“Not having a dick just means I can go right on to shoving my shotgun up your ass,” I told her conversationally, making sure my grin remained strong—and hopefully a little anticipatory. “I’ve always been curious what happens when you take point-blank range to the next level. And watching you bleed out on the floor from having all your internal organs perforated would be worth not getting all the answers.” In turn, I ground my hips forward, as if the very thought did some interesting things to me.
Her face remained impassive, but I didn’t miss her convulsive swallow. So she did take me seriously, at least to a point. Interesting. Also borderline useless until she started spilling her guts, hopefully before I had to pick up one of the knives set aside in plain view and help along with the physical analog of that. Yet rather than fold, she said, “Like that’s very motivating.” Her attention again skipped behind me, to the right, where I knew Hamilton was lurking. “Why do you indulge this damn imbecile? She’s just wasting your time, and very ineffectively.”
I wasn’t stupid enough to look over my shoulder—and leave my nose, ears, and possibly eyes and neck exposed to her—but part of me was burning to check the look on Hamilton’s face. Normally, I would have expected his favorite expression around me—a perfect sneer—but I doubted he would give Cindy that satisfaction. He didn’t speak up, so I guessed he was holding her gaze evenly. He’d gotten really good at that silent “I’m still better than you” gloat—I’d been subjected to it all morning while we’d gotten some more caffeine into our systems and had pretended to do more than unenthusiastically push oatmeal around chipped bowls while Andrej and Pia had shot suggestions to and fro about how to best get started with the interrogations while the three of us had mostly just listened. Why it was us rather than them in here was easily explained—the Ice Queen had other shit to take care of, like getting the day-to-day of the new management sorted out, and someone needed to take care of getting more cars up and running. That left the three of us idle. I couldn’t pass up the chance to haunt one of my new least-favorite people in the world, and as it stood, both Nate and Hamilton were amazing for scaring anyone shitless with their sheer presence. It didn’t matter that there was a thick, dark bruise around Bucky’s neck where he’d almost gotten strangled yesterday, or that he’d lost most of his physical bulk over the months of imprisonment in the camp; it just made him look even more the lean, mean survivor that he was. In turn, Nate’s comparative bulk came with its own implications—and that was a can of worms I fully intended to keep the lid on as long as humanly possible. I hadn’t been the only one who’d noticed that he’d barely eaten more than a single spoonful of oatmeal this morning. Granted, I was the wrong one to ask if it had been edible or not, but the fact that everyone at the table had been watching in silence spoke volumes.
Another fight for another day. Today, all that was on my agenda was to get some answers out of this fine specimen before me.
Absentmindedly playing with the hair at the nape of her neck—which made her already tense body go rigid—I went on chattering. “If I were you, I wouldn’t count on either of them losing it and ending your miserable existence quickly. I could be wrong, but Hamilton must have a huge beef with every single one of his former soldiers who turned on him, and Miller... where do I start? With the fact that you murdered the one woman who showed him a thread of kindness, or that you prepped his wife to get raped to death? No worries—we won’t go the eye-for-an-eye route, but when you bite it, we will have to bury you in pieces.” Her eyes narrowed as she got ready to deflect that, but paused when I gave her a dazzling grin. “You saw my hands, right? You really think I couldn’t replicate how they worked me over?”
Confusion crossed Cindy’s face, quickly followed by dread. This time when her gaze flickered in Hamilton’s direction, it wasn’t in challenge but seeking confirmation—that she must have gotten, seeing how she paled. “You’re lying,” she accused, her tone flat.
I allowed myself a snicker, hoping that my acting skills were a little more on point than usual. Being around Hamilton was a kind of torture, so I wasn’t lying exactly, just not telling the truth.
