Chapter 88
Chapter 88
ADRIAN VALEHART
After Edgar and I left the company, it didn’t take long for one of his men to call.
They had something.
Or better—someone in their hands.
Edgar ordered them to grab that “certain” person and take them to a specific address. And so, driving like someone trying to win a race, I pushed the car to its limit. Even then, it took almost two hours to get there.
A property in the middle of nowhere.
An abandoned, decaying farm—but with something most people would never imagine existed there: a secret interrogation room.
A cold, silent place.
Perfect for ripping the truth out of people who thought they were too clever.
I glanced at Edgar as we walked in, guided by his men like some influential… dangerous figure.
He looked completely at home. He must have used that place often.
When we finally descended the stairs, the smell of mold and rusty blood was very intense in the air. The first thing I saw when I stepped on the last step was a man tied to a chair. He looked more like a trapped rat than a wolf. His eyes were wide, his lip was bitten, his nose was all bruised, and his wrists were purple from the struggle.
Edgar's men had done a good job there, indeed.
But then Edgar stepped forward. He didn't say a single word as he approached that insignificant being. All he did was pull his fist back and then... punch him hard in the face, throwing the man's head to the side and splattering more blood on the wall, which was already stained.
I stood there, just watching...
When Edgar was done, he wiped his bloody hand on his dark red jacket, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
In fact, it was his routine.
The man spat blood on the floor, trying to look tough. Pretending he wasn't terrified of what was coming next.
It was hilarious.
“I won't tell you anything, not a word,” he said, his voice faltering. “You can do whatever you want. I'd rather die here than at the hands of the person who hired me.”
Edgar let out a sinister laugh.
“Well... you're not going to die,” he replied, patting the bastard on the head, almost kindly. “But I can guarantee one thing: you're going to beg me for it.”
I approached Edgar, looking directly at the face of that piece of shit tied to the chair.
It wasn’t that I was enjoying any of this.
This cheap cruelty.
But it was necessary.
Every second standing here without answers was another chance for someone to get to Sofia.
And just the thought of it made my blood boil.
Edgar dragged a chair over, leaning his face close to the man’s.
''You know he'' Edgar pointed at me, ''Is now one of the participants. You know what that means, right?''
The man looked at me. Swallowed hard. Then tried to hide it.
''Then talk,'' Edgar pressed. ''Who took the girl?''
He shook his head.
Edgar punched him again.
He denied it again.
And again.
Even with the punches, even when the chair fell over, Edgar started kicking him until he vomited blood.
The clock kept ticking.
I was running out of time, out of patience, and seconds away from exploding.
Just thinking about Sofia—knowing it could be her on a chair like this… knowing that if I wasn’t fast enough, a bastard like this would go after her.
I shoved Edgar aside and let that rage loose.
First, I broke his arm. Then one of his legs. Edgar and his men just stood back and watched.
It didn’t take long for all that courage and resistance to evaporate, and the man began stuttering, choking on blood.
''I just… took her phone,'' he finally said, trembling.'' That’s it, shit! They told me to leave it in the apartment. I didn’t… I didn’t even talk to the boss directly. It’s all through contacts. Layers and layers of contacts…''
I closed my eyes, fighting the urge not to kill him right there.
I needed something—anything—a thread that could lead me to some damn face.
When I moved toward that mutt again, Edgar put a hand on my shoulder, seeing I was seconds away from losing all control.
“Let me take it from here... You're letting your feelings for her get the better of you,” he said.
Then he pulled me back.
And when I finally managed to look at myself closely... I realized that there wasn't a single spot on my clothes... my shirt, that wasn't dirty, stained to tell the truth...
I was literally...
I was covered in that guy's blood.
I took a few steps back, giving Edgar room.
Maybe he was right.