Page 55 of Felix

Aurora Henry

The second time I wake, the cold metal gurney digs into my face. It’s the same goddamn one they used before. I’m tied up tight, face down, and exposed like a piece of meat on a slab.

“Good morning, sunshine,” a gruff voice growls. One of the masked men appears in my line of sight, his twisted smile obscured by the shadows. “I love the artwork you covered your scars with. I love it so fucking much, I’m gonna cut some off.”

“Fuck you,” I spit out, trying to sound braver than I feel. But deep down, I know I can’t escape this nightmare.

“Feisty.” He chuckles, relishing in my defiance. The bastard takes a sharp knife from his belt. My heart races, pounding against the unyielding metal pressing into my chest.

“Please,” I beg, pain and desperation seeping into my voice. “Don’t do this.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, no trace of remorse in his tone. “This is gonna hurt.”

The blade pierces my flesh, slicing into the tattoos that cover my back. Pain explodes through my body, forcing a scream from my lips. It feels like he’s ripping my soul apart, tearing away the very essence of who I am.

“Fuck!” I yell, tears streaming down my face. “Fucking stop!”

“Shh,” he coos, mocking me. “You don’t want your precious Felix to hear you suffer, do you?”

Felix. The thought of him gives me a flicker of hope. He won’t let them break me. He will burn the city down to find me.

“Go to hell!” I scream through clenched teeth, refusing to give them the satisfaction of breaking me completely.

“Been there, done that, got the T-shirt.” The masked man laughs, his laughter echoing in my ears as the pain intensifies. I can feel my consciousness slipping away, but I cling to it, unwilling to let go.

“Is that all you got?” I taunt, my voice shaking. “You’ll have to do better than that if you wanna break me.”

“Brave words,” he sneers out, pressing the knife deeper into my back, skinning my flesh with agonizing precision. The pain is too much. It swallows me whole, and once again, darkness claims me.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Felix Greyson

Blood. It’s everywhere—on my hands, clothes, and staining the floor beneath the latest corpse. Four fucking days, and we still can’t find Aurora.

“Got anything?” Matteo asks, standing over another body. He doesn’t stop me. He knows how important this is.

“Nothing,” I growl, frustration clawing at my insides. “These fuckers don’t know shit.”

“Keep looking. Someone’s bound to talk,” he says, unfazed by the carnage around us.

I grab the nearest man by his collar, my grip tightening like a vice. “You! Tell me where the Costa brothers are!” I snarl, my face inches from his.

“Fuck you!” he spits back. Big mistake.

With a fierce and calculated movement, I slam him into the rough brick wall, my fingers digging into his throat like sharp talons. His eyes widen in terror as he struggles to gasp for precious air. “Wrong answer,” I hiss through gritted teeth, my patience wearing thin. Every muscle in my body istense and ready to strike. I squeeze my hand around his fragile neck, feeling the bones crunching beneath my grip. In a desperate attempt to save himself, the man’s hands claw at mine, but it only fuels my rage. With a primal scream, I pull harder, determined to rip out his throat with my bare hands. As he chokes and sputters, his lifeless body slumps against the wall, leaving me standing there holding his corpse.

Day six,and I’m fucking exhausted. My knuckles are bruised from beating the shit out of every lowlife in this godforsaken city. But Matteo is right—we’re getting closer.

“Hey!” Spike yells as he bursts into our makeshift office, his face flushed with excitement. “We got somethin’, Felix!”

“Spit it out,” I demand, adrenaline coursing through me.

“Got a call from one of our guys,” Spike recounts, breathless. “Says there’s this junkie who’s been approached by some guy with a snake tattoo on his arm. Wants bags of fluid, local anaesthetic, antibiotics, burn cream… the works.”

“Sounds like the Costa brothers,” Matteo murmurs.

“Where is he?” I ask my voice tense, fists clenching.

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