Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
They slammed his head down onto the table as he gasped for breath. His face turned from red to a mottled shade of purple, a single string of saliva dripping down from his mouth onto the green felt.
I could've shown him mercy—given him a moment to catch his breath. But mercy was something he'd never shown his daughter.
I gripped his wrist in my fist and slammed his trembling hand onto the table, the knife hovering just above his fingers.
"How many years have you been destroying your daughter's life with this gambling bullshit?" My tone was almost casual. I didn't betray the rage that was coursing through me. I wanted him to be surprised at what was coming.
Richard looked like he needed some more excitement in his life.
Slowly, deliberately, I put the tip of the blade between his pinky and ring finger.
A clear warning. His eyes widened as he fought to pull back.
"It wasn't my fault. I never meant to involve her. I owed too much money," he cried as he tried in vain to jerk his hand back.
I didn't have the time or inclination to listen to his lies. Instead, I turned to Damien, who had a file in his hand, looking over Alina's finances.
I didn't need him to tell me what they said.
I already knew. Every line item, every betrayal. I had them memorized.
"How many years has she been paying off your debts?" I demanded.
"A few months," he choked out, and I removed the blade. Richard sighed, taking a moment of relief as he thought his lie worked.
I knew better.
Alina dropped out of college three years ago.
Still, my brothers and cousins didn't need to know how much I knew.
I looked at Damien, who shook his head.
The confirmation was all I needed.
I placed the tip of the knife in between Richard’s ring and pinky fingers again.
He tried to scream out, to tell me to stop. I didn't hesitate. The knife came down with one satisfying cut. Precise and clean through the bone. I severed the man's pinky finger, leaving it on the table in front of him.
A scream ripped through the warehouse, blood spurting onto the worn green tabletop.
He tried to sit up. Two of my men stepped forward, guns pulled. I waved them off as I placed a hand between Richard's shoulder blades, forcing him back down, making sure his severed finger was right in front of his face as I leaned in. I wanted the fucker to smell his own blood, to know the stench of his own rotting flesh.
Richard shook and screamed again. I waited, unbothered by the blood, or the ringing in my ears. It would stop when he died. My momentary discomfort was nothing compared to Alina's.
Finally, Richard took a breath, and I tried again.
"I'm only going to ask you one more time. If you lie to me again, I'll take more than just a finger. How many years?"
Richard sobbed, snot running down his face. "Three years! Three years! That's it. It was only for three years. I was going to…"
I stood up and took a step back, saying nothing as his words trailed off and he stared at his finger laying on the table. His face flushing an unnatural green.
Then his gaze shifted back to his hand, where the finger should have been. He screamed and cried, carrying on like a toddler who fell off his bike and thought the world was ending.
The pathetic display disgusted me.
Comparatively speaking, his daughter had lost far more than a pinky in the last twenty-four hours, and she didn't carry on like this.
My brave girl was far stronger than her father.
Damien tilted his head, feigning confusion. "Math was never my strong suit, but I think that means two additional fingers."
I nodded. "You'd be correct."
It should have been far, far more. But I needed more information before I could kill him, and he deserved the pain.
Alina's father stopped, looked up, his cheeks tearstained and his brows furrowed as he tried to understand what Damien meant.
Perfect. The confusion would make this hurt more.
I took the opportunity and lashed out with the knife.
The blade struck again, slicing off another finger. His ring finger. Then again, for his middle finger.
He screamed while I wiped the blood from the blade onto his shoulder. No reason to dirty my clothes if I didn't have to.
Richard howled in agony, his entire body convulsing from the pain. But we were far from done.
"Shut up," I ordered over the man's wails. Immediately, his cries silenced, but his body still shook. "We are only just getting started, so you might want to save your strength."
There was a lot of information I needed from Richard, and I had to act fast if I wanted to claim it before he lost too much blood and fainted or, worse, just up and died from a heart attack or a stroke or some shit.