I pressed the sandpaper down his forearm roughly and pulled it down. It took a moment for his brain to interpret the pain signal because he didn’t react much until I got to his wrist, leaving a bloody trail down his arm.
He screamed then, and I smiled, moving over the same skin again and again and, fuck, over again.
The sadistic part of me reveled in his screams.
He was fucking lucky I left the arm that was missing his hand from when Damien cut it off after he touched Catalina. Or maybe, unlucky. We’d decided to let that wound heal. Didn’t want the fucker to bleed out and die on us.
“P-please. Wait. I have something you want. Just fucking stop.”
My movements halted, and I looked at him.
His screams turned into small whimpering noises as he tried to compose himself.
“What do you fucking have that I could possibly want?” I asked calmly.
“Information,” he stuttered.
I waited.
He took in a large gulp of air, and had he not been chained to the wall, I imagined he would have fallen on the floor.
“A-about the woman you’re l-looking for.”
I didn’t think before I reacted. I wrapped my hand around his neck and squeezed. “What?”
He made a choking noise, his face turning red. I lessened my grip a little.
“You’re—you’re Mikhail Volkov, aren’t you? I’ve heard about you. About the brothel.” He shook his head and gasped for breath when I tightened my grip.
“Be careful with your next words,” I said quietly. I knew he heard me. He nodded.
I let him go, and he took a deep breath. “I hear things. It’s part of my job to know about what’s going on around here. And I know you’re looking for a woman. I can help you find her. I know someone with information about her whereabouts.”
“Who?”
“Promise you’ll let me go.”
I laughed. “You’re not getting out of here, and you know that. Either stop wasting my time and tell me now, or I will go back to having my fun. You have plenty of skin for me to explore.”
“Please,” he begged. “If I’m not getting out of this, then just kill me. Just kill me.”
I came up to him and grabbed his head. “Name?”
“Ricardo Ricci,” he gasped. My eyes narrowed on him, trying to determine if he was telling the truth. Ricardo Ricci was the Bianchi Famiglia’s enforcer. Why the fuck would he know anything?
I let him go and walked out of there. It had been nearly two decades since I lost her.
I’d long since lost hope of ever seeing her again. A part of me wished she was dead.
Because death was a better alternative to anything I had imagined had happened to her.
I blindly moved around the house.
I didn’t even know what I was doing, but walking away didn’t seem plausible.
I came into the dark room. I doubt Nikolay was with her.
It was still too early for him to be in bed, but she was injured. Even at dinnertime, I had seen the bags under her eyes.