“How did you think they got Miller to cooperate with them in the first place?” I asked, pitching my voice as if that was a rhetorical question. “I can tell you that pretty much every version I’ve heard of how we betrayed the scavengers is absolute bullshit, but you wouldn’t know, right? Because you betrayed your people and slunk away when things went sideways at the base in Colorado.” Cole had told me that she’d been part of the defense when we’d hit the base, and had been presumed dead when she hadn’t been around after we’d forged our rickety truce—that had changed nothing, least of all for the better.
“They wouldn’t,” she insisted, sounding like she needed to believe that more than she actually did. “They must have known that you’re useless without half your fingers. You’re a damn scientist. What use are you if you can’t do science?”
I was itching to correct her several misconceptions, but since that would likely have undermined my act, all I could do was shrug. “Guess all they cared about was my husband’s cooperation.” I paused, taking a moment to shift on her lap again. “But none of that is relevant now, except to stress just how low my bar for things I will not do has become. So why don’t you do us all a favor and spill your guts, and we can be done before lunch break.”
I already knew what was coming when she visibly set her jaw. “You’re not getting anything from me, cunt.”
I considered before I got up, finally getting a chance to glance at the men behind me. Nate looked grim, Hamilton eager. “Too bad,” I muttered, then looked at the table with the extensive amount of scalpels and other things, and back to Hamilton. “Wanna lend a hand?”
“With pleasure,” he drawled in what must have been the first agreement the two of us had reached without fighting beforehand. Oh, how torture and dismemberment brings people together! I cast a last glance Nate’s way but still didn’t get anything from him back, least of all a warning. I didn’t know exactly how it made me feel that he was happy to lean back and relax while watching me torture a woman who, without a doubt, deserved to be punished—but maybe not quite like this.
“Then let’s do this,” I offered as I mentally squared my shoulders and picked up a scalpel.
Hamilton stepped up to our captive’s back and grabbed her right hand, forcing her fingers apart. She tried to fight but to no avail. “How do you want to do this?” he asked, still jovial going on friendly, which weirded me out on so many levels—but was a welcome distraction from what I was about to do.
“Joint by joint,” I shot back. “Let’s take this slow.”
And slow I took it—even if I was screaming inside every fucking second.
As it turned out, both Cindy and I had been wrong—it took us a lot longer than lunchtime to get her talking, but talk she did. And scream. So much screaming that I was loathe to continue simply because it grated on my very soul. But as it turned out, Bucky and I were a surprisingly good team—once we started, neither of us could stop or even ease up, a silent contest of gritted teeth and narrowed eyes going on that was so much easier to concentrate on than what we were doing… or the bucket full of discarded bits that rested on the floor right in front of Cindy so that she could easily keep track of our progress.
That she hadn’t succumbed to systemic shock hours ago was a marvel—and plain testament to what the damn serum did to people. I’d know. I also tried very hard not to remember, which was impossible, considering the task at hand—ha!—and how much my fingers hurt, phantom pain included.
As we stepped back from the chair and its restrained prisoner—the wrist cuffs long having given way to rope around her elbows for practical reasons, also serving as a light tourniquet—screams were replaced by quiet, defeated sobs, which was ten times worse. I refused to even glance at Hamilton, instead focusing on Nate where he still leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed over his chest,
his body seemingly at ease, his eyes never leaving Cindy.
“Tell me about Nyah,” he said, deceptively calm. It was everything but, of course, seeing how Cindy tensed—and then went slack in her bonds. Her head lolled to the side as she sniffled into her shoulder, taking a few labored breaths before she turned back to Nate.
“What about her?” Judging from her tone, she was stalling. I was tempted to give her an incentive to keep talking right there—I didn’t know the name, but I could take a good guess at who it had belonged to, and that made me want to go all kinds of violent all over again. As it was, refraining from wiping the sweat off my brow and consequently smearing blood all over my face—again—was what I left it at.
Nate’s stare turned harder—if that was even possible—the line of his jaw standing out. “Why did you fucking kill her right after dragging her out of my cell?”
