26. Luca

CHAPTER 26

LUCA

THAT EVENING – CAPTURING MCDOUGALL

A fter extracting Joey McDougall’s location from that little weasel, Nigel Simpson, the three of us met up with Ash, Romi, Vlad, and Trigger. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation, thickening as we prepared to confront the bastard. We probably didn’t need to go en masse, but uncertainty loomed—McDougall could very well be waiting for us with backup. It was odd that he was hiding out here instead of the country estate with the MP. The MP had to know we’d track him down; after all, McDougall had been Julie’s most recent boyfriend, and the police would have wanted to question him. Or at least they should have, if they weren’t all in on framing me. So, was he lying low to avoid the police, or was this some sort of trap set by the very people who had tried to ruin me?

Tension coursed through my body, igniting a heightened awareness as I scanned the area, my instincts screaming at me to remain vigilant. The building loomed in the distance—a decaying wooden railway structure, its paint peeling and splintered like the remnants of a forgotten past. It sat alone on an unused track just outside of London, its size imposing yet shrouded in neglect. The larger section had once housed snowploughs, their metal frames rusted and lifeless, now mere echoes of their former purpose. The smaller part resembled a neglected office, cluttered with debris that told tales of abandonment.

Surrounded by overgrown trees on two sides and an open field on the other, the place felt isolated—an ideal hideout. Or a perfect trap. I couldn’t see anything alarming, but complacency had no place here. With McDougall linked to the MP, we weren’t taking any chances. My heart thudded in my chest, a reminder that the stakes were high, and failure was not an option.

Slipping into our bulletproof vests and dark, inconspicuous overalls to avoid drawing attention, we approached cautiously, weapons in hand. Guns weren’t our weapon of choice in Britain; few were in circulation. Knives or knuckles were the preferred tools of our trade, but since the attacks orchestrated by the MP, we had adapted, equipping ourselves with handguns.

Trigger positioned himself high in a tree, ensuring he had a good vantage point, his sniper rifle ready. Once he signalled he was in position, the rest of us crept toward the building from different directions, avoiding the field. If this wasn’t a trap, we aimed to catch McDougall off guard.

We reached the door without incident and paused, straining to listen. Silence enveloped us, thick with tension, before Vlad kicked it in. The element of surprise was on our side, but it wasn’t needed. The place was empty except for McDougall, sprawled out on a filthy old sofa, an empty bottle in his hand and a bag of coke lying on the scratched wooden coffee table nearby. Fucking bastard was high on drugs and booze!

A battered metal bucket sat near the sink in a small kitchen area off to the side. I grabbed it, filled it with icy cold water from the tap, and threw it over him. He stirred but didn’t fully wake, so I doused him again. This time, the shock brought him around enough to register our presence.

“What the fuck?” he spluttered, bleary-eyed, before his gaze locked onto mine, recognition dawning in his eyes. “You!” he exclaimed, attempting to jump to his feet in a futile effort to run.

“Sobered up now, I see,” I said, stepping in as Vlad moved in front of him, yanking him back down onto the sofa. The coward was in no state to fight. He might have been employed as a bodyguard and had a penchant for hitting on women, but I knew his type—brave when surrounded by others, but weak when faced with true power.

“Good, because I have questions, and you’re going to answer them,” I stated, feeling the weight of the moment settle in my gut, my resolve hardening. I had to know everything about Julie’s death—who was responsible and why. The anger coiling within me craved release.

“Why did you kill Julie? Did the MP put you up to it, or was it your suggestion?” Anger boiled within as I confronted the male who’d murdered her.

“I’m saying nothing, you fucking bastard,” he spat.

“Answer the questions. Otherwise, you’re not going to like what happens,” I told him, my voice low and dangerous. I wanted the truth, and I was prepared to extract it by any means necessary.

He laughed, a hollow sound. “I’m not scared of you.” His eyes darted around the room, but I saw the flicker of fear behind his bravado—a coward trying to mask his terror.

The smile never reached my eyes. “It’s going to get rough if you don’t start talking.”

“Fuck you!” he sneered, but I could sense his confidence wavering.

