull printed bandanas over their faces. This provided anonymity as well as making it difficult to distinguish one of us from the others. Our arms were covered to keep recognizable tattoos hidden. We wore leather gloves. Black clothing and jeans.
The point was that we wanted to be frightening and intimidating, especially when the video of this Russian’s last minutes finally circulated. Our enemies needed to take us seriously.
Grim was a brilliant strategist.
“You like to rape and burn girls, huh?”
I didn’t hesitate to go right for the throat, so to speak.
The Russian laughed, blood dribbling down his chin. “Zacroy svoy peesavati rot, sooka.”
Not a single one of us spoke Russian but I had a feeling he’d refuse English, so I uploaded an app on my phone that translated every word before we began. Shut your fucking mouth, bitch. The translation was loud and clear.
So that was how it was gonna be?
“Amazing how you understand every word that I say.” I rubbed my chin thoughtfully over the bandana. “What’s the matter with your dick? Can’t find a girl who will take it willingly?”
“Idi obsosi tyaevo papu, kak ti delayesh kazhdyi den, ti shluha yebanaya.”
“Go suck off your daddy like you usually do every night, you fucking whore.” The robotic voice of the translator was almost comical as it repeated his words.
Grim shook his head. This guy wasn’t going to give us shit without the proper motivation.
I was quickly losing my patience.
“Take him down,” I ordered, gesturing to the wooden table across the room. No metal autopsy table this time. Mammoth would have to watch his strength. I wanted to use the new restraints we installed that would keep him strapped down without having to use a lot of muscle.
Wraith and Ex forced him onto his stomach and shoved him down against the heavy dark oak. Thick leather straps would anchor the Russian’s body against the wood at both the shoulders and wrists. His legs were also secured at the ankles but not as tight. Bent at the waist, he’d be able to move them a little, but his upper body was completely locked down.
“Why don’t you tell us how you meet these girls?”
I picked up a cat o’ nine tails from my workbench, swinging it around as it made a light swishing sound. I’d had this one custom made by a friend. The herringbone pattern of the braid on the handle was downright beautiful but it was the crack that really made it special. The whip molded well inside my palm and wrapped around a target like it was giving it a nice, secure hug. This one was fairly new and still a little stiff.
Perfect.
“Yobanyi karas’.” Fucking moron.
The Russian was still being obstinate.
I pulled back my arm and let loose as the ends of the whip landed on the Russian’s exposed flesh. His skin was instantly lacerated as a howl of both rage and pain launched from his throat.