Chapter 7 Ren
After my warehouse was compromised and raided by the military scum, it is time to begin searching for another that would be quite difficult for the military to find. But first of all, I need to deal with the piece of shit that sold the location of my warehouse to the military. I hate being betrayed, and I make it a habit to ensure that everyone who knows the Shadow in the underground world knows how much he hates being betrayed. Leaving the asshole to go scot-free will send the wrong message to his rivals, making them think he has gone soft. He cannot and will not let that happen. This will serve as a message to every single piece of shit thinking of double-crossing me.
My phone rings, but I don't look at the caller ID before picking up. “Yes?”
“He's been safely secured at the location,” Matteo says, sounding bored.
“And his family?”
“Also secured. They're confused as hell and asking stupid questions. I suggest you get here quickly, Ren, before I accidentally shoot someone.”
I chuckle. Matteo is known for not being patient and also known for being trigger-happy. Well, that is why I made him my underboss, my second-in-command. He is ruthless and menacing and always bored. “We don't hurt women and kids, remember? We're just using them to taunt the bastard.”
“I know, I know.” He groans. I can tell he's rubbing his palm down his face in frustration. “Still… they are getting on my nerves.”
“I'll be there in half an hour,” I say and end the call.
Five minutes later, I'm in the backseat of my car, wearing my mask and voice enhancer, headed to the location where the traitor bastard is being kept.
We get to the location in about twenty minutes. By we, I mean my consigliere, who is also my driver.
The location, which is a torture chamber, is not in the city. It is far away. Buried deep. Soundproof. Isolated. No neighbors. No witnesses.
The guards open the reinforced door for me. The smell hits first. Metal. Old blood. Rust.
The chamber is huge. Bigger than most people expect. Wide enough to pace. High ceiling. Concrete walls stained dark from years of work. Dried blood streaks the floor and walls in ugly patterns. Some stains are old. Some are fresh.
There is a chair in the center.
Heavy. Steel. Bolted and chained to the floor. The legs of the chair are dark with dried blood.
Drainage runs beneath it. Wide grates built into the floor. Nothing pools here. Everything flows away.
The lights are harsh and white. No shadows to hide in. No comfort.
Along one wall is a table. Tools rest there. Neatly arranged. Cleaned. Maintained. Ready.
Knives of different lengths. Thin blades for precision. Thick ones for endurance. Pliers. Bone cutters. Hooks. Clamps. Needles. A blowtorch. Electrodes. Whips. A bucket of water. Another of salt.
Mr. Delacruz, the bastard, is already strapped to the chair.
His wrists are chained. Ankles locked tight. His head hangs low. Blood dries on his shirt. His face is swollen. One eye barely open.
He raises his head and squints with his good eye.
“M… Mr. Ren. I swear I did nothing wrong. I don't know why they dragged me in here. I've been paying my percentage every month, and I have never relented on payment.”
“Shhh,” I say with my forefinger pressed against my lips.
He gulps in fear but shuts his mouth.
“Good,” I say as I walk to the table filled with knives. “You're not allowed to speak unless I tell you to. If you speak out of turn, Mr. Delacruz…” I pause as I pick up a knife with a very thin but sharp blade. I drop the knife to pick up the thick black gloves, snapping them on.
“Now,” I say, turning back to face him. “Did you or did you not sell out the location of my warehouse to the military?”
“Mr. Ren, I would never do—”
“It's a yes or no question, Delacruz,” I snap, cutting him off sharply.
“No,” he says, but I see the flicker of fear in his eyes. Very subtle, but it is there.
“Really? Your unit falls under Rayhan, who is in charge of the dockyards and shipping routes, smuggling of goods, trafficking of drugs and weapons, and only those under the unit knew we were going to transport new goods to the warehouse, excluding the people within my circle. No one should have known about the location of the warehouse. Rayhan and I made sure of that. So… how then did the military find out about it? Hmm, Mr. Delacruz?”
“I swear, I don't know, Mr. Ren. I didn't tell anyone. Maybe someone else did, but I swear it wasn't me,” Delacruz says, now visibly shaking.
I sigh dramatically. “I really was trying to make this easy for you, Delacruz, giving you the avenue to confess your crimes, but it seems you'd rather prefer the hard way.” I grin in the most sinister way I can. Delacruz shrieks, and then I see a wet stain on the front of his pants. Gross. “So be it.”
I pick up a knife with a very long handle, taking my time to admire it. “This should work.”
“Please, Mr. Ren, I swear I didn't do it. I swear on the life of my family. I swear on my life!”
“We'll see.” I take slow and deliberate steps toward him, then flip the knife in my hand, catching it by the handle.
I signal to one of the guards to tear his shirt open. I place the tip of the knife against his chest and begin to spell traitor with it. A minute later, the bastard begins to sing like a bird.
He, in fact, sold out the location of the warehouse for a huge sum of money from a rival gang. He had plans to escape before Rayhan and Matteo caught him and brought him to the torture chamber.
“You betrayed me for those scums. But where are they now?” I ask in disgust.
“I'm sorry,” he sniffs, snot rolling down his nose, his face covered in sweat and tears. “It won't happen again. I swear.”
