No Mercy

Chapter 13

My fist connects with his face with a sickening crunch. I suppress a sigh as he barely grunts in response. I readjust the blindfold covering his eyes before I walk around his dangling body in a slow circle. I stop behind him to tangle my fingers in his blood-matted hair and yank backwards so that I can trace one of my sharpened nails along his chin and down his Adam's Apple. I release my hold and quickly crouch down so I can run another finger up the side of his bruised right leg. I continuously touch him in random places on his body, even taking the time to spin him in a circle so that his arms have to hold his body up as he hangs. You would think after three days of being suspended from the ceiling and four hours of torture he would have broken already.

He's more resilient than I thought. The respect Najee has for this man's strength battles with her irritation of him not giving us the information we want.

He is strong. But I can see his resolve starting to waiver as his head whips from side to side trying to figure out where the next touch is going to come from.

I step back and scrutinize my prisoner. His hands are tied together over his head as he dangles naked from a chain that is bolted to the ceiling. The chain is just short enough so that he is barely able to stand on his tiptoes. His legs shake as he strains to remain on his feet and relieve the pressure on his nearly dislocated shoulders.

It should only take a little more to push him over the edge. Najee is purring as she regards our prey hungrily. A few more hours and everything he knows will be ours.

I try not to sigh in frustration because this torture isn't helping me vent my anger like I thought it would. I'm starting to get bored. I'm going to end this soon.

Let's play a little more first. Please? I roll my eyes as I place my hand flat on his bare chest and push him backwards so he starts to rock in an arc. He lets out a low moan as all of his weight is held up by his arms as he swings around the room. While he's still moving I walk to the back of the room to the rolling metal table that rests against wall. Deniel stands on one side of it while Silas is on the other.

Getting tired already? Deniel pulls his black hair up into a ponytail on top of his head. If you want, I can take a swing at him.

I don't know if that pun was intended or not, but it was horrible regardless. Denny and Sy both laugh silently at my comments.

Besides, I huff as I start to wheel the table back over toward the rogue. The fun is just getting started.

Just let us know when you've calmed down enough to hold a decent conversation. A light smile is playing at the corners of Sy's lips, but he is trying hard to keep a straight face.

I ignore him and start to plan my next bout of torture. The restrained rogue flinches at the sound of the rusted squeaking that grows closer. I push the table around so that the cold metal brushes his legs as his swaying slows to a stop. Once the table is stationary I reach up and pull the blindfold down so that it is bunched around his neck. He blinks rapidly as his eyes adjust to the harsh lighting in the room. He looks around the room frantically, trying to get accustomed with his surroundings. There isn't much for him to get accustomed to.

The walls are bare steel on top of a concrete floor with the only discernible characteristic being the solid metal door at the front of the cell. The only furniture in the room is the stainless steel table in front of me. A rusted, bronze tool box rests on top of it nearly taking up the entire length of the table. The visible age of the box in stark contrast to the shiny stainless steel table it sits on.

I can see a thousand questions flitting across the rogue's eyes as his gaze darts between me and the box. His gaze hardens as it finally settles on me. Once I have his full attention I open the box slowly, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time. I wait until he breaks eye contact to look at the trove inside of my treasure box.