𝗙𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗲

6 - Ruthless and Fucking Royal.

"We should forgive our enemies, but not before they are hanged."

- Heinrich Heine

I made my way down to Goat's basement, my favorite interrogation room. My men had brought Adam here, one of Theodore's soldiers. I had no patience for the likes of him. The fact that I'd told Theodore to cut him loose months ago still rubbed me the wrong way. But Theodore insisted on keeping him around, saying Adam had a family to feed. What a fucking joke. I'd seen the look in Adam's eyes whenever cash was involved, the way his pupils practically bulged at the sight of the bags of money that went to laundering. Greedy men like him were the worst. Always ready to turn on you for a bigger payout.

By the time I arrived, Adam had already been softened up, courtesy of Goat and Zane. He was bloodied and bruised, but still holding on. Tougher than I thought he'd be. Now, I would assess if he was prepared to loosen his lips.

I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt, taking my time as I approached him. "So, Adam," I began, my voice low and calm, "Why'd you stay quiet about Daniel and Sarah?"

People around Chicago knew me for my cold, ruthless brutality—enough that they started calling me The Icy Surgeon, or whatever the fuck. Word got around about how good I was with a blade, how I always knew exactly where to cut to cause the most damage. It wasn't random violence either, I knew the human body inside and out. I had a thorough understanding of human anatomy, which meant I could leave someone bleeding out without getting a drop on myself.

Adam sat slumped in the chair, avoiding my gaze. His face was swollen from the beating, but he still had some fight left in him. I could see it in the way his hands gripped the chair's arms, his knuckles white.

"But I didn't know," Adam mumbled, his voice weak and unconvincing.

I chuckled darkly. "Come on, now, Adam. You don't think we know about your involvement in their disappearance? We didn't pick your name out of a hat, we know you helped them run off."

Tears welled up in his eyes, his lip trembling as he whispered, "I'm so sorry..."

"No, you're definitely not," I laughed, unable to hide my amusement. "That fat bank account of yours says otherwise." My hand casually grazed over the blade of my knife, making the subtle threat obvious. "You know what really pisses me off, Adam?" I asked, my voice unsettlingly calm.

Adam stumbled on his words, caught in an internal debate on whether he was supposed to answer. "B.. betrayal?" he stammered, his lips trembling as he eyed the blade in my hand.

I raised an eyebrow, then shook my head, almost amused. "No, spinach. Hate that shit. People throw it in everything these days—salads, pasta, even smoothies. Makes no sense to me. Ruins a good meal, you know."

Adam shifted uncomfortably, the unpredictable mix of threats and jests cranking up his anxiety. "I...I was just following orders," he stuttered.

I leaned in closer, my face inches from his, my eyes drilling into his. "No, Adam. You sold your boss out for pocket change. You didn't follow orders, you made a choice. A cheap, cowardly choice."