Carol and his three lackeys lay helpless, crushed flat against the ground by Alistair and Johnson flanking them on both sides.
Every detail spilled from their lips without hesitation.
What choice did they have?
Stay silent, and Alistair and Johnson would grind their faces into the pavement.
Literally. Their exposed flesh was already scraped raw and bleeding.
This torture technique wouldn't kill them, but the agony was unbearable.
The burning pain was so fierce that even their bloodcurdling screams couldn't dull the fire under their skin.
All four scrambled over each other to confess, terrified of enduring another round if they hesitated too long.
——
Harold's POV
I leaned against the car door with Phoebe, our faces growing grimmer with each word from Carol and his crew.
Seeing Phoebe's jaw clench with fury, I couldn't help but smirk. "Looks like we've been too gentle, babe. They think we're all bark and no bite."
