Moving from Chicago to New York as a single mother, hoping that your new business does well, is scary. But what happens when you find out your best friends new husband is the leader of something even scarier, and the only person who seems to give yo...
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30 minute earlier
The sound of the bottom of the metal chair scraping against the concrete floor echoes through the room as my brother shuts the door behind him.
I situate myself in the uncomfortable chair, that is way to small for me, and watch the man and woman writhe under my brothers deadly glare.
He plays with the knife in his hands as he walks around them and runs his fingers over the various objects on the metal table placed behind them.
"No point in trying to get out of those ropes." He speaks to them as he holds up two pairs of pliers, "Blade tied them, and let's just say he has a lot of practice when it comes to securing people. In here and in the bedroom, if you know what I mean." He smirks as he circles back in front of them.
He grips the tip of the nail on their pointer fingers with the pliers, each hand holding a plier, "now, this could be very easy for you guys, if you answer all my questions. If you don't," he tightens his grip on their nails and the women whimpers and the man groans deeply, "your nail comes off. It's as simple as that."
"Now, which one of you is going to blab first and tell me where my two shipments are being sent? It was being sent to my sister, but now it's being sent to Ireland. Funny how that happened isn't it?"
"You know what else is funny?" I stand up and walk over to the table full of torture objects. I grab a small and simple knife and put it against the woman's shirt, right under her armpit. "Both of you seem to have the same tattoo."
I slice the side of her shirt open, "accidentally," cutting her as I do so. She whines as I make the slit a little bigger. I trace my finger over the tattoo, it's an outline of Ireland and a simple compass overlapping it.
"If I'm not wrong, this is the same tattoo that everyone in the Irish Mafia has." I wipe the slightly bloody knife on her shirt and cut the guys shirt to reveal the same tattoo in the same spot.
"How? How did you know where they were." The guy asks, and unintentionally letting us know that I was right.
"Let's just say I've dealt with a lot of people from the Irish Mafia, and they all have the same tattoo in the same spot."
"Plus your accent doesn't help either." Nikolai adds. "True." I point the knife as my brother.
I throw the knife in the sanitizing bucket near the door. No one likes to cut with a dirty knife. Plus if we are torturing someone for an extended amount of time, we don't want them to get an infection that will kill them too quickly for our liking.
