Wires are attached to Max’s chest, leading to a machine designed specifically
to restart a heart the second it stops. I built it when I first started in this business, though it’s rarely used anymore. In the beginning, my rage towards sex traffickers went unchecked. But over the years, I found the faster they die, the more I can kill.
I’ve killed Max via asphyxiation twice now. The second his heart stops
beating, my machine brings him back to life via electricity, where I proceed to torture him slowly, and then kill him again. Rinse, repeat.
I hadn't even started asking questions yet, too angry to speak.
He’s gone mad now. So close to death just to awake to my smiling face, over
and over. Yet, I still feel nothing.
“Rick Boreman is who you transferred the money to. Who was his partner?”
“R-Rio,” he answers. “Dunno his last name.”
His speech is choppy from the toll his body has endured.
“How do you know them?”
“I don’t re… real-ly. C-Connor and Rick were friends. I knew Rick had
connections, so I got his number from Connor’s old phone.”
“And how did you know what Rick’s involved in?”
“Connor talked about the Tala-la-verras pos-ssibly sticking their hands in the
trade, and he men-mentioned he had connections to do so through Rick. They never ended up getting in-involved, so nothing more was ever said about Rick than… than that.”
I cock a brow. The Talaverras getting involved in human trafficking would’ve
been a fucking disaster. Especially with Archie involved and his playboy status
—he would’ve condemned a lot of girls to that fate. Suppose I did more good than I initially thought by killing them all.
“Who do Rio and Rick work for?”
Max shakes his head, his mouth curling into a smile. “Rick doesn’t work for
nobody. H-he’s just friends with the right people. I knew where y-your girlfriend
lived, and he knew how to get her in the right hands. It was mutually ben-beneficial.”
He looks like he’s fading, so I roughly slap his cheeks a few times. He grunts
at me but keeps his eyes open.
“And Rio?”
Another grin. “Who else? The Soc—"
“Don’t be obtuse, Max,” I cut in, picking up a pair of scissors and dragging
the tip against the web of skin between his two fingers. When he doesn’t come
up with a new answer, I spread the scissors and snip the delicate flesh. He screams, but the sound isn’t quite anguished enough.
Not yet.
“I want the names. The people they directly report to, and who they took her
to.”
He works to swallow; his face pinched in pain as he struggles to answer.
“I-I don’t know, Z. I told you, I ha-hardly knew them! Only what C-Connor
told us about Rick, which wasn’t anything at all other than he was friends with a
trafficker. When I saw the ad, I-I asked for his help, and that was the end of it!”
“How did they know how to take her?”
He licks his lips, his eyes drifting again from exhaustion.
“I knew her place was sur-surrounded, so we drew her out. Luke knows
where Daya lives, so… so he paid her a visit. Broke in and tied her up and used
her phone to lu-lure Addie out. Rick and-and Rio waited outside of her driveway
and followed her.”
I still, going nearly blind with fury at the knowledge that Daya might’ve been
taken, too. No one fucks with my girl, and that includes her friends and family.
Addie’s been gone for seven days now, and in that time, all I’ve thought about
was getting to Max. It didn’t even cross my mind that Daya hadn’t reached out
yet, looking for her best friend.
If I’m being honest, I can hardly think straight with every organ in my body
seized by the constant agony with her being gone.
“Where is Daya?”
Max laughs, the sound wet and humorless. “Last I heard, bro, Luke still has
her. Reliving his-his favorite memory with her probably.”
Fuck. Looks like Max is going to have to wait to die for good. I need to go
murder his friend first and get Daya the fuck out of there.
“Hm.” I clip the skin between his pinky and ring finger. He clenches his teeth,
but it doesn’t prevent the scream from slipping through the cracks of his teeth.
“God fucking dammit!” he bursts, panting through the pain.
I’ll keep him alive long enough to get Daya. Then, I’ll come back and finish
off the job—permanently. I don't have any more time to waste on him.
“Who was the person you spoke to when you answered the ad?” I push.
“They were anonymous. You-you think they introduce themselves when they
answer the phone?” he snaps. “I told them I knew where she was and who was
helping me. They told me they’d transfer the money when Addie was in their possession. Th-that’s it!”
I grab his other hand and clip the skin between his pointer and middle finger,
purely because I don’t appreciate his attitude.
“Do you know how many men laid in this very chair before you?” I ask
casually, glancing at his shredded face.
“N-no,” he cries, dragging the note out in a sorrowful wail.
“Me neither,” I shrug. “Lost count. But what I do remember is that I broke every single one of them.”
Max squeezes his eyes shut when I lean forward, not brave enough to face his
tormentor. “But you’re the first one to have broken me first, Max. I can admit that. You broke me into tiny little pieces when you took Addie from me. Because of you, I’m no longer a man.”
I straighten my spine. “Do you know what that means for you? It means I have no humanity left in me. No empathy. No guilt. Nothing. I could do this all fucking day, and even when your body gives out, I’d just bring it back again.”
Tears spill from the corners of his eyes, but they have no effect on me.
“I’m s-sorry, man. It was an honest mistake,” he groans. “I only did it ‘cause
of my f-father.”
“You only got a girl kidnapped and sold into the skin trade, you mean? You
only condemned an innocent woman to torture, trauma, and rape because your daddy died?” My voice begins to crack by the end, and I clench my jaw, struggling to hold on to what little sanity I have left. I’m falling apart at the seams, tears building in my vision.