Bertinelli Family

Chapter 45. Lulëkuqe

Oliver's POV

I walk down the damp hallway with my shoes, making an ominous click noise as I and Dad walk in tandem. We stop in front of a blood-soaked door and motion for the guard to open it.

We walk inside to see a bloodied and bruised man chained to a metal chair. His shirt is missing, but from the cuts on his chest, the shirt wouldn't be much help anyway.

I stay back by the door slightly hidden in the shadows. When a knock is heard on the door, Dad knocks back on the door with a pattern. A guard walks in, wheeling a table with various weapons on it.

Dad walks over to the table and motions for the guard to leave the room. He takes off his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves. He looks at the table and picks up a screwdriver.

Dad walks over to the man. This man we've had in our custody for a few days now. This man we tracked down to having sent the letters to the girls. We know he's not behind it since we've never had a connection with him. But he knows who is behind this.

"You delivered a letter to my house a few weeks ago," Dad tells him. "Who gave it to you?"

"I don't know." The man stutters out in fear.

"I don't believe you." Dad starts to press the tip of the Philips head into his leg, pressing harder.

"Please, sir, I have a family."

"You want to help threaten my family, and you want me to give you mercy by using your family as collateral. A family you haven't seen in four years. A family who has a new dad and husband." The dad puts more pressure starting to break the skin.

"Please, I don't know who gave it to me."

"So what did an invisible person do? Or did the letters fall from the sky? No, they didn't. Someone gave them to you and gave you instructions and a price. Who was it?"

"I don't know their name!" He exclaims as Dad presses the screwdriver through his skin, inserting it about an inch in his thigh.

"What did they look like then? What accent did they have? What was their cologne? You know something." Dad's accent starts to come out as he gets angrier.

"He was American. He wore a mask. I promise." Dad gets fed up and pulls the screwdriver out, and walks back to the table.

"I swear. I don't know anymore." The man cried as Dad looked through more tools. He picked up a sharp knife and brought it into the light.

The man continued to blabber about how he didn't know anything. Dad went over to him and bent down to be the only thing in his line of vision.

"I believe you don't know how he is, but I have more questions, and you have more answers. For every question you don't answer, I take an inch of skin off. Got it." The man only cried.

"Good. Where did you meet?"

"He came up to me on the street."

"Is that where he gave you the letter?"

The man paused for a second and looked down at the knife in Dad's hand before lying to us, "Yes."

"Liar." Dad brought the knife up the man's bicep and marked an almost perfect inch-by-inch square on the man's arm before slicing it off.

His screams filled the rooms, his voice cracking.

"Let's try that again. Where did you meet when he gave you the letter?"

"I-i-i don't know. He picked me up and took me somewhere he kept me blindfolded." He stuttered out, whimpering in between words.

"Was it only him that picked you up?"

"Yes."

"What kind of car was it?"

"An SUV. It was smaller, though, and black. It looked new. I never saw the plate or brand. He blindfolded me before we even left my driveway."

"How long was the drive?"

"I don't know, like 15 minutes."

"Was it smooth or rocky, a dirt road, come on?"

"It was smooth. But I had a rocky driveway, smelled like the woods when we got out."

"What was the inside like?"

"It looked like a normal house, but there were no pictures."

"What were the instructions?"

"He said to sneak the letters after the mailman came and said the guards wouldn't think anything of it."

"A wise man like yourself wouldn't do this for free, so what did he give you?"

"He gave me 5 thousand up front and said it was an insurance policy. If I came back for the rest, he knew I didn't go to the police or you guys."

"How much?"

"200 thousand."

"My family is worth 205 thousand to you."

"No. No. I promise I didn't know what was in the letter."

"Is that supposed to make it better? Someone comes up to you and offers you 200 thousand dollars to deliver a lousy letter, and you think it's what a birthday invite?"

In a blind rage, Dad starts to beat the man periodically slicing across his skin with a knife until he looks like a Wolverine victim. The man's screams don't stop until he passes. either pain or blood loss, probably both. He continues to hack away at the man. It isn't until a shallow breath is left that Dad stops and throws the knife on the table.

He grabs his jacket and walks over to the door, doing a pattern-like knocking. It opens, and we both step here the faint wheeling of the table across the floors.

Me and dad walk into the office. He sits down in the chair behind the desk while I sit across from him. him.

"What do we do?" I ask him. He rubs his middle finger and thumbs on the bridge of his nose.

"What do you think we should do?" Since I've been of age to take over, Dad gives me opportunities like this

"Pinpoint where the car could have gone from the idiot's house. We narrow down where they could have gone, and we can narrow down who it could be." I suggested it to him.

"Good. Get someone off by the addresses and names. Have them send us the list and cross reference with any known enemies."

"Shouldn't we look for people we just know in general," I tell him, thinking about how it has to be a mole involved somehow?

"Yeah. Cross-reference for anyone we know or have done less with."

I nod and walk out of the room, heading towards the tech room to give the newest instructions.