Page 130 of Bite Marks & Broken Hearts

“Nice work.” I studied our prisoner’s face. “Though I question your choice of venue.”

“Blame him.”

I circled Adrian slowly, my footsteps echoing in the confined space. “Let’s start simple. Why did you murder Alistair Greaves?”

Adrian’s jaw clenched, but he remained silent.

“We have CCTV footage of you fleeing the scene with your cambion friend.” I leaned closer, studying the defiance in his eyes. “The way Greaves was torn apart… That was personal. A personal attack againstme,that his family will suffer for.”

Nothing. Not even a flicker of emotion.

“Who ordered the hit?” I pressed my palm against the rough brick wall. “Someone must have given you the order. A fledgling like you wouldn’t take such a risk without backing.”

His shoulders tensed slightly.

“It was Marcus Vale, wasn’t it? Your beloved leader? That would make the most sense.” The minute widening of his eyes confirmed nothing. “Or perhaps the cambion known as Damien suggested it?”

Kit’s growl rumbled through the space as Adrian maintained his silence.

My patience snapped. I grabbed Adrian’s throat, fingers digging into cold flesh. “Listen carefully. Your silence won’t protect you. You’re already dead—the only question is how painful I make it.”

He spat in my face.

I wiped the spittle away with my sleeve, then drove my fist into his stomach. The impact rattled the ancient chain. “That was just a warm-up. I can do this all night.”

Adrian’s laugh was hoarse. “You’re pathetic, Black. Trying to play sheriff with your fabricated authority. Trying to force us to repress who we are. We know what you did to Eliza. How you slaughtered her, just because she dared to touch your human pet—”

I seized his right hand, snapping his index finger backward until it cracked. His scream echoed off the wooden beams. But then Adrian’s pained expression morphed into a smirk as the bones began knitting themselves back together.

Fucking vampire healing. Always so inconvenient when trying to make apoint.

“I can see you need something a bit more…” I reached for the blade at my hip. “Permanent.” The dagger glinted in the dim light as I brought it down, severing the finger at the knuckle.

This time, his scream held no trace of smugness.

Adrian’s blood poured onto the floorboards as the severed finger twitched, a macabre reminder of vampire biology’s persistence.

“Boss.” Rory pulled a lighter from his jeans, the flame dancing to life with a metallic click. “Allow me?”

I nodded, maintaining my grip on Adrian as Rory pressed the flame against the bleeding stump—the cauterisation would prevent any chance of the finger being reattached later, or regenerating. The sizzle of burning flesh mixed with Adrian’s renewed screams soon filled the tiny space.

“Well then. Shall we continue talking? Or am I moving on to the other nine fingers? Tell me why your clan is working with the cambion who calls himself Damien.”

Adrian’s laughter turned to whimpers as I bent back another finger. But he still managed to seethe, “You think pain will make me betray Marcus?”

“Everyone breaks eventually.” I studied his face, noting the fierce loyalty in his eyes despite the agony. “Though you seem particularly devoted to him.”

“He saved me.” The words carried a zealot’s conviction. “When everyone else abandoned me, Marcus gave me purpose. If you harm me further…” His lips curled into a bloody smile. “The consequences would be severe. I’m special to him.”

I stepped back, considering this new information. Marcus Vale was not known for forming attachments to his subordinates. But if Adrian really held such significance…

“You have no idea what Marcus would do if—”

“Actually,” I cut him off, turning to Rory. “You could be right. This might be a 410 situation.”

Rory’s face lit up with savage delight. “Oh, brilliant!”

Kit’s low growl suggested approval.

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