I nodded to Ash, and he brought an old wooden chair into the centre of the room. Vlad and Trigger seized McDougall, forcing him into the seat and binding him with rope. Normally, we’d take the bastard to the Crematorium, better known as the C, where we had a special room built underneath for interrogations. But that was a one-way trip, anyone we took there, didn’t come out. We needed this fucker alive, at least for now, so we would extract the answers here.

“Now, talk. Why did you kill her? Did you do it because the MP asked, or was there more to it?”

He fell silent, but his snigger told me he wasn’t taking me seriously. That would change. I punched him in the gut, and he grunted.

“Is that all you’ve got?” He smirked, his voice full of false bravado.

Another punch landed, and he wheezed.

“Tell me!” I commanded, punching him hard in the face, his head jerking to the side.

“Aargh! You fucking bastard.” He spat blood.

As I prepared to strike him again, Ash restrained me, whispering in my ear. “Luca, calm down. Let’s not mark him up where it can be seen. It won’t help our plan if he looks like he’s taken too much of a beating.” I nodded, taking a deep breath to calm myself. The irony of Ash telling anyone to calm down wasn’t lost on me; it was usually him who needed restraining. He’d come a long way in managing his own anger.

He looked scared now, glancing between us. “What are you guys whispering about?”

“Ash here wants to start burning you, but I prefer other methods myself.” I smirked at him, feeling the darkness within me stir.

“Fuck off! The MP’s going to fucking ruin you guys. You think you’re tough? Wait until you see what he can do.” He laughed, but I grinned back, a predator toying with its prey.

“Are we going to have to do this the hard way, Joey? Please tell me we are?”

“I’m saying nothing, you fucker,” he said, but his eyes showed a slither of fear.

“Oh, you’ll talk. No matter what it takes,” I told him, my voice dripping with menace as I pulled a knife from my pocket. It glinted ominously under the dull strip light overhead.

He gulped, the bravado slipping away.

“I only did what I was told!” The coward practically shouted in fear as his eyes followed the knife.

“You killed her,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “You tied her up, drugged her, and raped her before you slit her throat and left her to bleed out on my bed. You’re a fucking bastard. And over what? Jealousy? Money? Both?”

I nodded to Ash, and he punched the bastard in the gut, the sound of McDougall’s grunt of pain making me smile.

“She was a fucking whore!” he spat out, the words forced as he tried to hold back his pain.

“That’s no way to talk about a woman,” I chided, shaking my head. The bastard needed a lesson in respect.

“The cheating bitch got what she deserved,” he spat, and Ash punched him in the gut again.

“Well, maybe it’s time you got a little of what you deserve,” I told him, my voice deliberately menacing as I cut open his T-shirt, the fabric yielding to my blade.

“What the fuck are you going to do?” Fear laced his voice, a tremor that excited my dark instincts.

“Well, first I’m going to play. Let you feel a little bit of the terror Julie must have felt that night. Then I’m going to ask the rest of my questions, and you’ll tell me what I want to know, or I will continue to play until you do, or die, whichever happens first.” I smiled, the wicked glint in my eyes matching the intensity of my words. Of course, I had no intention of killing him, but he didn’t need to know that.

He gulped in fear, eyes widening as the knife made its way toward the skin of his exposed chest.

“Wait, no, fuck. I’ll tell you, whatever you want to know. I’ll tell you,” he screamed, desperation flooding his voice.

“Yes, you will. But not until you’ve had a little taste of a knife sliding through your skin, just like it did through Julie’s. Gag him,” I instructed Vlad.

“No…” McDougall screamed, but the sound was muffled as his ruined T-shirt was wrapped around his mouth.

Over the next few minutes, I slowly cut into him, making shallow cuts that brought him pain, just as my dad and Alexi had taught me. And enjoying every second of it. This man would feel at my hands, all the fear Julie must have at his.

Tears flowed down his face as he screamed behind his gag with each small laceration I made. When he finally pissed himself, I decided he’d had enough.

“That was for Julie. Now answer my questions or you’ll get more for your part in framing me for her murder. Understand?”

He nodded, and satisfaction flowed through me. A short while later, I had the answers I wanted, and he was still alive—for now.

Leaving Vlad and Trigger to watch over him, the rest of us returned home to put the final touches on our plan to lure the MP into a trap of our own.