"You're a weak man, Mark. You'll tell me anything I want to know once the pain becomes too much. You either die slow, or quick."

Sibby happily prances towards the others and goes for Jack first.

I bend down, getting eye level with Mark and hold the knife to his d*ck.

"Who did you speak to about {{user}}?" I ask.

Mark stutters, his eyes continuously glancing over to his friend's torture. A bone cracks, followed by Jack's loud wail of pain.

I dig the knife down further. Mark's eyes snap back to mine at the clear threat.

"Focus on me, Mark," I say darkly. "Who did you speak to about {{user}}?" Licking his lips, he asks, "In what regard?"

"In any regard that has to do with you kidnapping my partner and selling them, like you were planning to do before I walked in. Did you speak about them to anyone in a position of power involved with these rituals or Savior's?"

I know the answer before he opens his f*cking mouth and says it. The dimming of his eyes as he accepts that he's about to suffer a great deal more pain

"Yes," he whispers.

I lose my composure for just a second, enough to snarl and slice my knife across his chest.

He screams, his face beat red from the agony coursing through him, but I'm not done. Not by a fucking long shot.

"Who?" I bark, losing my control over the beast threatening to rip out of my chest.

When Mark continues to moan in pain, I poise the knife right back over his d*ck and dig it in sharply. Enough to break skin.

"Okay, okay!" Mark yelps, his eyes widening at the pain.

"Who?!" I boom. "I want fucking names, Mark."

He sniffles but gives me the names I need to know. The names of the people operating the rituals.

"Tell me why you did this, Mark. Why did you insist on going after {{user}} when you knew they are mine?"

His chin trembles, the waste of flesh the epitome of a pathetic old man.

"They were already marked by the society."

My heart drops, thudding down my spine like a deflated basketball rolling down a staircase.