Dr Meera Saravana is known as the lady with the blue ribbon. She's been on the run for the last ten years due to a fatal misunderstanding. She ends up in New York, hoping that maybe this time everything will work out. But that's turning out to be i...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I sit back in my chair, listening to the screams of Arlo.
I'll admit I shouldn't be enjoying it as much as I should but there was a hit of
Nik was having a field day turning his annoyingly smug face into ground beef. Normally I'd hold back but I let Nik continue, knowing that this was the best way to get information out of that bastard.
He screamed when Nik broke his nose.
I doubt anyone could hear us from the outside. Count on dad to have a bunker to torture people built just because it was easier than torturing them in some remote place. I remembered the times he used to brink Nik and I down here, making us watch as he didn't unspeakable things to people. Real father of the year material. Of course, what else did you expect. I've seen guns flat the skin off men till they begged for forgiveness and break fingers off each time someone lied to us. He was a hard core gangster. Dad knew how to make a man bleed with a blade and some psychological torture.
Skills that were now useful to us.
I watched as blood tricked from his nose and onto his shirt. His once coifed hair was a mess, strands clinging to his once handsome face. He glared at me with his one good eye.
I glanced up at the clock in the corner of the bunker. "I think he's hand enough, Nik. Let's give him a small break."
Nik scoffed and slammed his fist into his face once more. He made a disgusted sound, shaking off the blood from his knuckles.
One of our men who had stood in the corner patiently handed him a towel. The floor of the concrete bunker was flecked with blood. I didn't care if tracked bloody footprints all over the place. We could always have someone clean this place up later.
I got up and slid my jacket off, draping it over the back of the chair. It was a Christmas give from my mother, I didn't want to get it dirty with blood. I folded up my sleeves, exposing the knifes that I had strapped to my forearm. These were also a present, this time from Anya. Arlo's eyes widened at the sight of them. His eyes looked scared for a second before they were replaced with panic. Good, he was scared. These sharps were sharp after all, I always made sure they were or else what was the point of keeping them.
"Still not talking?" I asked, pulling up a stool across from him. I sat down, my leg crossed over the other so he could see my shoes. "You look like canned meat, Arlo. Sure you don't want to say anything? What would your father say if you ruined that face of yours? Think he would hire a plastic surgeon for you?"
He growled, baring his teeth at me like some animal.
"Fuck you!" He said. Arlo spat at my feet, a thick glob of blood landed on the tip of my shoes. I could've taken that shoe and beat him to death with it but I needed his alive for the meanwhile. But that didn't mean I couldn't maim him just a little. "Fuck you and your whole family too!"
