Chapter 95

NINETY-FIVE

XERO

Now that Amethyst has said goodbye to her parent, it’s time to welcome mine to the final stage of his existence.

I park outside the safe house’s double doors and turn off the engine. At this time of the afternoon, the sun paints the gardens with vibrant bursts of color, but nothing is as enchanting as Amethyst.

She stretches in her seat and yawns. “Any update on Dr. Forster?”

I pull out my phone and check my messages. There’s a status report on the new prisoner and a link to the live camera feed to his interrogation room.

An unconscious red-haired man in his sixties slumps in a chair. He’s naked, with his genitals obscured by his hanging gut.

“Is that the psychiatrist?” I show her the screen.

Her face pinches. “A flabbier version of him, yeah. When can I see him?”

I navigate to another screen to review his records. “He’s still sedated, but he should be awake in three hours. Delta is in the cell next door. We could pay him a visit while we wait.”

“No,” she replies, her face paling. “Give me a few weeks. I’m not ready.”

My brow furrows. “Are you alright?”

She gives me an eager nod. “It’s been a long day. I’d rather get the Rapunzelita manuscript ready for Myra.”

“Do you want company?” I ask.

She leans in, pressing a soft kiss on my lips. “I’ll be okay on my own.”

As she draws away, I cup the back of her head and pull her closer to deepen the kiss. With a soft moan, she kisses back, her body melting against mine. I hate the moments when we’re apart, but my presence is needed for the first few days of Father’s captivity.

I pull away at the thought of that bastard, which lets Amethyst catch her breath. Pink tinges her cheeks and the corners of her mouth lift with a relaxed smile.

“Send Delta my regards,” she says, and opens the passenger-side door, filling the car with a burst of fragrant air.

She steps out, blowing me a kiss before walking down the gravel path toward our little cottage. Her hips sway, making my blood heat. I watch her, mesmerized, as she disappears around the corner. Then I make my way to the interrogation room.

Father hasn’t been a captive for twenty-four hours, yet he’s barely recognizable. Gone are his hair and beard, and the lower half of his face is still swollen from having every tooth extracted.

Despite being naked in a darkened cell with concrete walls, he sits in his interrogation chair like it’s a throne. Wires connect his body to a polygraph machine through a blood pressure cuff, fingertip sensors, a chest band, and a mass of electrodes.

Isabel sits at a table by the door, watching needles scratch data onto a strip of paper. I step inside, inhaling cool, damp air carrying a whiff of blood, and lock gazes with my sister.

“How is he?” I ask.

Her shrug tells me everything I need to know—Father is still being uncooperative.

His eyes remain closed in a semblance of deep meditation, yet the monitors attached to his body betray the spike in his vital signs. They go haywire, displaying enough erratic readings to suggest he’s on the verge of panic.

I snort. “You can’t hide from us, Delta.”

He opens his eyes, fixing me with a glower of defiant contempt. “What’s wrong, old man? You looked so at ease when I was the one attached to the chair.”

Father flares his nostrils but doesn’t speak. If he thinks he’s wearing us down with silence, he’s sorely mistaken. Every operative we liberated holds a deep-rooted grudge, and we have more volunteers eager to tend to Father than there are hours in the day.

He will break. The only question is when.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about our past. About your lessons. About how you taught me that pain builds character.”

A muscle in his temple flexes.

I close the distance, bring a cup of water to his mouth. A few drops fall onto his lap, making him finally open his eyes.

“Thirsty?” I ask with a smirk.

He gazes up at me, his eyes flickering with rage.

“Camila’s going to make a full recovery,” I say. “Your little charade with Dolly failed. No matter how many drugs you used to alter my perception, I will always recognize the woman I love.”

Father remains silent, his swollen mouth locked into a tight grimace. His eyes, however, burn with impotent malevolence.

I pull away the cup. “You taught me about power and control, but you never grasped compassion. Or even love. And now, it’s time for you to learn from me.”

Shaking his head, he releases a dry chuckle. “Obviously, I failed to teach you the fine art of interrogation.”

The corner of my lips lift into a smile. “Why waste time asking questions you won’t answer when I can have revenge?”

His Adam’s apple bobs. “Psychological tricks?”

“Don’t mistake me for a man who makes veiled threats.”

I walk to the table, pick up a needle, and dip it into the water. Once it’s wet, I slide it into a point on his hand, watching for the slight twitch that confirms it’s in the right spot.

The bastard doesn’t even flinch. Neither do his vitals.

Rage simmers in my veins, but I hide my fury beneath a calm fa?ade, dunking another and targeting a point on his lower leg, pressing it into the muscle. Each needle goes in with precision, tapping into the acupuncture pathways of pain and control.

With every insertion, his vital signs begin to fluctuate, accompanied by a faint twitching in his brow. His stoic fa?ade cracks, and his grimaces morph into a full-on wince. Sweat gleams on his brow, and he clenches his fists as I place them into points on his inner leg, forearm, and foot.

