Noah sighs again, but a large smile slowly spreads over his face. “I’d say I'm sad about this, but I’m really not.” He looks at me. “Stay here.”
He walks out of the room, leaving the door open, and a few minutes he later comes back with arms full of things: knives, blades, a saw, pliers, and a hammer. My blood runs cold at the sight. Holy shit.
Laying them out on the table, he picks up a wicked-looking blade, glancing to me. “You sure about this? Because I’m not going to try to be a good influence and tell you that you don’t want to be here. I think you’ve been through enough shit that you can decide for yourself.”
I nod, not feeling any nerves but instead being intrigued and a new kind of energy runs through my body. This is intense, but this is what I came here to witness.
Not even five minutes later, Daniel is a sobbing mess and ready to spill his guts.Notliterally—Noah seems to have barely done anything. Just making thin slices all over his arms and face, just enough to trickle with blood.
“I promise I barely told her anything! I didn’t want to keep doing it for them!” he cries.
My shoulders tense up ather. Stepping forward again, I can’t help but ask, “Who?”
“Tammy Wilson. She knew my parents. They worked with her on some secret project. When I was graduating high school, I just wanted to work on bikes—and they knew that was my passion. So they asked me to come join your club and report back to Tammy with everything I was told or saw, and she would pay me.”
“Did you tell her that Harley is at the club now?” Noah demands, toying with the knife he still holds, now covered in blood.
“No. I swear I didn’t.” He shakes his head rapidly as he looks at Noah. “I promise I didn’t. I didn’t even go back there when I left the club. I just left. This isn’t what I wanted—what we wanted.”
“We?” I question, cocking my head as I stare him down.
Daniel shakes his head. “My girlfriend. We just want away from all of this. I thought I was done last year after the…” He shakes his head and clamps his lips shut.
“After what?” Noah seethes, but Daniel just shakes his head again. Noah grabs some pliers and walks up to Daniel, yanking his hand up. “Want to try that again? I’m not in the mood for games.”
“It’s nothing!” he screams right as Noah rips off his fingernails one right after the next.
I watch, intrigued by everything Noah does. The blood, the gore. Stepping up next to him, I hold my hand out. “I want to try,” I say.
Noah raises a brow at me. “Harley…”
“Don’tHarleyme. Give it to me,” I snap.
This is what I wanted. I wanted to hurt the people who hurt me. Who hurt my mom.
How can I ever do that if I can’t handle this? Watching Noah carry out this torture doesn’t bother me. Especially knowing that Daniel was helping Tammy. But now, I need to know that I can do it, too.
Noah sets the pliers in my open palm and grabs Daniel’s other hand. He sobs and begs me not to do this, but I focus on the task at hand and grip his finger before ripping his nail off and watching blood pour out as Daniel screams.
“That grin is wicked and slightly terrifying, Princess. I love it,” Noah remarks with a grin that I assume matches my own.
Dropping the smile and glaring down at Daniel, I ask, “Ready to tell us yet?”
“After Harley got away last year!” he blubbers. “I thought I would be done. They wouldn’t need me anymore.”
He peers up at Noah, his eyes pained as he talks low.
“I’m sorry. I tried to make sure that the damage wasn’t going to be too bad, but they wanted to kill you. I promise I did what I could so you weren’t hurt too badly.” He drops his eyes to the ground, his shoulders sagging in defeat.
‘“Noah?” I prompt, staring at him as he clenches his fists.
“My accident? When I got hit by the truck the day we were looking for Harley? You’re telling me that was fucking intentional? You set me up?” With every word he speaks his voice drops deeper, his eyes blazing with anger as he clenches his jaw tight.
Daniel doesn’t bother looking up; he just nods. I, meanwhile, have no idea what they’re talking about. Noah got hurt looking for me?
Noah spins around and walks back to the table along the far wall. He picks up all of his tools and strides out of the room, putting them away. Then he comes back and gestures for me to leave the room Daniel is in. When I step out, he closes it up and locks it, then goes to the sink in the corner and washes his hands and arms.
“That was enough for tonight. I need to get you back anyway.” His voice is softer now than when we were interrogating, but there is still a sharp edge to it.