Chapter 23

Hadina

The screams of Derick Hernandez was like a symphony playing in Hadina’s ears. She never got tired of hearing the tortured screams of the scum they captured. Especially when they belonged to someone who had hurt her tentadora .

“Tell us where Demi is, eres una vasca .”

Hadina’s knife plunged into the man’s gut, pushing through the resistance of layers of skin until she couldn’t force the blade further.

“I already fucking told you; I’m not a rat! I’m not going to tell you anything, pinche puta! ”

Adrian chuckled from beside Hadina, his tattooed arms exposed and crossed over his chest. “That’s a decision you should really reconsider, buddy.”

“ Chingas tu madre! "

“Suit yourself,” Hadina said with a shrug, before twisting her knife. “You’re not needed while you’re alive.”

The thing about fear was that it wasn’t escapable, not for anyone. Talking a big game or acting fearless didn’t mean that terror wouldn’t reach your heart at some point. Hadina had seen it happy to so many people, and she was watching it happen to Derick Hernandez.

His eyes widened slowly, realization setting in. Hadina didn’t much care whether he was scared or not; she'd given him an opportunity to talk and he’d refused. What happened next was solely on him.

Hadina pulled her knife free, holding it up in front of Hernandez, before she swung it down on his hand. It wasn’t the first time she’d done it, so she knew the amount of force needed to do what she wanted. A smile crept on her face as two of his fingers on his right hand severed, making Hernandez shriek in agony.

She sidestepped the blood pooling from his hand, nodding to Harris who grabbed a hammer from their tool table beside them.

“Just fucking kill me already!” he screamed.

“That would be too good for you, cabrón .” Smashing the hammer down, Adrian connected it to Hernandez’s kneecap. The sound of bones breaking was unmistakable.

“You know, Derick, I am an artist much like my hermanita , Piper,” Hadina said. She squatted in front of Hernandez, making sure they were at eye level so he could see the seriousness and darkness in her gaze. “But unlike her, my tool of trade is death. And I am about to paint my masterpiece.”

Their back-and-forth method of torture went on for hours until Derick Hernandez was a bruised, bloody, and broken mess. Both Hadina and Adrian Harris were covered in blood splatter, their hands covered and sore.

Hadina wiped her hands on a clean rag, watching as the deep red smeared across her skin. Sometimes she thought that her hands were permanently red, her skin stained and tainted with the amount of blood she’d spilled.

“I’ll give you one last chance,” Hadina said, throwing the now saturated rag onto the table. She looked at her handiwork on Hernandez’s chest: four letters carved into his skin to show Demi Treyva exactly who had done it to him.

ADIS .

“Tell us where your bitch boss is hiding out.”

Hernandez groaned, gurgling on his own blood as he opened his mouth. His eyes were practically swollen shut, his lips triple the size and split open in numerous places. Still, the bastard found enough strength to spit at her.

“Go fuck yourself.” The words were garbled but Hadina had heard them enough times to know what he was saying.

Hot, red anger flashed behind her eyes. She looked down at her expensive booties, seeing the glob of saliva and blood resting on the toes. Hernandez was lucky he was going to die anyway, because she’d have made him pay for that act alone.

“I have my woman for that. Pity for you that you’ll never get to experience that again."

Reaching into her boot, she pulled free the dagger she’d kept hidden. She flipped it over in her hands, reading the inscription. Sé a la luz . The dagger that had started so much drama in her life, but had also allowed her to be honest with Peyton. Now she would get to use it to exact revenge for the love of her life.

Moving to stand behind Hernandez, Hadina pressed the blade to the man’s throat. She pulled her arm back, curving it around and applying force, feeling the blood pour from the wound.

Hadina stood, waiting patiently for him to die. While she waited, Harris went into the little office behind them, dragging Eddie Poplar out by the hair. They’d tied him to a chair in front of half a dozen monitors, all pointing at different angles of the warehouse. One of the team had stood behind him, forcing him to look ahead and see every single thing that happened to Derick Hernandez. He needed to understand that if that could happen to someone way above him, far worse would happen to him if he didn't comply.

“Thank you for joining us, Mr Poplar. Did you enjoy the show?”

Poplar hung his head low, his shoulders shaking in silent, racking sobs. Adrian grabbed him from beneath the chin, forcing his head up to look at Hadina.

“You’ve seen what we can do. What we will do. You, Eddie, are worthless compared to your comrade. So, I’m sure you can imagine what we’ll do to you if you don’t do what we ask. Correct?”

He nodded, a slight movement against Harris’ tight grip. “I u-unders-s-s-tand.”

“I really hope that’s true. Because what happens next determines your future.”

Clasping her hands behind her back, Hadina began to pace. “We’re going to give you a car and the body of your deceased friend here.” She nodded to where Hernandez was slumped over in the chair, his blood a pool beneath him. “And you’re going to take him directly to Demi Treyva.”

“But I don’t know where she is!”

Hadina rolled her eyes. “She’ll find you, pendejo . You think she doesn’t know that her entire team has been wiped out? The second she realizes that you’re the only one left alive, she’ll want to meet you to question you.”

“Just kill me! She’s going to do it anyway,” he sobbed.

Hadina slapped him across the face, hard enough to see the welt forming on his cheek. “You don’t get to make requests or tell me what to do. You’re right; she will kill you. But if we kill you first, we don’t get her . And then all of this will have been for nothing. I will get Demi Treyva and if you fuck this up for me, not even death will prevent me from destroying you. I’ll make sure that there won’t be any sort of afterlife for you. Are we clear?”

Poplar nodded again, his lips pressed in a firm line.

“What are you going to do to her?” he asked sheepishly.

“I’m going to make her feel so empty and worthless that she’ll be begging for forgiveness. For mine, for Peyton’s, and most importantly, God’s. Her maker may forgive her, but that’s not up to me. I’m just the one who’ll be arranging their meeting.”