Isabel appears at my side, attaching small crocodile clips onto each needle.

“Electro-acupuncture?” Father asks, his voice incredulous.

“With a twist.” I motion for Isabel to return to the table and switch on the current.

The lights flicker as a surge of electricity floods through the wires. Father’s body goes rigid, his eyes widen, he tightens his jaw.

“Do you think this will break me?” he asks.

“Isabel.”

She turns up the dial, making Father grunt. His breath quickens, and the veins on his temples bulge. His fingers claw at the armrests.

“Feel that pain?” I ask. “It’s directed at your nervous system. The low-level electric currents can keep you in agony while maintaining your sensitivity to pain.”

“To what end?” he snarls.

“So you can taste the suffering you inflicted on others,” I say.

Turning back to Isabel, I indicate for her to raise the current again. A low growl reverberates in Father’s chest as his muscles tighten.

“You were always too emotional, Xero,” he says through clenched gums. “That’s the difference between you and me. Focusing on forgotten bygones instead of gathering intel.”

“That’s why you turned your back on your family as I slaughtered them,” I reply. “Because there was no profit in saving their lives.”

“Putting sentimentality over the pursuit of power will be your downfall.”

“Yet you’re the one strapped to this chair about to lose everything.”

He sucks in a sharp breath and snarls as Isabel increases the current.

“What do you want?” Father says.

“What else were you running, apart from the snuff movie studio, Three Fates, and the organ trafficking ring?” I ask.

He answers with pained grunts, his body going taut. Agony flashes in those cold eyes, his defiance battling with fear.

Father’s silence is no surprise. I endured years of misery before I finally broke. However, we don’t have that kind of time.

I pick up a scalpel and crouch in front of him, my face close to his. “Days without food and water,” I murmur, tracing its blade along the lines of his jaw. “Days of humiliation and pain. How long will you last?”

He doesn’t respond. I press the knife harder, making a shallow cut on his forearm. A thin line of blood appears, and he flinches, but barely perceptible. “By the time the other operatives finish, you’ll be nothing but a husk.”

Alarm flashes across his features. “I thought you’d keep it in the family.”

“Absolutely not. I have operatives, medics, cleaners, and maintenance staff waiting to extract their pound of flesh.”

“Call them off or I won’t share a shred of information.”

I draw back. “My people have captured at least twenty of your accomplices. We’re overwhelmed with data.”

A guttural noise escapes his lips, part laugh, part snarl. “You’re bluffing.”

“They have my permission to inflict any amount of degradation and pain, but to leave you intact. Amethyst is the only one who gets to cut off body parts.”

Father stiffens. It’s finally dawning on the old bastard that I’m here for revenge. “Then consider us even for killing my wife.”

Isabel turns up the electricity once more, infusing him with a surge of pain.

“She was a bitch,” she snaps.

Father hisses in, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “What’s wrong, boy? Can’t cope with a little competition?”

I move the blade up to his ear, making another shallow cut. His breathing labors, and he trembles from the effort to remain still. Leaning into him, I lower my voice to a whisper. “Do you know what Dolly said to me before you called her away?”

His eyes dart to mine with the tiniest flicker of curiosity.

“She hoped I would be a better fuck than you.”

Father purses his lips, looking like he wants to spit. Instead, he spreads his lips in a toothless grin. “It won’t last. Infidelity is in her blood. Amethyst is still just like her mother. And her sister.”

Laughter bubbles up in my chest. I draw back and rise to my full height. “Cheap psychological tricks only work on helpless children. Next time I check in with you, I’ll ask you to repeat those words to Amethyst.”

The smirk vanishes. “Is this your idea of an interrogation?”

With a snort, I turn to Isabel. “I’ll leave you to decide how many operatives he can handle for today. Make sure he’s ready in the morning for a full day of visitors. We have over eighty people scheduled for the week.”

Nodding, she turns the dial, adding a touch more power to Father’s electric shock.

“Xero,” he rasps. “Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry,” I say, tapping the flat of the blade against his cheek, “There’ll be plenty of time for us later.”

With a last, lingering glance, I turn to the exit, leaving Father screaming at me to return. Part of repaying him for his past includes giving the others he wronged their chance of retribution.

No amount of torture could ever make up for the trafficking, rapes, and murders, and I intend to spend the next several months hunting down his accomplices and saving his victims.

I step into the hallway, inhaling a deep breath. The air is cooler, cleaner, free from that bastard’s stench. A knot in my gut loosens at the prospect of Father finally facing the consequences of his actions.

Soon, Amethyst will have her retribution, and I will have my closure.

As I continue past cell after cell holding investors, instructors, and all manner of individuals who took part in Father’s empire, a weight lifts from my shoulders. Ahead lies a future free from the shadows of the past.

Justice will be served. I will have my reckoning. And the woman I love can finally begin to heal.