Bound By Blood: (The Betrayed Series Book 2) (13 page)

When he’s finished, the material falls away, pooling on the floor at Chee’s feet. Dark crimson lines dot the length of his chest, smearing in several spots along the way. Grimacing, Chee’s eyes remain fixed on the wall ahead, not wavering in the slightest. Looking over his shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eyes, Noah asks, “Hey, Chaos, wanna come and give his pants a go? You know how clumsy I can get when it comes to sharp objects. Remember the last time I cut the guys dick off.”

Brighton answers Noah with a dazzling smile. “Nah, that’s all right, Jester. I kinda like it when you miss. It’s funny watching them squirm.”

“All right. Here goes nothing. I think I’ll do it with my eyes closed,” Noah says.

Chee sucks in a shocked breath as chuckles sound around the room. Noah uses the knife to cut away his pants, grazing his thigh on multiple occasions. Chee grunts as Noah gets particularly close to his cock, the point of the spear tip grazing the end. His chest visibly rises and falls as he tries to frantically suck in a breath.

Sam’s thunderous laugh echoes throughout the room. “Will you stop fucking with the man and cut his pants off so we can get to work already?”

Noah pushes out his lower lip in a semblance of a pout. “You ruin all my fun, Sandman.”

Flicking his wrist, he slices through the fabric and watches it fall open, no longer attached at the seams. “Lift,” Noah directs Chee. He doesn’t move. “I said lift.” Noah huffs, draws back, and lets loose a right hook that catches Chee across the cheek. His head snaps to the side with an audible oomph, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth and nose.

“Lift,” Noah directs once more.

Ploddingly, he raises himself up, and Noah grabs the ruined fabric before discarding it. “You’re such a good boy,” Noah says condescendingly while patting him on the head.

“Jester, don’t mock the prisoner. It’s bad form,” Brighton teases.

“You always kill my buzz, Chaos. Always.” With a fake scowl, Noah backs off, stalking toward the table. Shaking his head, Colonel Parker steps forward. “Alpha, grab the battery. Sandman, come and grab the picana. Let’s get this hooked up. Blade, you’ve got your Lile, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Cooper replies.

“Good. Come on over, son. We’re gonna be putting that to good use.”

“Oh, and our resident comedian can keep us all happy by reciting us a sonnet.”

“Oh, damn. Big Daddy P really does have jokes.”

Colonel Parker chuckles before responding, “What? Did you think my sense of humor died?”

“Nah, I just thought it was living on borrowed time,” Noah replies. The battery I’m holding crashes to the floor as I damn near choke on my tongue. Fucking Noah . . . always the wise guy. Grinning, I say, “Jester, why don’t you grab the bucket of water and douse our guest. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the effort.”

Turning around, I approach Sam, and we set up the picana, turning it on and adjusting the settings on the wand. Grunting sounds from the other side of the room. Casting a glance over my shoulder, I see Cooper etching shallow lines into Chee’s thighs. Straightening, Sam and I lift the picana and battery, carrying it over to the group.

As we approach, I can hear the Colonel questioning Chee. “Who is Cho Sang-Hyun working for?” the Colonel asks. Chee remains silent.

The Colonel nods to Cooper, who in turn takes the blunt tip of the knife and wedges it just underneath the epidermal layer of his thigh. Chee’s lips flatten into a tight line as Cooper continues to wedge the knife into his skin.

“Enough.” The Colonel’s demand halts Cooper’s progress.

“Who is Cho Sang-Hyun working for?” the Colonel asks again.

Nothing.

The Colonel presses on. “Very well, do you know where Kylee Parker is being held?”

He waits for several long moments, all the while Chee impassively stares at the wall. Colonel Parker marches up to Chee with quick strides. Crouching down, he places his thumb in the open gash along Chee’s thigh and applies pressure. “I asked you a question, and I want an answer.” Chee grunts as Colonel Parker presses harder into his leg.

Turning to face the Colonel, he spits as he says, “I will tell you nothing.”

