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The Rat

Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Rat

My hands started shaking as Brandon and Arkin got ahold of Jack. They took him to the chair and began to tie him down. To my surprise, there was no fight in him. My eyes traced his injuries. It looked like Vincent and the others had taken out quite a bit of anger on him. It made my lips twitch in a perverse sense of joy to know the amount of pain he had to be in. His eye was nearly black, and there was fresh blood dripping off his chin from my assault as well.

A familiar presence pressed against my back, and I leaned into him. Vincent's chest shook with silent laughter, and he reached up to cup my throat in his hand. With the slightest pressure, he encouraged me to tilt my head and meet his gaze.

"I thought you wanted Angel to go at him first?" he murmured, his breath washing across the shell of my ear.

"It was my intention." Another laugh rumbled through him. "Oh, shut up."

"Are you sure you want to be here for this?" he asked, voice softening as he spun me to face him.

"I need to be."

He nodded, cupping my face in his hands. His thumbs ran over my cheekbones as his eyes searched my face. I knew what he was looking for. He was still double checking to make sure I was ready for this. Arching my brows, I made sure to meet his stare dead on.

"Alright." He pressed a kiss to my forehead before moving past me. Angelica was propped against the table, her lip curling as she examined Jack. The man in question leered up at her, and it was everything I could do to keep from decking him again. Angelica looked to Vincent, and he nodded.

"I take it you remember me?" she asked Jack, giving him her back as she ran her fingers over the knives on the table.

"You're Alana's bitch."

Her spine locked up, but by the time she glanced at him over her shoulder, there wasn't an ounce of emotion in her expression. There was, however, a wicked looking hunting knife in her hand. In one smooth movement, she had whipped around and driven it deep into the fleshy part of Jack's thigh.

He screamed, and it was a beautiful sound. I watched, fascinated, as Angelica picked up a scalpel and moved in between Jack's spread legs. He was tied so tightly to the chair, the only thing he could move was his head. He dropped it back as he hissed a breath through his teeth. Angelica just laughed, running the scalpel from the inside of his elbow to his wrist. The cut wasn't deep, but it was enough to start the blood flowing.

Brandon eased up beside me, and I had to focus over the roaring that was starting in my ears to hear what he was saying.

"Did I mention that Angel likes knives just as much as she likes guns?" That startled a laugh out of me, which drew a pair of tawny eyes in my direction. The smile I gave him was dark, something I had learned from the man standing just a few feet away from me.

Vincent was watching the exchange with amusement. And as Angelica began making small, precise cuts along Jack's other forearm, his grin was a mirror of mine.

We were all insane.

"So, Jaxon," Vincent said, moving until he was in Jack's line of sight. Angelica didn't stop her ministrations. The cuts she was making were deep enough to draw blood, but no more than half an inch long. She had made nearly twenty at that point. "Care to talk before you bleed out?"

"What do you want to know?" Jack asked, his voice strained as he fought not to react to the pain.

"Who's your contact?" Vincent took his gun out of his waistband and placed it on the table. Then he leaned against it, crossing his arms and ankles. He was the picture of ease, if you didn't know what to look for. But that tick in his jaw was back, feathering as fast as a hummingbird's wings. But I knew he wouldn't rush this. We needed to know who the rat was. "How did you get into the party? How did you know where Juliette was?"