I’m not worried about Kane right now. I know he’s probably in pain. He’s probably being tortured. We may bring him home and stick him in a coffin instead of in his bed.
And should that happen, I will make sure every person who ever whispered the name Romano with any kind of reverence pays with the blood of their descendants. But my faith in Kane is stronger than that, so fear doesn’t climb my mental walls.
I’m able to focus as I make my way to the playroom. It still reeks of blood, and I realize that I’ve left the fucker in the chair. He’s not quite to the point of smelling yet, but it’s going to be a problem here soon. He’s stiff, so it’s a little difficult for me to get the tape off his hands and feet, but I manage it.
We have a deep freeze in the back, and I drag him by his leg, tossing him into the center where the rest of his blood will congeal, adding to the rust tint on the concrete floors. The doors close with a loud clang, and then I grab the hose and give the floor a quick spray before tossing it to the side and grabbing my travel bag from the cabinet.
It’s wide enough to take everything I need with me. My chemical kit has various drugs, including chloroform, which will make the initial capture easy as long as we can get the jump on this guy. I don’t know his name, so for me, he’s just the next sack of meat that’s holding all the information we need, and none of Romano’s men has ever been strong enough to last more than an hour under my care.
Beside the chemical kit, I place my knife roll. It’s as expensive and high-end as some of the top chefs’ in the world, but there’s more than just paring and butcher knives. These are used for small tortures enough to get men gasping and ones that will flay the skin from their bones if I need to go that far.
Usually just the sight of it will have them pissing their pants and spilling dark secrets that none of us give a shit about, but I’m kind of hoping this fucker will let me use a few of them. I don’t usually take it with us on trips, but I don’t trust that we’ll make it back here to my room before we have to stop and…chat.
I smile to myself as I unroll it and finger one of the blades. It’s long and slender—perfect for slitting throats. The blade is so sharp it can slice through skin and have them bleeding out before they even register the pain.
It’s nothing like the knife they used on me. That one was too dull, and the pressure that bitch had to use almost crushed my windpipe as she severed my vocal cords.
I think about Vanessa every so often. She’s on my list—directly after Romano. Kane has promised her to me as a gift as long as I’m a good boy and do everything he says during our current hunt. So far, behaving has been easy, but I honestly don’t know if I could control myself if I ever saw Vanessa’s face again.
And at night, sometimes, I dream of her last screams as she chokes on her own blood.
I won’t take her throat. No.
I think I’ll take her tongue and wait for the horror to set into her eyes. Maybe I’ll even let her live that way for a while. Until she starts to believe that silencing her was my revenge.
I’m not sure that bitch knew what monster she awoke inside me when she failed to ensure that I would die, but it’ll be my pleasure to teach her that lesson.
But that’s a game for another day.
I add ropes and tape to the bag, extra ammo, a couple of burner phones, and a hood with a built-in gag. Some of these things would be fun to play with later, and I make a mental note for when everyone’s safe and sound back home.
My phone buzzes just as I’m zipping up, and I pull it out of my pocket.
There’s a number on the screen that I don’t recognize with a single word.
Moving.
I know it’s from Kane. I can see it’s a text he’s sent to all of us, and I know without a doubt that Phoenix has already started tracking it. Knowing Kane, he’ll have just enough seconds to get a location before the phone is destroyed, but it’s fine. They’re moving him, but that means we have a starting point.
And it means Kane’s alive.
I allow my defenses to fall just for a second—to feel an agonizing pulse of relief that he’s still with us, and then I shut it back down again.
Slipping the phone into my pocket, I sling the bag over my shoulder and head toward the house. James is already outside, pacing in front of the garage, and he drops his hand from his hair when he sees me.
“You got the message?”
‘Where?’ I sign before tapping the code on the garage wall and waiting for it to open.
“Boston. Right outside of the city. He’s working on getting eyes everywhere, but he says he wants us to keep the plan as usual and grab Andrea.”
Andrea. I hadn’t asked his name before, and I still don’t care, but there is something to knowing that they’re a person just before I rip them to shreds. As I said, Vanessa unlocked the monster inside of me, and right now, I feel pulses of thrill, not shame.
I head toward the Jeep since there’s no way I’m hauling some body in one of the nice cars, and I toss the bag in the back. Before I can reach for the driver’s door, James has me by the throat, pinning me to the side of the car as his teeth dig into my lower lip.
I allow him to have this moment. Where I feel too little, he feels too much. The only reason we’re compatible is because he doesn’t revel in the guilt of what we do. He revels in the chase. And in the capture. And the kill.
Pulling away, he growls right up against my mouth, “We’re going to get him home.”