Laughing, the Colonel replies, “Oh, I think we can change your mind.” Rising, he spins, facing in my direction as he says, “He’s all yours, son.”

Nodding, I grab the picana and stroll to Chee, cherishing the uncertainty lurking beneath the surface. Placing the equipment down, I grab the wand, adjust the settings, and carefully step up to Chee.

He meets my gaze as I ask, “Who is Cho Sang-Hyun working for?”

He defiantly raises his chin. My pulse races, thrumming with excitement as I give a sharp nod in Noah’s direction. He lifts a bucket of water, dousing Chee from head to toe. He yelps as shock from the coldness registers.

Stepping forward with the wand firmly grasped in my hand, I ask one final time. “This is your last warning. Who is Cho Sang-Hyun working for?”

Still defiantly silent, he smiles smugly in return. Raising the wand in my hand, I place it directly to his left nipple then release the charge. A surge of current is released through his body as he grits his teeth, writhing in the chair. His fingers curl into the ends of the chair, turning white as he retracts and flexes them over and over again. Throwing his head back, he thrashes violently for several long moments. Removing the wand, my voice is low and menacing as I ask, “Who is Sang-Hyun working for?”

His chest heaves as he sucks in an anguished breath. With a lift of his chin, he meets my eyes, disobedience clear in his gaze. Snarling, I lung forward, thrusting the wand into his abdomen. Ratcheting the current up a few notches, I watch as he thrashes violently, his head whipping back and forth as his teeth sink into his bottom lip. The pulsing in the wands stops as the flow of electrical current ceases.

Leaning over slightly, I say, “I’m beginning to think you’re a masochist, Chee. You like the pain. You know Chaos has a unique set of skills. He’s very good at giving a bamboo manicure. I’m sure you can imagine what he does with them. In fact, he’s preparing them for you now.” Pausing to take a breath, I survey Chee for several moments. He takes several pained breaths, his eyes never giving away any emotion. My blood fizzles, anger surging through me filling my veins and feeding my need to get answers.

“Who is Sang-Hyun working for?”

Tilting his head back, a devious smile plays at the corner of Chee’s mouth. Looking as if he’s going to speak, I take a step closer. Opening his mouth, he spits blood in my face. A red haze fills my vision, clouding my senses. My nostrils flare wide as I bare my teeth and lunge forward. Cranking the dial up full force, I plunge the wand into his balls, releasing a severe amount of electrical current.

Chee’s mouth falls open, screeching, pain etched in every line of his face, his body tenses, flailing in the chair. Time suspends as I watch him twitching uncontrollably until firm hands seize my bicep. Glancing over my shoulder, a brilliant pair of piercing blue eyes filled with emotion clash with mine. The room is silent as we communicate without so much as a word. Even the air seems to have stopped moving. In that short time span, his eyes have expressed his barely controlled rage, hurt, and his deepest fears. Despite it all, he’s able to keep his inner animal leashed.

Me, on the other hand . . . now that’s a completely different story.

He squeezes my bicep gently before saying, “Son, we aren’t going to get any answers if you electrocute him through his nut sack.”

Cutting the charge on the wand, I snap my head around, watching as Chee slumps in the chair, panting for air. Fucker. With anger still surging through my system, I nod to Brighton, who moves forward, bringing the tools of his trade with him. Chee tenses. Shaking his head back and forth, his eyes glaze over as he mumbles incoherently. Lifting my hand toward Brighton, I say, “Wait.”

Closing the distance, I grasp his chin so that we’re eye to eye. “I’m only going to ask you this one more time. After this, all bets are off. Who is Sang-Hyun working for?”

Chee visibly swallows. “I-I don’t know.”

Tightening my grip on his chin, I squeeze with brutal force. He grunts in return. “Not good enough.” The menacing baritone in my voice causes his eyes to widen. Thrusting away from him, I stiffly nod to Brighton, who resumes his task.