The mental image his words conjured up wasn’t pretty. I could downright taste his desperation and frustration as the guards held him down, forcing him to watch as that bitch executed the only person who had shown him any kindness—who had, maybe, even become a friend—right in front of his eyes. So much for feeling pity for her.
Cindy snorted—something I hadn’t expected. The smirk crossing her face was way too satisfied for anyone’s good, and it seeped right into her tone as she responded. “Why, isn’t that what you do to a used-up, old nag? You put it out of its misery?” For a second, I thought Nate would finally break his stoic stance—that he must have been vibrating with the need for violence was clear, at least to me. The measure of self-restraint it must have taken him not to give in was impressive, and just a little scary. It sure belied the amount of poison that I knew must still be coursing through his veins. But, if anything, stubbornness and spite kept him rooted in his spot, not giving her the satisfaction of taking her bait. When Cindy realized that, she let out a small laugh. “Don’t you get it? Any of the girls sent up from the kennels to the arena had long since lost any use for anything else. They only ever got served up to scum like you when they were too used and broken and diseased even for the lowlifes that made the barn their extended living room.”
The implications of that made me want to punch her all over again. This was exactly what they’d had planned for me if I hadn’t managed to break the hold the drugs she’d given me had on my mind and killed myself out of a glorious future of getting raped to death. It was impossible for me to shake off the horror of seeing Nate this way one last time; not for me, but for him. When we’d sprung him two days ago, he’d seemed composed enough—and except for tearing that asshole’s head off yesterday, he hadn’t lost control for a single moment—but I could tell from the way the tension in his body changed that he must have come to the same conclusion, and didn’t like it one iota better than I did. There was no need to staunch jealousy; just because he’d cared about that woman didn’t negate what we had. I felt like we were way beyond worries like that.
Good thing that I wasn’t in control, because Cindy might have managed to goad me into action this way. Nate remained calm as he went on questioning her. “If you had no other use for her, why not leave her with me?”
“And reward you for what, exactly?” Cindy taunted. “Be glad I killed her. That way I absolved you of the decision whether you’d eat her or not. Or should I say, I made it for you?”
Surprisingly, it was Bucky who gave a jerk at that, if where our captive couldn’t see him. Nate barely glanced at him—not enough to call it a warning—and I realized that the reason it was the three of us in here wasn’t just because of the phenomenal chemistry we had going on, but maybe also because of the information we extracted might not be great for the public at large to hear, unprepared.
Nate’s silence seemed to have been some kind of signal I missed, as Bucky took a step forward so he could aim another jab to Cindy’s left temple that got her head snapping sickeningly to the side, blood that had previously stopped spurting coming afresh from her nostrils. Maybe I should have felt worry at the fact that it seemed more like retribution than encouragement, but I was beyond that. Cindy muttered a curse under her breath, briefly trying to crane her neck to glare at Bucky, but Nate’s next question stole her attention.
“Care to tell us now why you chose to work with these assholes? From what I heard, you were a passingly competent NCO in your time.” She didn’t react to the barb, but Nate didn’t look fazed by that. He quickly glanced to me before going on. “Spare me the sob story of how you had to so you’d escape worse. We’ve had plenty of time talking to the girls you oversaw. You weren’t the one who showed them what little kindness they received.”
I had been surprised to hear that, while not exactly being sorry that the madam who’d run the brothel died, most of them had seen her as the lesser evil. They had been very forthcoming with pointing out that dear Cindy here had quite lived up to the task of being their enforcer.
It was impossible to miss how Cindy tried to look at Hamilton once more, but he kept his distance now. When she realized how futile her attempt was, she looked back to Nate. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Only passingly,” he responded. “But I’m sure someone will help you remember, if you need the incentive?”
She visibly jerked with apprehension, what little fight she’d showed leaving her with a labored exhale. If I had to guess—and there wasn’t much actual guessing involved—she was in too much pain to want to add to that.
