Page 188 of Beautifully Ruined
He touched his daughter, the piece of shit.
That’s why she went after him. It wasn’t kinks of dressing up in women’s clothes or being led around in leather with a tail out his ass. He likes blood play, yes, but the kind of blood play is hurting the girls when he’s done with them.
He didn’t hurt his daughter he told us as he cried, and I punched him in the stomach for that.
“All your records, all the things you did are on tape. Thomas had them, which means I have them,” I say. “All the sick, vile things.”
“Did you know,” Enzo says, “that he kept records, so he’d know what to get for each member of the special men’s club? And secret video recordings of what you all did in those private rooms as potential blackmail fodder if he needed it?”
“It’s already out there that you’re involved in trafficking. Whispers. You can’t keep things like that at bay. And your wife knows. Now.” I can’t stand looking at him.
If Enzo and I didn’t have an end in mind for him, he’d be beaten and tortured to within an inch of his life.
But this is going to help nail the case and crack everything wide open. Bring down all the men involved. All of them.
So, this is going to be bigger than what Zayne can deal with, and I wouldn’t put The Syndicate at risk like that. Wouldn’t put him at risk.
Fuck, I wouldn’t have Enzo here if he hadn’t insisted. Mind you, I’d do the same.
I approach Joseph slowly, and he shrinks back against the wall.
“Please,” he says, whimpering, “don’t kill me. I’ll get help, I promise. I never meant to hurt Gianna. I love her.”
I snort as Enzo makes a growling noise. “Too much, you pervert. You touch your kid, then throw her to the wolves? Bullshit, you don’t give a fuck about anyone but yourself.”
I crouch down in front of him, flicking open the bloody knife.
“Don’t,” he squeals.
“Scum like you? Doesn’t deserve to live. But I’ll tell you what. We’ll give you a choice. Die slow and painful here, or…write out a confession. And make it good. I want everything. Names. Addresses. Whoever and whatever you’ve dealt with to get the girls, the things the powerful and rich people you know are into and how we can take them down.”
Enzo comes up with the pad and a new pen, “But the people, the names, the places we can find them. The crimes. We need those first, then the confession.”
I’m about to argue, but Enzo wants them separate, and I’m clocking to why.
The list stays with us. The confession goes to the media along with some choice filmic evidence, not anything to screw up a case, just something to solidify his true nature.
So, I wait until we get the list.
He thinks he’ll live.
He’s not going to.
I never finished his options. Death slow and painful, or death fast by his own hand.
When he hands over the list, I look it over. It matches stuff we found, names on Thomas’s list. But there are more, and as he starts his confession, Enzo and I tell him to include a couple of people on the list. Enough to get some balls rolling.
Confession done, he looks at us. “My life’s over now. My career, marriage gone. Are you going to let me go? I’ll turn myself in. I’ll?—”
I backhand him. “Shut your mouth.”
Enzo unchains him but doesn’t uncuff his hands. Instead, we head out of the nondescript Syndicate place, and we drive to his offices in DUMBO. In the underground parking lot, we pull up and get out.
Once we reach his offices, I pull out the gun as Enzo releases him.
“I have security cameras?—”
“Disabled.” I can barely look at the prick, but I make myself. “Did it earlier so you don’t have to worry about your death being on tape.”
