4. ~Caspian~

Screams echoed through the concrete halls as I spun the blowtorch in my hand and followed the sounds of Dante's meticulous work.

It was actually one of his talents and a skill he'd had to cultivate to walk in the down and dirty and extremely ruthless world that being the head of the Mancini Syndicate mandated.

Torture.

It was usually distasteful to me and something I tried to steer away from.

There was a difference between dealing out brutality and punishment in a combat scenario to inflicting extreme suffering upon a bound individual.

But in certain circumstances it proved necessary.

Just like now.

Especiallynow.

Nothing was off the table. No lines were too fucked-up to cross.

I'd do whatever it took to bring my boys back to me, to reunite our family.

Including breaking my code.

Just like I was about to do here and now.

I walked into the designated room where we were keeping our captive.

Ben Harvey.

The fool who was Elijah's second and was still remaining loyal to him in spite of his boss abandoning him and leaving him for dead.

It was more than loyalty in fact. It was akin to cult mentality, his twisted devotion toward that undeserving filth, a disturbing sickness.

Well, I didn't have time—or the patience currently—to undo years of that depth of indoctrination.

I stood against the open metal door of the bare concrete room in one of my warehouses that had been emptied out to prepare for the storage of new devices and technology from King-Tech. We were always updating and improving upon things, so this sort of thing happened on a semi-annual basis.

And at the moment, it was providing a quiet space free of interruptions to conduct this business before us.

Ben was bound to a metal chair bolted into the floor, a pool of his blood surrounding it. His fingers resting on the arms of the chair were broken and shuddering, even three of his knuckles crushed to pieces on account of a sledgehammer Dante had requested. His left kneecap had suffered the same fate.

Dante stood before him now, clad all in leather, including a pair of leather gloves outfitted with brass knuckles that had delivered scathing damage to the sides of his face and his ribs, the deep bruising prominent as he sat there with his shirt ripped open.

Ben bucked as Dante drew strategic, shallow cuts down his torso.

"I don't… I don't know!" Ben cried out hoarsely.

"Sure you do," Dante responded stoically, making another incision. "Your hard-on for your former boss is just getting in the way of the truth."

"He kept a lot to himself! You know that! Please!"

"Wrong answer."

He went to make another cut, but a whistle from me pulled him up short.

He'd been so immersed in what he was doing that he hadn't noticed me standing here.

He spun his knife in his hand and slid it into a sheath at the hip of his leather pants as he made his way over to me.

His eyes went wide as he took in the blowtorch in my hand and what I was holding in my other.

A jerry can of gas.

"I told you I'd handle this side of things."

"And your efforts, although impressive, haven't yielded any concrete results. A potential location he did give up proved to be bullshit. Caleb and Bastian weren't there and we discovered that hovel of a safehouse had been abandoned for months."

"It takes time to break a fanatic, Caspian."

"Oftentimes it's actually impossible."

He blew out a breath. "I respect that you are a hands-on leader, but this is different."

"Not to me. Not now."

He fisted his hand in my white tee and I looked to see Ben's blood now staining it. "That will be the least of it if you do this. The blood you'll have on your hands will never wash out."

"So be it," I ground out, removing his hand, then brushing past him.

I dropped the lighter fluid a few feet out from Ben, then spun the torch in my hand as I closed in.

His eyes shot wide and a full body shudder went through him as he took it in.

"There's the reaction I was expecting." I drew closer and he tried to move back, only to be stopped by his bound position and the confines of the chair itself. "Information reached me today, information that was extremely difficult to obtain." I fisted my hand in his sweat-drenched hair and tugged his head back, making him hiss. "Personal details concerning you, details that Bane worked hard to bury. The thing is, I always get to the truth in the end. One such personal detail was your absolute fear of fire."

"No. No, King."

"That's right. In fact, it's so acute that it caused your beloved boss a lot of grief with you refusing to be involved in any operations involving explosives, arson. You know, his specialty when delivering damage to an enemy at times when that infamous temper of his managed to get the best of him and covert measures fell to the wayside?"

