Mio Re (#3)

Chapter 41: The Story Of The Queen

⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️
Graphic depictions of rape. Read at your own risk.
I will be putting the rape scene between two sets of red stop (🛑), so if you wish to skip that particular scene, you may.

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(Arie's POV)

          "Sir will have my head for this," Zaya complained, removing the gag from the man's mouth who was tied up in the basement of my home.

          "As long as you keep your mouth shut, we'll be fine." I tightened my grip around the handle of the knife and rested it against the man's lips, preventing him from speaking or screaming. Since the house was on a hill, away from other neighbors, no one would hear his cries regardless. "This is the only way I can keep myself occupied since the hospital thought it was best if I took a couple of days off in light of the recent events."

          "You should be mourning, Arie," she advised as if I didn't know this myself. I had been crying day and night, took up drinking to numb the pain, but it was useless, and almost got myself killed on the road twice which was unintended. The only way I could stop myself from going crazy was to find the bastard who killed Fred and avenge his death hence the half-beaten man who was tied to a chair in front of me. "Get it out before you go back to work and kids. You're a first-year resident at that teaching hospital. You can't learn under stress, and you can't be sure if they'll allow you any more days off. You're not their boss."

          I spared her a quick glance and spoke curtly, "Zaya, I get your concern and I appreciate it, but for fuck's sake, focus on the task at hand. If you don't want to help, go upstairs. I can handle this myself."

          "But, Arie..."

          "Actually, just go."

          With a sigh and a heavy heart, she walked up the stairs and shut the door, allowing me to turn my attention back to the scared man. "I'm losing my patience here now. Tell me where your boss is or else I'll make it hurt worse than your dead friends at the pub."

          The man's lips trembled against the blade, his tears and sweat mixing and sliding down his face like trails of miniature rivers. Retracting the knife a bit, I offered him a chance to speak. "We only get orders over the phone, ma'am." He paused to regain his failing voice. "He doesn't meet us personally. We are only dogs who follow the orders."

          "Oh, boy." My nails sink into the flesh of his cheeks to force his scared brown eyes to meet mine as I scraped the knife against his torso to inflict a small wound. "I will keep torturing you unless you give me something to go on."

          "Please!" He sobbed, lowering his head. "All... All I can do is give you the number we received the calls from. But I believe it's a doctored number, so I don't know if it'll be of any use to you. That's all the information I have."

          I hummed and noted the number down before stepping away from him. "Let's hope I can trace it back to a location, doctored or not. If not, I'll come back to wet my hands in your blood again."

          Shoving the gag back into his mouth, I put tape over it and then knock him out cold. I felt a sudden urge to hurl and immediately found myself in the bathroom spilling all my insides out. A part of me was disgusted, repulsed, and ashamed of myself for doing this and killing men to get information about Orel Pavlov, but the rest of me made peace with it all instantly. Alon's passing was my tipping point, leaving my heart and soul in a rotten state, and I knew I was spiraling out of control. This wasn't me. Never so reckless and murderous, but I needed to bring that son of a bitch to justice for Fred's murder.