Lily's Protector - Wolves MC

Chapter 46

Nitro

"Wrench." I shout and Steven's eyes go wide. Let's see if a few cracked ribs will make this asshole talk.

Tank brings me a wrench from the equipment table and hands it to me as I give him the knife before he walks away. Steven's eyes drift down to my hand as I clutch the wrench tightly in it.

"How do you think you own her?" I demand clutching the wrench in my fist.

"I told you I'm not telling you shit." He hisses. This motherfucker. Turning, I send my foot hard into his stomach and watch as he body jerks back as he tries to catch his breath.

"How the fuck, do you think you own her?" I ask him again, and he refuses again to answer me. Good, more torture. I can do this, all fucking night. I was planning on torturing him after I got my answers, but now is good too. I send my foot into his stomach again, hard as he jerks and coughs.

I ask again and, still, no answer. This time, I swing the wrench into his side and his body jerks to the left as he screams in pain as I break a rib.

We continue this song and dance of me asking the same question and Steven giving me the same answer – demanding to see Lily and simply refusing to talk. I break more bones and bruise others by punching, kicking and attacking his body with half of the weapons on the table. Although he screams from each blow, he continues to take the assault I'm giving him.

After a few hours of Steven standing, I have the boys secure him back into the metal chair. They have placed a small wooden table in front of him and shackled his hands to it. His hands are flat in front of him, a knife sticking out of his left hand and a few cracked knuckles on both of them. There is blood covering the table and the floor beneath him. His body is black and blue from the beating he has endured so far. I'm surprised the fucker is still alive by the torture I have put him through.

Tank and Tex put Steven's feet inside two metal buckets filled with ice to give the bastard frostbite. Twenty minutes later, I ask the same question I have asked a hundred times over the past six hours, and I finally receive a different answer. Guess the thought of not walking got to the asshole. Either that, or he hates the cold.

"How do you think you own her?" I ask as I lean over the table over him.

He's shifting in his seat unable to take the ice on his feet any longer and groaning in pain from me busting another knuckle from him not answering the last time I asked him the same fucking question.

"Fuck! The way you own your women!" he yells in pain.

"And how do you think we own our women, asshole?" I growl at him. He has no idea how the club views our women or else he wouldn't have said that.

"I fucking control the whore!" As soon as I hear the word whore, I send my fist into his face, his face jerks to the left and blood begins to pour out of his nose again.

"You forgot rule number one, motherfucker. Do not refer to my woman as a whore." I remind him as he spits blood onto the floor next to him.

He brings his eyes back to mine again and I see the same anger in them that I've been looking at all night. I stand straight glaring down at him on the other side of the table waiting for him to fuck up again.

"I control her!" he continues to shout "Now can you remove the ice? Fuck!" Nope, not how we treat our women.

"Did you pay for her?" I ask, the question burning my tongue. I must know what he means by own. He deals in sex trafficking where they buy and sell women. Is this how he owns her?

"No, I don't pay for my women." He jerks his head disgusted that I would suggest such a thing, as if he's beneath it, even though he deals in it.

"Do you sell them?" I continue to stare down at him and wonder if he's finally ready to talk.