Split Love

CHAPTER 51

TUESDAY, July 9, 2019.

The thick clouds outside were dark, thunder and lightning rumbled with it, threatening a menacing storm, as if reflecting his own feelings and what was about to come. Next to him, Irina drove in silence. Her pale face and her silence revealed the fear dominating her. And for the first time, in a little over 24 hours, he closed his eyes and let sleep overwhelm him. He was exhausted and the rocking of the car didn't help.

Micah came down the worn stone steps into the basement. To the right, the dirty, round mirror reflected him in a grotesque contour. Just below, the sink with blood was dripping, forming a pool of red water on the floor. The smell of iron was strong.

He walked past two or three doors until he opened the last one in the dimly lit hallway. A man sat with his hands tied to the arms of a wooden chair in the center of the room, his head falling forward.

The sound of the door opening or Micah's boot crunching the pebbles on the ground didn't make the man move.

- You fucking played with the wrong person.

- So this is a game for you? - The man's voice was clear despite the gruesome state he was.

- Well, it could be. - He turned to the iron table next to the door and ran his gaze over some of the tools used for torture. - It can always be a game.

The Irishman had already been beaten upu before but for the mob to get information about an operation. And not by him. Micah liked to take things to another level. He always got the information he wanted and it would be no different this time. The most important information of his entire life.

His fingers ran over the large blades of scissors. The dried blood left the tool looking rusty.

- This could end quickly if you tell me what I need to know. - Micah put a small knife in his pants pocket and took the scissors. He slowly walked towards the man, who still wasn't looking at him. He was eager to get out of him what he needed to know. He needed to rescue her and quickly.

- What's the game? What do you think of truth or dare? - The man coughed. - Truth or dare, Roman?

- Fuck you. - His knuckles hit the man's face, who coughed and spat out blood. - Where is Jasmine?

- That's not how we play where I come from. It's my turn to ask the question.

- You have no fucking right to questions. Look at me.

- Oh no? This isn't a fair exchange, hm?

The man's insolent words were oxygen for the ember inside him that burned day and night. His implacable face and merciless eyes didn't hide the smoke, the blazing fire.

- I'm the one asking questions here. - He growled.

- Oh. And I just listen and believe everything you say? So, I can't leave, move, or ask questions. But you can.

- You are the prisoner here!

The tied-up man laughed. And Micah hit him again. He raised the scissors but before he could hit him, the man asked him a question. His voice sounded distorted and hoarse.

- Am I? Or she is?

- She? - He whispered. The man's question hit him hard.

- Yes. Where is she, Roman? - The man asked between laughs. The almost diabolical sound that invaded the small place, penetrated his mind.