“Hey. Hi there.” Her voice is sweet enough to rot teeth. The kind that should warn any smart man to run. Jory just shakes harder, sweat dripping straight off his nose.
Behind her, Rowan and Ronan snort at the same time. I stay where I am in the corner, arms crossed, watching. Studying. Waiting. Berk makes everything look effortless, but I’m cataloging each twitch of Jory’s muscles, already predicting when he’s going to try something stupid. Not that he could, since he’s tied down.
She brushes nonexistent lint off his shoulder, all gentle and polite. “You look nervous,” she whispers. “Is it because we caught you mid-stroke? Bad luck for you. Grand entertainment for us.”
Ronan coughs, covering a laugh. Rowan makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. I just let my jaw clench tighter. I’m still thanking the universe Berk took the back entrance and didn’t see this rat with his dick in his hand, even though it’s still hanging out now.
Berk circles him like a slow, lazy predator. “Now that we’ve recovered from the… visual assault,” she says, “let’s chat. We have questions. You’re going to answer.”
Ronan rips the tape from Jory’s mouth, and the guy yelps like a kicked dog. The sound echoes off the cheap wallpaper. Jory’s eyes swing between all four of us—no comfort in any direction.
Berk crouches again, elbows on her knees as if she’s settled in for a conversation over coffee.
“First question,” she says. “How does a drop boy like you end up paid by men like Dean and Bryce?”
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammers.
I see Berk’s smile widen, and I brace.
Rowan moves first, cracking Jory across the jaw hard enough to bounce his skull off the chair back.
Blood sprays. Jory wheezes.
“Try again,” Berk murmurs.
“They—they pay me,” he blurts. “I don’t meet them or ask questions. I swear.”
Berk’s boot slides between his legs, forcing his gaze up.
He looks right at her chest before he can stop himself.
And that’s when I move. I’m on him in a blink, my hand fisting in his hair, jerking his face away so hard he whines.
“Try looking at her again,” I growl in his ear, low and cold, “and I’ll break every bone in your face one by one.”
His gaze drops to the floor as if his life depends on it.
Smart move—because it does.
Berk takes out a knife—one of her favorites, slim and wicked—and twirls it between her fingers. Jory’s breathing goes shallow.
“Where’s Kimber?” She asks.
He shakes so violently that the chair legs scrape. “I don’t—I don’t know any Kimber. I swear.”
Ronan leans over him, voice a snarl. “Wrong fucking answer.”
I take a step back, letting Berk decide.
She doesn’t disappoint.
She slides the blade straight into his thigh. Clean. Precise. No hesitation. Jory screams into the room, the sound cracking at the edges.
Ronan slaps a hand over his mouth before he wakes the neighbors.
“You scream again and we cut off the reason you were touching yourself earlier,” Ronan warns.
Jory sobs behind Ronan’s palm.