A shadow passed over his gaze as his breathing went fast again. “I don’t know.”
“Liar.” King walked forward as George let out a whimper.
“Fine!” he shouted. “Fucking fine. He’s going to find Dahlia. I don’t know that for sure, but when we first got back here, she was all he would fucking talk about. I had to listen to him talk about the prude bitch for hours—”
King embedded another knife into his thigh. My eyes narrowed on George as he screamed, wondering if I could fucking kill him. I knew he was useful, but him calling Dahlia a bitch in any context made me see fucking red. Luckily, King seemed to have a good solution in mind.
“How many times?” he growled.
“How many times what?” George cried out as King twisted the knife in his hand.
“How many times have you referred to her as that in your life?”
I smiled at his question.
“I have no idea!” His voice went high-pitched as King pushed the knife in his leg down further. “Fuck, fine. Three, maybe? I have no bloody idea!”
“Three it is.” King nodded and walked towards the back of the room as I stood.
“Wait, where are you going?” George demanded.
I offered an arched brow. “Unless you have anything else to tell us, I’m done here. Do you?”
“No,” he admitted and then tried to wriggle out of his ties as King walked forward with an assortment of tools, Lincoln grabbing my chair from me. I made it to the staircase, Stratton offering me a head nod as George called for me to not leave him with them. I didn’t sympathize with him at all.
“What are you going to do to me?!” George cried out as I heard King laugh at something Lincoln said, making me know they would be down here for a bit. Hopefully the piece of shit would survive. Or pass out and save himself from feeling the pain.
As I walked upstairs, I looked down at my shirt and realized it was covered in blood. I couldn’t go back to Dahlia like this. Pulling both my jacket and the shirt off, I walked towards the staircase to my left and took it down, leading to a massive underground weapons vault that I had to use my handprint to get into. Once I was inside, I lifted a gun off the rack and went towards our indoor shooting range.
I knew I should go back upstairs and get some sleep.
Go back upstairs and see Dahlia.
Instead, I found myself grabbing a shit ton of bullets and setting up the range for long distance shooting. I needed something to keep my mind focused, mostly because I had only one thought on my mind, and I knew I wouldn’t sleep until I got my damn answer.
Where the fuck was Ian McCaffrey?