I don't say anything. I snap my fingers, and a second later, the doors of the torture chamber burst open. Two hefty guards drag Delacruz's wife, daughter, and son inside, with Matteo trailing lazily behind them. The guards toss the three of them forcefully in front of Delacruz, right on his filth. It takes everything within me not to gag.
“What is this?” he asks, his eyes widening in fear. “My family has nothing to do with this! Leave them out of it! They've done nothing wrong!” he yells.
One of the guards punches him hard in the face, blood splattering from his mouth onto the floor. “Mind the way you speak!” he growls.
“The invites have been successfully sent, and everything concerning the party has been arranged,” Matteo says, coming to stand by my side.
I nod. I am completely looking forward to meeting that feisty Captain.
“Mr. Ren,” Delacruz moans weakly. “Please, they have nothing to do with this. Let them go.”
“No. You should have thought of them before deciding to betray me. Moreover, your wife was in on it. Didn't she encourage you to accept the deal? The only innocent ones here are your kids.” I turn to one of the guards who dragged them inside. “Take the kids away.”
“No!” Delacruz yells, trying to fight his way out of the chair. The kids scream and kick, trying to free themselves from the grip of the guards, but it's no use. The door shuts behind them, and Delacruz begins to scream like a maniac. His wife sits on the floor, saying nothing.
She sits on the floor with her hands bound, her back straight, her chin lifted just enough to look defiant. Her eyes are red but dry. No tears. No begging. Just pure hatred burning straight through me.
She stares at me like she wants to carve my name into stone and spit on it.
Delacruz is the opposite. He is unraveling.
He thrashes against the restraints, veins bulging in his neck, his breathing loud and uneven. His face is blotchy. Sweat drips down his temples. His body jerks against the chair as if he can force his way out through sheer desperation alone.
He shouts his children’s names until his voice cracks, until his throat gives out, until all that comes out is a hoarse wheeze.
“Please,” he croaks. “Please, Ren. I did it. I admit it. I admit everything. Just don’t hurt them.”
His words tumble over each other. Messy. Broken.
“You already admitted everything,” I say calmly. “You just did it too late.”
My voice does not rise. It does not shake. That seems to scare him more than anything else.
I turn my attention to his wife.
She finally speaks.
“You are a monster.”
The word is sharp. Probably meant to hurt me.
I smile behind the mask.
“That is rich,” I say. “Coming from someone who helped sell out an entire operation for money.”
Her jaw tightens. Her hands curl into fists despite the binds.
She spits on the floor.
The sound echoes in the chamber.
Matteo snorts from behind me. “Classy.”
I glance down at the filth near my boots and wrinkle my nose slightly. More like disgusting. Once I get home, I will need to do some serious scrubbing.
“What are you going to do with us?” the wife asks.
Her voice is steady, but her eyes betray her. She is scared. She is just trying very hard not to show it.
I cock my head to the side, pretending to think. I tap a finger against my chin, slow and deliberate.
“Hm. Let’s see,” I say. “Dismember you and distribute your remains all over the city. Pour acid on you and flush what’s left down the toilet. Let my men have their way with you. The list is endless.”
The words hang in the air.
Mrs. Delacruz’s eyes widen in fear. The first real emotion I have seen on her face.
“You’ll never get away with this,” she says, schooling her features far too late.
I chuckle in amusement.
“But I already have, darling.”
Her head snaps up. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she growls.
“Be patient. You’ll find out soon enough, love.”
“Don’t call me that!” she snaps.
I ignore her.
I turn back to her husband, who is trembling now. His bravado is gone. Whatever spine he once had dissolved the moment his family was dragged into this room.
“Do you have any last words, Mr. Delacruz?”
He swallows hard. His eyes dart to the door. To his wife. To me.
“Don’t hurt my kids.”
The plea is pathetic.
“You love your kids so much,” I say slowly, “yet you cheat on your wife with someone much younger than she is. Disappointing.”
Silence crashes down.
Mrs. Delacruz’s eyes widen in shock.
“You bastard!” she screams. “You fucking bastard!”
She lunges forward as much as the restraints allow.
“I let you fuck me in my ass, and you still had the audacity to cheat on me! After everything I have done for you? Everything I have sacrificed?!”
Her voice cracks at the end. Rage. Humiliation. Hurt. All spilling out at once.
Delacruz sobs.
“Wow,” Matteo whistles softly.
I turn away.
I am done here.
We all head out, the guards following, the heavy doors slamming shut behind us. The screams start almost immediately. Not of pain. Of accusation. Of betrayal. Of something breaking beyond repair.
The sound fades as we walk down the corridor.
“What’s going to happen now?” Matteo asks casually.
I adjust my gloves. “He’ll be dead by tomorrow. Max. The binds on her wrists are not so tight. She will kill him.”
Matteo chuckles. “Letting the wife do the dirty work, huh?”
I shrug. “It’s better she does. There is no reason to waste my energy on that filth when I can use it for something else.”
“Which is?” He arches a brow.
From his look alone, I know he already knows the answer.
“We’re going after that rival gang that had the gall to bribe my employee and give the information to the military.”
“When?”
I stop walking.
I turn to face him.
“Tonight,” I say. “Assemble the men. I want them fully equipped and fully prepared. We need to send a message on a high scale. You mess with the Shadow, you get buried six feet under.”