"Yuvraj, please," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Don't do this."
"Get up," he ordered, his voice as cold as ice.
Tears streamed down my face. "Please, I'll do anything. Just don't make me-"
"Step on the glass," he interrupted, his eyes burning wit...
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The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the occasional creak of the old wooden floorboards. Pradeep and Roopa, still tied to their chairs, glared at us with venom in their eyes, their defiance stronger than expected. The rope around their wrists and ankles strained as they shifted, trying to free themselves, but they were bound too tightly.
I clenched my fists, my mind buzzing with frustration. We needed answers, and fast. Aisha's parents deserved justice, and I wasn't going to let these two walk away without paying for their sins.
Yashraj stepped forward, his expression unreadable but his eyes cold. He grabbed a metal rod from the corner of the room-an old tool we'd found in the abandoned house. He twirled it in his hand as if testing its weight, the low metallic hum sending a chill through the room.
"You think we're playing games here?" Yashraj's voice was sharp, laced with menace. "You killed two innocent people. You destroyed lives. This is your last chance to speak up before things get worse."
Pradeep's lips curled in a sneer, even through the cloth gagging him. His eyes were burning with defiance as he shook his head, refusing to cooperate. Roopa, on the other hand, was shaking slightly, though her gaze remained hard.
Yashraj nodded to Viraj, who moved toward the table we'd set up. It was littered with tools-pliers, a hammer, and other instruments that would make anyone uneasy. Viraj's expression was calm, but his movements were deliberate as he picked up the pliers.
Without a word, Viraj strode over to Pradeep and yanked the cloth from his mouth, his eyes locking with the older man's.
"Start talking," Viraj said, his voice low and dangerous. "Tell us what you did, or this gets ugly fast."
Pradeep spat at Viraj's feet, his voice dripping with hatred. "You think I'm afraid of you? You're nothing. You and your pathetic brothers, acting like you're above it all."
Viraj's jaw clenched, but he didn't react immediately. Instead, he held up the pliers in front of Pradeep's face, letting the sharp metal catch the dim light. Then, without hesitation, he grabbed Pradeep's hand, his fingers digging into the older man's palm.
I watched as Viraj slowly positioned the pliers around Pradeep's pinky finger. Pradeep's expression faltered for the first time, a flicker of fear crossing his face. But it was too late.
The crack of bone echoed through the room as Viraj crushed the tip of Pradeep's finger. Pradeep's scream filled the space, raw and agonized, the sound muffled as he bit down hard to keep from showing his pain.
Roopa gasped, her eyes wide as she watched her husband writhe in the chair, sweat beading on his forehead. Her own fear was palpable now, but still, she remained silent.
"We'll go finger by finger," Viraj said calmly, wiping the blood from the pliers with a rag, his voice unnervingly steady. "It's your choice how much pain you endure before you tell us the truth."