Kneeling before Chee, he lays out several bamboo shoots with the ends filed to sharp points on the floor by his side before prying Chee’s hand from the armrest. Struggling, Chee fights, screaming, “I don’t know who he’s fucking working for!”

“See, I think you’re holding out on me, Chee. I think you do know something,” I say, sounding bored.

Brighton looks over his shoulder to me for confirmation. Nodding my acknowledgment, he precedes. Retrieving a bamboo shoot from the floor, he firmly grasps Chee’s index finger. Getting a second wind, he begins writhing and twisting in the chair.

“Sandman, Blade, make sure he doesn’t move,” I order.

With Sam and Cooper holding Chee securely, Brighton resumes his post. Gradually, he presses the shoot between Chee’s nail and the bed of his finger. Agonizing sounds cascade from Chee as Brighton leisurely thrusts the bamboo under his nail. With a final push, the shoot is firmly embedded into his index finger. By the time Brighton gets to Chee’s ring finger, he’s a panting mess. Blood drips from his fingers, pooling on the floor.

The color steadily drains from his face, leaving him looking ashen and gray. Brighton presses the shoot to his ring finger and Chee half-pants, half-screams, “Wait! Wait!”

Brighton glimpses at me over his shoulder. Raising my hand, he stops, pulling away for a moment. The Colonel and I both step forward, moving closer to Chee at the same time.

“You better not be wasting my time, Chee. My patience is wearing thin. The next step is going to be me stringing you up from the ceiling and letting Blade loose on you.”

Cooper excitedly exclaims from behind him. “Hell yeah, it’s about damn time!”

“So, if I were you, I’d make sure to give me the information I want. You know who I’m looking for. Tell me where she is and how I can find her. I want to know who Sang-Hyun is working for. I know he’s behind this.”

Chee’s pained expression meets mine. His voice is full of anguish as he replies, “I do not know who Sang-Hyun works for.” He pauses, taking a breath. Brighton strains, reaching forward.

“Wait,” I direct. He freezes, pulling back, his body rigid.

Chee audibly swallows. “This girl, I have heard rumors of her—”

“Where is she!” I yell.

The already colorless expression on his face drains further, leaving him looking pallid and sallow. “I do not know. It’s not information that was shared with me. Again, it was only a rumor,” he rushes to say.

“What good are you, then? You’re giving me nothing I can use,” I growl, taking a menacing step forward.

“I-I can tell you where Sang-Hyun will be in five days’ time. He has a meeting with several business associates. T-That and you have a leak within your organization. But I don’t know who it is. I only know he talks to them.”

Bright light cracks the darkness within, a sliver of hope growing inside of me. The mere fact that we could potentially be one step closer to finding my Goddess is invigorating. My stomach drops, twisting and turning as if I’d just taken a nosedive in an F-15. His words sink in, perforating the fog that had taken up residence in my mind.

A leak. We have a fucking leak? On our end?

Lightning spreads like fire through my body, fueling my desire to find the son of a bitch who would betray our country and endanger my Goddess.

Barely able to contain my rage, I inquire, “And just where might that be?”

Without missing a beat, he responds, “Madame Lin’s.”

Tension is rampant, a living breathing thing raging wildly as fury locks down my muscles. My jaw tightens almost painfully as I berate myself. Why the fuck didn’t I think of that? She said something wasn’t right. She didn’t feel comfortable there. My gaze darts around to my team, and I see the same emotion roiling around in my gut reflecting in their eyes. Displaying a calmness I don’t feel, I stand a little straighter and bark out, “Very well, gentlemen, you know what to do. Finish up here and meet me when you’re done.” Pivoting, I come face to face with the Colonel, who nods and begins following me out of the room.

As we exit to start planning our strategy, I can’t help but feel that sliver of hope, the eagerness and anticipation coursing through me. Yet as the tiny seed of hope is planted, doubt grasps me, spreading like wildfire. Somewhere in the back of my mind, that tiny voice echoes, asking: What if we’re too late?