Page 83 of Sinister Promise

That was exactly what I was.

With a simple command, I had my men lower the wretch to the ground. His body landed with a wet thud and my men all grimaced as they hoisted him to his feet and dragged him toward a rickety card table set up in the dimly lit hangar for questioning.

I would've preferred to leave him hanging, but there was a good chance the weak fuck would have passed out on me. This needed to be over quickly, and waiting for him to wake up wasn't something I was willing to do.

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 histrembling 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.

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