Page 125 of The Silencer

“Maybe we should send Anthony a little present, something to commemorate this little get together.”

He draws closer, and closer, and then he stops directly in front of me.

“He’s not going to find you, you know that, right? I’m going to take you apart piece by piece. By the time he figures it out, there will be nothing left.”

I can’t help the fear that flares through me. Oh my god, I’m going to die. I’m going to fucking die.

“Untie his hands and tie them to the chair. Now.”

Grape-head moves slowly, lumbering toward me and doing as Douglas asks. Once more, I strain against him, trying to fight, but grape-head has something I don’t. Strength.

I squirm when the shears press into my knuckle, the ring finger on my right hand. “Please don’t do this,” I plead unintelligibly through the gag. Please don’t.

“Tatum, I want you to know this. You won’t be found. We’re somewhere Anthony doesn’t know about. Even his little senator and friends in the FBI have no idea this place exists.”

He presses the shears deeper into my skin, blood pooling to the surface, and I squirm harder, trying to fight, but all I do is hurt myself more.

And then he snaps his teeth, the shears opening ominously.

“I think Anthony will really enjoy this, don’t you?”

And then he grabs on to my finger, lifts it slightly, and cuts it right off.

21

ANTHONY

It’s been an entire day. One fucking day since Tatum was stolen from me.

I haven’t slept. I have barely eaten. My mind is too focused on finding him, on bringing him home. I can’t think of anything else. I’m consumed by it, with a rage that is boiling inside of me.

This morning they delivered his finger in a box. Bane almost shot through the wall, howling with frustration when he saw what it was.

I could have murdered him in that moment.

Stupid, stupid man. I will never let him live this down. Thankfully he’s made himself scarce. I haven’t seen him since he rushed out, muttering something about knives, blowtorches, and kidneys.

I have no idea what he plans to do.

And I couldn’t care less. As long as he brings me Tatum back.

“Where the fuck is he!” I shout, my fists balled on my desk, my eyes flashing with frustration. “Where the fuck is he?”

“We’ve checked all their known properties. We have Robbie looking into it from the FBI side of things. But we just don’t know,” Luca says.

“That’s not good enough,” I hiss.

Sebastian leans against the fireplace, wearing a Mickey Mouse shirt with dark jeans, looking completely unbothered by this.

“I could help now, if you’d like.”

My gaze flashes up to him. “Now? And why the hell didn’t you answer my calls earlier?”

“I was at Disneyland. I wasn’t checking my phone. Trust me. I’d rather have been here. The screams of happiness…” he shudders.

I feel my heart squeeze, and I give him a clipped nod. To be honest, I was surprised he agreed to cut his vacation short and come at all. Apparently Tatum had quite the effect on his Matty.

He has that effect on everyone.