Her big ass brown eyes stare up at me, and if it wasn’t for the crazed glimmer in her eye and the fact that she’s covered head to toe in blood, she’d look innocent and sweet.
What a fucking lie that would be.
“Drop the knife.” Her hand instantly seizes, letting the knife clang to the blood-soaked floor. “What’s your name?” I ask.
“Sibel.” She pauses. “My friends call me Sibby.”
A pang of pity stabs at me. Something tells me the only friends this girl has are the people in her head. This girl is alone—completely alone. Judging by her niche for lurking in the walls, I would bet money that no one that works at this fair is even aware of her presence.
Sighing internally, I decide to throw the girl a bone. Don’t know if it’s because I feel fucking bad for her or what, but fuck, I guess I do.
“You’re an interesting person, Sibby. But I’m going to need you to calm the fuck down. I can’t interrogate in peace when you’re over there stabbing someone like a cracked-out banshee, you feel me?”
She physically relaxes at the use of her nickname. At me declaring her as my friend. And fuck if that doesn’t make me feel a little worse for her.
Reluctantly, she nods her head, and after reassurance that I’m not making fun when I call her a demon-slayer and wiping an eyeball off of the tip of the knife, I hand it back to her as a peace offering. And then I go back to interrogating Mark.
This time in fucking peace.
“Mark, are you going to give me the information I need? I want to know where you do the rituals,” I ask, my voice as emotionless as my expression.
“Z, I swear, I don’t know anything!” Mark lies. There’s vomit stuck on his lip from when he puked while watching Sibby completely obliterate his dear old friend.
Shit was brutal, even I can admit that.
I reach down, pick up Mark’s hand, dig the tip of my knife under his nail and pluck it right off. Mark screams bloody murder, but the sorry piece of shit hasn’t even felt real pain yet.
“Try again,” I say evenly. He protests again, lying through his veneers, so I rip off another nail with the tip of my blade. When I position my knife under the third nail and lift, he finally gives.
I almost laugh. The children he kidnaps last longer with torture than he does, which shows that Mark was always weak.
“Okay, wait, wait!” I pause, lifting a brow and waiting for him to continue. His breathing is erratic as tears and snot track down his face. Licking his lips nervously, he confesses, “S-some of the kids we take, we take them to an underground club.”
Sibby comes closer, her face enraptured as Mark confesses his dirty sins. I shoot her a warning glare to back off before I turn my attention back to Mark.
“Where is this place?” I ask calmly, though a burning heat simmers beneath the surface. It takes practiced control to keep my voice even.
“You can only access it through a private gentlemen’s club—Savior’s. You need special access to even get in the club, let alone gain access to the…” he trails off, and it seems as if he’s struggling with his words. Finally, he forces out his next words. “To gain access to the dungeon.”
A growl builds in my chest, but I wrestle it back down. My hand nearly shakes with the need to plunge this knife deep into his throat, but I refrain.
“Yeah? And what do you do in this dungeon?”
His eyes shift nervously, and his mouth flops soundlessly.
In one quick motion, I flick off the nail my knife was poised under. The answering scream does little to abate the fury crawling throughout my body.
I will thoroughly enjoy killing this man. His tortured cries as his body slowly dies will be my lullaby as I fall asleep tonight.
It’s not until I position the knife under another nail before he finally says anything of value. Crimson rivulets are spilling from Mark's hand, but I’ve barely begun truly making Mark bleed.
“Wait! I said, wait, goddammit!” I cock a brow at him again, urging him to continue. “We uh—we perform rituals on them.” He tightens his lips, a pained expression on his red face. “That’s how we’re sworn in to the secret society. We must perform a ritual and drink the blood of a virgin.”
He confirms what they do to the children, the government’s involvement, and I make sure to have him clarify the two men left breathing next to him are a part of these fucked up rituals. It takes stabbing Jack in the thigh before he admits to his sins, but Miller admits it immediately, not wanting to suffer like Jack and Mark.
“Can I play now, Zade?” Sibby asks impatiently from beside me. She’s vibrating with the need to kill, and in this moment, I can relate to the little demon slayer. We have the same mission, and that is to murder some fucked up individuals.
“Go ahead and have fun with those two. I have a couple more things to get out of dear old Mark first,” I concede, nodding towards Jack and Miller.
“If you don’t let me go, I won’t tell you anything else! Nothing!” Mark shouts, desperate as death draws nearer.
“You’re a weak man, Mark. You’ll tell me anything I want to know once the pain becomes too much. You either die slow, or quick.”
Sibby happily prances towards them and goes for Jack first. She slashes up his face, and it takes monumental effort to ignore her. Especially when her cheeks flush so brightly, I can see it through the makeup.
I swear to God, if she gets off right in front of me, I’m leaving.
I bend down, getting eye level with Mark and hold the knife to his dick. The tool he uses to torture young children will definitely be getting a knife plunged through it tonight while he’s still breathing.
“Who did you speak to about Addie?” I ask.
Mark stutters, his eyes continuously glancing over to his friend’s torture. A bone cracks, followed by Jack’s loud wail of pain.
I dig the knife down further. Mark’s eyes snap back to mine at the clear threat.
“Focus on me, Mark,” I say darkly. “Who did you speak to about Addie?”
Licking his lips, he asks, “In what regard?”
“In any regard that has to do with you kidnapping my girl and selling her, like you were planning to do before I walked in. Did you speak about her to anyone in a position of power involved with these rituals or Savior’s?”
I know the answer before he opens his fucking mouth and says it. The dimming of his eyes as he accepts that he’s about to suffer a great deal more pain.
“Yes,” he whispers.
I lose my composure for just a second, enough to snarl and slice my knife across his chest.
He screams, his face beat red from the agony coursing through him, but I’m not done. Not by a fucking long shot.
“Who?” I bark, losing my control over the beast threatening to rip out of my chest.
When Mark continues to moan in pain, I poise the knife right back over his dick and dig it in sharply. Enough to break skin, but not enough to cause any real damage.
Yet.
“Okay, okay!” Mark yelps, his eyes widening at the pain.
“Who?!” I boom. “I want fucking names, Mark.”
He sniffles but gives me the names I need to know. The names of the people operating the rituals. Names that are more than likely aliases. But it’s a start.
He admits he’s never seen their faces before, and all communication has been through a video feed where they’re shadowed in darkness.
They’re some type of secret underground government, and based on Mark’s ramblings, they have far more control over our government than I thought.