Dark Revenge Of A Jilted Bride: Till Life Do Us Part!-Chapter 104: Captive II

"I... will... talk..."

The captive stuttered the words out, his voice shredded—thin, hoarse, barely clinging to sound after too much torture.

Each syllable scraped out of him like it had to fight its way through broken glass. He was slumped in the chair, wrists bound behind him, his body listing slightly to one side as if gravity itself had begun to claim him.

The chair was old and metal, its legs scraping faintly against the concrete floor whenever he twitched, stained dark beneath him. His head lolled forward, then lifted with effort.

His face was barely recognizable as human now. One eye was swollen shut, the other bloodshot and glassy, rolling unfocused in its socket. Dried blood streaked down his temples, clotted in his hairline, smeared across his mouth.

His lips trembled uncontrollably. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven bursts, every breath wheezing like it might be his last.

Gianna watched him and wondered—not for the first time—how long it would be before he died.

She found herself thinking that someone should stop Zane. He was being overzealous, wasn’t he?

If the man died, their last link to the truth would die with him. Didn’t Zane realize that?

Or was he letting his anger drive him blind? He wasn’t the only one seeking answers.

"Isn’t he going to die at this rate?" Gianna finally whispered to Athena as they waited for the captive to catch his breath and speak. She couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Her eyes flicked to Zane, who was calmly tweaking the knife in his hands, slow and deliberate, making sure the man was watching him.

"No," Athena replied just as quietly. "Zane knows what he’s doing. He knows where to strike so the man won’t die. They’re trained like that, remember?"

Gianna had no idea what her friend was talking about—only that these men could become ruthless stone when time demanded it. Still, she nodded.

"And I won’t even let him die," Athena added evenly. "I brought a medical kit. He goes nowhere until he tells us what he knows."

Woe to anyone who ever found themselves on the wrong side of her friends.

Gianna folded her arms across her chest, schooling her face into neutrality. A mask. One that cracked the moment the captive raised his middle finger, wheezing out a half-laugh through bloodied teeth.

The bastard!

Zane didn’t hesitate. He struck the knife into the same spot on the man’s thigh and dragged it forward.

Gianna heard it—heard it—the sickening sound of flesh tearing, the wet resistance of muscle, the faint, horrifying scrape of bone refusing the pull. Nausea burned hot in her throat, climbing fast.

She tapped Athena’s arm. "My head is aching... I think I’ll wait outside, in my room. You can give me reports later."

She was already moving away when Susan chose to follow her.

"Is that how it is every time?" Gianna asked quietly once they were out, the cool night air hitting her face like mercy.

"Yeah," Susan replied. "I think so. It could be worse... at least Connor isn’t here."

She meant it as a joke. But when Gianna didn’t respond, Susan sighed.

"We need answers, Gianna. Surely you understand that? We need to find out who’s behind this. And seeing the man’s level of tolerance to torture, whoever sent him is paying well for loyalty. Someone big."

She paused, then continued more soberly. "We have to nip it in the bud before it escalates. Today it’s you and Zane... who will it be tomorrow? We haven’t even established where the attack is coming from, let alone the motive."

Another pause. "It could be new enemies. It could be old ones. But we need to be sure. There’s no choice here."

"I understand all this," Gianna muttered as she stepped off the porch. "But it doesn’t make the swallowing easier. I’m not used to it. Not like you guys."

"And that’s okay," Susan said gently. "Leave the brunt of the work to us. Then everyone goes home happy."

Gianna smiled now, soft and tired, thanking Susan for walking her out. "Thank you. You can go back now... I know you’re dying to. Don’t want to miss the moment of reveal."

Susan’s smile lit the night. She wished Gianna a good night and headed back into the cottage.

Gianna shook her head as she continued toward the main house. Susan was only twenty-three, yet she carried more grace than most of her peers—and a spine of steel.

What else could one expect from someone trained by Athena?

Gianna had half expected the young woman to shatter when Athena told her the truth about her mother Scarlett’s death. Instead, Susan had grieved, wreaked havoc on Morgan and his accomplices, then returned to work as if the world hadn’t cracked open beneath her feet.

Therapy with Damian had helped, of course—but still... One could only wonder.

In her room, finding nothing worthwhile to do—not even the zeal to design—Gianna crawled into bed with chocolate, propped her head against the pillows, and waited for reports.

Meanwhile, back in the cottage, the captive still hadn’t talked—even after losing three more fingers.

And as much as Zane wasn’t tired, he was worried.

Men like this usually worked for someone tougher. Someone bigger. What were they dealing with here really?

"You done?" Athena asked quietly, following his gaze to the empty space beside her.

Gianna was truly gone.

Zane wondered what she thought of the gory scene, then dismissed it. This was necessary. He shouldn’t be worrying about that. He’d already made a fool of himself once.

The video trending online flashed through his mind, sharp and humiliating.

Anger and frustration drove his hand as he slid the knife under the captive’s armpit.

The man didn’t scream. Instead, his eyes widened—with realization.

"Good," Zane said calmly, stepping back. "You know where the knife is now. A critical place. If it’s removed, you’re dead within seconds."

The man wheezed out another laugh. "You think I want to live? I’ve lost my fingers. You should already know I’m ready. You lot are just wasting time."

Zane nodded, almost thoughtful. "I know that. But you should have let me finish."

He leaned closer. "In the next five minutes, you’re going to experience something so painful you’ll beg to be allowed to die. And you won’t—unless you tell us the truth."

The man raised a weak brow. "I’d like to see you try."

"Oh, you will."

Zane turned to Sandro. "He’s ready for stage two. Let’s kick it off. We don’t have all night."