Page 61 of The Thief
“Rory?” I repeated, my blade slicing deeper as he hissed and bared his teeth, trying to angle his head away from me. “And what fucking number were you?”
He didn’t answer right away, so I moved my knife, placing the tip right over his fucking heart, inching forward slightly, putting on enough pressure to make him talk.
“I... I was... I was Number Four.” He spluttered over his words, but defiance still burned in his eyes.
I stepped to my right and stood in front of the other one who was snarling, his nostrils flared as he breathed deeply, like he was ready to fight me with all he had. I lifted my knife and pointed at him.
“So, you must be Anton. Number fucking Five.”
His torso was dripping with sweat, mixed with blood from the random cuts the others had already made. And I noticed he had a tattoo that said ‘Respect’ on the left side of his chest. I gave an ironic laugh, smirking as I put my knife against it.
“Funny.” I glared at him as I pushed the knife into his skin. “I don’t remember you showing any respect when you threatened those innocent people. Or when you stood by and watched Leon fucking Quaid put a bullet in a man’s head.” I moved closer, twisting my knife, speaking in a quieter, more measured tone. “And definitely not when you had your gun pointed at my head. Do you remember that?” I asked, and he nodded. “Do you thinkyou deserve this tattoo?”
I waited for him to respond but he didn’t.
“I don’t think you do,” I answered for him. “I think it’s a fucking joke. I think you’re a fucking joke. So, let’s do something about it, yeah? We can’t send your body back to your mother covered in lies like this, can we?”
His eyes went wide as I mentioned his mother, but when I sliced my blade into him, cutting around the words on his skin, he screamed and screwed his eyes shut, his body shaking and convulsing as he tried but failed to escape my knife.
He howled and cursed, spitting as I sliced all the way around then carved that tattoo right off his body. I dropped his vile, bloody skin to the dirty floor, leaving exposed muscle shining in its place on his heaving chest. And then, I smiled.
“Much better.”
Number Five hung from his chains, his head slumped forward as he hissed, breathing erratically, trying not to pass out from the pain. But he’d be feeling a lot worse before this night was through. He still had a long way to go before we were finished.
“Now we have that sorted, let’s get down to business,” I stated, sounding professional as I held my bloody knife and admired my skin sculpting techniques. “We need names and addresses. Give us that and this will be over a lot quicker for you.”
“I don’t know any fucking names and addresses,” Anton spat, his body shivering from the effects of the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
“Yes, you fucking do,” I snapped. “Do I need to carve more pieces off you to get them? Because I will.” I placed my knifeon his stomach. “I’ll carve you up until there’s nothing fucking left.”
“I have a better idea,” Adam said, coming to stand beside me. “I say we carve the other one up.” He pointed to Rory. “And then feed the parts to him.” He nodded to Anton. “If he won’t talk, maybe the other one will.” He moved to stand in front of Rory. “If we cut off his dick and feed it to his brother, maybe that’ll give him the incentive to talk?”
Both men started to thrash in their chains.
“We can’t give you what we don’t know,” Rory snarled.
“But that’s where you’re wrong,” Adam replied. “Because you do know. You know exactly who you were working with on that job. And we get it, you don’t want to be a rat. But the rules have changed. And you will speak, eventually. They all do. It’s just a question of how much you’re gonna take before you give it up.”
Anton leered back at Adam then spat blood on the floor. “You’re gonna fucking pay for this. You’ll all fucking pay. Do you really think you’re gonna get away with this?”
Adam grinned and moved closer to him. “We already have.” Then he nodded to Will, who came to stand behind Rory and started to pull his jeans down.
When his cock was exposed, Adam took his knife and pressed the blade against the base, and Rory squealed like a fucking pig when the knife drew blood.
“No! Fuck... please. Don’t.” Rory couldn’t get his words out, and his head was shaking, his eyes desperate as he pleaded with Adam, me, anyone that’d listen.
“I don’t know anything!” Anton hollered, but Adam wasn’t listening or just didn’t give a fuck. Probably the latter.
He sliced the knife, causing blood to run down Rory’s legs, and his shakes turned to violent convulsions as his begging became the ramblings of a crazy man. A man with everything to lose.
“For fuck’s sake, just stop!” Anton roared, begging for his brother, but Adam just chuckled like a demon possessed.
“We’ll stop when we’re given reason to,” he stated in that cool, calm tone of his.
A little more pressure, more blood, and blood curdling screams that echoed off the walls... and then, Anton broke.
“Okay, stop! I’ll talk. Just fucking stop. Leave him alone.”