"I don't know anything… I already told Mancini that." He slammed his body around in a burst of temper clearly fueled by absolute desperation. Good. Exactly where I wanted him. "So many fucking times! I don't know who Elijah's source was!"

"Because Elijah cut you out and liked to do certain things all on his own, yes?"

Hope flickered in his eyes that I understood. "Yeah. That's exactly it."

Fool.

"The thing is, you're so obsessed with him that I know you'd never allow him to really go it alone. You were a fly on the wall." I released his hair and wrapped my hand around his throat. "You knew everything."

He trembled, realizing he'd been caught out.

Smoke wafted toward me and I saw Dante in my peripheral vision, pacing back and forth in silent protest at my involvement and dragging hard on a cigarette.

The memory slammed into me before I could stop it.

He fired up a smoke, glaring at me for a moment, knowing I didn't like it in the house. Little bastard.

Caleb.

"Fuck, maybe I'm already having a nic-fit."

"You're fine." I locked my phone and looked out at Caleb, recognizing the signs with him all too well. "We both know this is just you getting antsy about what Skylar's going to tell us." I walked to him and slid my hands to his hips. "I know the idea of women being assaulted, especially in the way we know Jett is fond of, twists you up, but try to contain your reaction in front of her. We have enough with Bastian flying off the handle lately. An intense reaction from you won't help her either. You and I will talk about it later. I'll be there for you to let it all out. Okay, lovely?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah, I hear you."

He sank into me and brushed his lips over mine, then nuzzled my cheek in that sweet, loving way of his.

A growl escaped me.

"Last chance," I warned the waste of a life before me.

"Please."

"Wrong answer."

I grabbed the back of his head with one hand, forcing him absolutely still as I fired up the blowtorch with the other, then drew it over his left cheek.

He shrieked and struggled futilely as the white-hot flame singed his flesh, burning deeper with every moment, melting his face.

"Ah! Stop! Stop!"

I didn't.

I couldn't.

I heard Dante cursing.

I moved to the other cheek and Ben's shrieks became pitiful sobs. "God… I'll tell you. I'll fucking tell you! Please!"

I pulled the blowtorch back, watching him sweating and panting, his face—what was left of it—twisted in absolute agony.

He struggled to speak through it as he told me, "Don't know… the name. But… I… I saw him. Once. Seemed military."

"Military?"

"Yeah. And I heard him… when Elijah asked why he… why he was helping him… the guy said… he… said it was for his girl."

"Gonna need a name," Dante called over. "And you better fucking deliver, or he's gonna melt your eyeballs next."

I gritted my teeth at the clear disapproval in his tone, the seething sarcasm of his comment.

Ben went on, "Don't know. But I remember he told Elijah something… something kind of specific. About looking after his girl… then shielding her away… from barbarians. That last part… his exact words."

I stilled and took a staggering step back.

Jesus fucking Christ.

As I started to rapidly put the pieces together, Ben cut in, "I swear, King. It's true… everything I know. Does it… does it help?"

"More than you know."

Relief shone in his eyes.

What a pity.

I jerked his head back and hissed, "You knew all this time. All this time as my brothers were in Elijah's clutches. You know well what he's capable of but you remained silent, allowing them to endure that demented monster's depravities."

I released him roughly, then stalked to the gas can.

Opening it, I returned to him, ignoring his screams and protests, his pleas for his life, as I splashed it all over him.

"Caspian," Dante spoke, coming over.

I shoved him back and continued until I'd drenched the bastard, then I drew a trail a few feet away from him.

As Dante came at me again, clearly intent on forcibly stopping me, I tossed the container, then snatched his smoke from between his fingers.

In the next second, I tossed it into the gas trail.

The spark caught right away and I watched with rapt fascination as flames traveled along the floor rapidly toward their target.

Ben bucked and shrieked as they licked up his legs, then consumed him entirely, burning him alive in the hell he'd wrought.

"Jesus," I heard Dante utter a moment before a shot rang out.

It tore into Ben's skull, killing him instantly.

I spun toward Dante as he holstered his gun.

He moved to say something, but I cut him off, seething, "They came after my family. No one survives that. No one."

With that, I walked out, the scent of that motherfucker burning infusing my senses.