Page 71 of Emeric

“Did you bring your new knife? I didn’t have time to grab anything extra.” I had a gun on me that I always did, and a knife, but neither was an item my mom had given me. It would help if we had one weapon she’d gifted.

“Yeah, I grabbed it. I was mid-meditation when I got the call. It took me a minute to get grounded so I could move.”

“Meditations and weapons.”

Sheldon smiled. “And now we can draw some blood, or I can use one of my pretty poisons. I managed to bring a couple of good ones since I was already surrounded by them.”

“Only you.”

“I’m unique like that.”

We drove a bit longer and finally pulled up to a warehouse that Jordan owned, and none of the surrounding buildings were occupied, which he owned as well. Run-down and vacant was how this part of the city looked. Eventually, he might sell some of them to bring more growth. In doing so, he’d lose opportunities to use the buildings as we were today. No one would hear this guy scream when he was being pulled apart as blood ran from him.

Vehicle by vehicle, we parked and exited. Albert and Vincent took up positions near Jordan. Lane and Raiden did the same while Sheldon and I followed as we started walking. Albert hung back as he usually did to ensure no one bothered our vehicles. People might look at him and think little of him. He was older and well-dressed in a suit. He was as fit and capable as any of us. No one would expect him to lay them out or kill them, yet he could.

The warehouse was like the others Jordan owned. A mess on the outside and in, but it had plenty of empty space for us to do whatever we needed. People could cry all they wanted in here. No one was helping them. And if anyone decided to sneak up on us or Albert, there were cameras all around. Barry or one of the others would let us know if we had company.

In the middle of the floor, with his hands and ankles zip-tied, hair wet with sweat hung onto his forehead in dark strands, was a man. Blood caked on the corner of his lips, and his nose already appeared broken. None of us took care with the assholes we brought here.

Barrett and Reghan were in front of him. Blood was visible on Reghan’s knuckles.

“He insists he has no idea what I’m talking about when I ask about Lawson,” Barrett said. He’d interrogated enough people when he worked for the East Dremest Police Department. There were ways to get information out of people before we started cutting off appendages.

Jordan stepped up and pulled a knife from his pocket, opening it. He used it to lift the guy’s chin so he could see his eyes. “You know who I am?”

“Yes,” the guy said. His lip started to swell, so the word wasn’t as smooth as it should be.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“You think I’m someone I’m not.”

“Prove us wrong.”

“I don’t know who Lawson is,” he said. “I’m telling the fucking truth.”

“What about Emeric Saylor?”

“Doesn’t he own a hotel? I see him on the local news sometimes. Rich fucker.”

Jordan hummed. “And Sylvan?”

“Who?”

I’d had enough. I was over this game. If Lawson said this was the guy, then he was. The man didn’t make mistakes. It wouldn’t be the first or the last time we were lied to and tried to be convinced they were innocent. That was a typical story from the people we brought in.

“Did he have a phone on him?” I asked.

Reghan handed it to me while Jordan slowly cut into the guy to see if he would tell him anything. After giving me the password, since the guy already gave it up, I started going through the phone, social apps, anything. When I got to his photos, I found a screenshot of the safe house's address—Sylvan’s house—that was listed online. We didn’t think many people had it, but here it was plain as day.

“The fuck is this?” I asked the guy, holding the phone up to his face. “You know about this house.”

He scoffed. “Everyone does. You think that shit stayed buried? Screenshots last forever.”

“Why did you post it?”

“I don’t give a fuck about those forums. They’re just fun to go on to see shit like that.”

Jordan was done listening to this and drove the knife into the guy’s stomach. He howled in pain, tried to bend forward to curl into himself, but couldn’t because his hands were restrained behind him.