“Honestly? Bad luck, just like everyone else,” she muttered. “You think your little ragtag band of misfits had it bad? Being in the army wasn’t much better. I lost more friends and comrades the second summer than when the shit hit the fan. My tour should have ended that first winter but they didn’t even give us a weekend of leave, if only to curl up and hide from the world for a sec. The toll got too high. So when someone suggested a way to drop off the radar, I took it. Just my luck that the alternative proved to be even more of a shit show than what I’d run from.”
I was a little surprised to see an expression on Bucky’s face that he usually reserved for me only. Great that in his view I was right up there with deserters. “I think that’s called karma,” I told her succinctly. “And reportedly, she’s a bitch.”
I shouldn’t have felt that thread of satisfaction at seeing her flinch at the sound of my voice, but didn’t find it in me to regret it. Cindy didn’t bother with glaring at me; instead, she switched gears—and I hated how honest and raw she sounded as she started to plead with Nate.
“I beg you, please end this. Yes, I get it—you hate me. And maybe I deserve it—”
“You absolutely do,” I happily supplied.
Another shaky exhale, and she continued. “Yes, I deserve it. I could have done what others did and acquiesced; only did what I was forced to do. But it’s not like they didn’t spare me, just because I got a promotion. I got caught in the same web that you did. Cortez made me an offer, and I was stupid enough not to read the fine print and expect the ramifications it came with. So maybe, a few times, my fear and frustration found ways to escape that made others suffer more. And maybe, sometimes, that made me feel a little better for a moment, like I had power. Control. Don’t tell me you don’t know exactly what I’m talking about! I watched you fight in the arena. I watched you change. There was a time when you only fought to survive. What you did yesterday? And the day before? Nobody made you go all out and not just kill, but execute your opponents. I may be guilty, but so are you.”
If she thought she could get under his skin with that, she was sorely mistaken… or was she? It hurt my very soul to listen to her accusations and see Nate not even try to protest. I wanted to jump into that breach for him—insist that, of course, things had been different. For one, he hadn’t done a thing to play along—but his silence made me cut down on the impulse. Whether he believed her or not was anyone’s guess, but he must have had a reason not to laugh in her face.
Surprisingly, Hamilton spoke up when neither o
f us did. “Yeah, because starvation for weeks at a time is no motivator at all.” I didn’t miss the glance he sent Nate’s way before he stepped into Cindy’s field of vision, taking over. That was concern, and not the kind that I was used to—sarcasm twined with disdain, usually centered around Nate’s choice to stick it out with me. Rather than let her explain or respond, Hamilton hit her again, hard enough that something crunched—and I doubted that had been his fingers. Cindy seemed dazed rather than just hurt as her head lolled to the side, blood dripping onto her stained dress. Hamilton used the opportunity to push a jaw spreader into her mouth. I hadn’t seen him pick it up. He sounded almost pleasant when he turned to me. “Get the pliers.”
I didn’t hesitate but felt like another layer of sanity fled from my mind. No idea why the prospect of tearing out her teeth next skeeved me out more than what we’d already done to her; maybe because I’d gotten so used to my own shortcomings that I no longer saw them as the most horrible thing in the world. I told myself that at least I wouldn’t be the one using the pliers, since I lacked the manual strength for that. See, everything is good for something.
Cindy took that moment to shake off the daze, only to realize that because of the jaw spreaders, answering wasn’t something she could easily accomplish anymore. Judging from the sequence of grunts and moans, she was regretting not having talked more when that had been an option. A small part of me waited for either Nate or Hamilton himself to stop and give her a chance to rectify that, but the expression on Nate’s face was truly unforgiving. I wondered if that was the consequence of Cindy’s barb hitting home—that if he wouldn’t allow himself redemption, he certainly wouldn’t grant it to her.
I realized I was okay with that. Maybe that made me a horrible person—but at least I was in good company.
Green Fields Series Box Set | Vol. 4 | Books 10-12 Page 44