Page 44 of The Cute Psycho

"How is that fair for me?" I take another bite, keeping my eyes on him.

"Please..." The cry for help is barely audible, but I guess he finally realized the situation he finds himself in.

"I didn't hear you." I put one hand to my ear, waiting for him to repeat himself.

"I can't tell you," he says, almost resigned to his fate. "They'll kill my family," he continues, his eyes pleading with me.

Well, this is one of those situations that I usually dread, because if someone's family is in danger, the chances of them talking are... slim. Not zero, though. It's just a matter of adjusting the torture accordingly so they break.

"I guess we'll talk in a few days, Mr. Petrovic." I stand up to leave, and I hear his sigh of relief. I guess he doesn't realize what those few days will entail.

A quick message to one of my men, Maxim, and he's already here.

"V sadu?" he asks, eyeing the prisoner.

Oh, Maxim, how well you know me.

"Indeed, in the garden," I reply, mischief twinkling in my eyes.

Maxim nods, going over to Mr. Petrovic and grabbing him by the chair. He easily lifts him in the air, and I follow behind as he takes him to the garden.

Like the entire level of this place, the garden is subterranean too. It's more of a greenhouse, if I'm being honest, but I've built it in such a way to emulate outside conditions.

We reach the garden and Maxim goes in the back, to a pair of suspenders. Maneuvering the chair around, he hitches the legs of the chair through the suspenders, ensuring the chair is about two feet off the ground.

"What... what's happening?" Mr. Petrovic keeps talking, his eyes bulging in his head.

"This is my attempt at convincing you to talk. We'll see if it works. In a few days." I give him a brilliant smile, after which Maxim promptly gags him again.

Then, he removes the bottom of the chair, so that Mr. Petrovic's ass is slowly molding through the hole.

Under the suspended chair, there are about five bamboo sprouts, all newly planted and ready to grow tall and beautiful. Mr. Petrovic is about to get up close and personal with a few of them, and very soon. If he's lucky, one might even penetrate him in the ass, and stimulate his prostate. A little pleasure amid all the pain.

Alas, I don't think he's that lucky.

Leaving the greenhouse, I check the time, knowing I have another matter to tend to.

Vanya is trailing behind me, her attitude much improved.

"We'll find her," she says confidently, jumping up and down in a dance of happiness.

How I wish I could share her outlook.

But it's been nine years since Katya was taken. Nine years that I failed her, and if she's still alive, she's likely lived through countless terrors.

Sometimes I have to ask myself if I'd rather find her alive but broken, or dead and at peace.

Assisi Lastra.

I let the name roll on my tongue as I remember the tiny girl with fiery eyes. It is my duty to test a theory when it arises, and she'd just handed me a challenge.

Meeting her had been... interesting. To say the least.

She'd certainly not been what I expected, given that she grew up in a convent. Hell, she hadn't even been on my radar until a short while back when Father Guerra had turned up dead at Sacre Coeur.

I pride myself on having eyes and ears in all places, but Agosti's sister had been a blind spot. Not that she'd been of any interest until Guerra ended up disemboweled in public. And so I'd decided to get a little more insight into that particular event.

She might be just a small player, but in the big scheme of things, it's the small players that decide the outcome of a game. In their insignificance, they are the best pawns, going about undetected, with people sparing them the least attention.

---