Chapter 947
Sully's agonizing screams echoed through the warehouse as the starving rats tore into his flesh. The heavy burlap sack muffled the worst of the gore, but the frantic thrashing and the horrifying sounds of ripping fabric and tearing skin painted a vivid picture of the nightmare happening inside.
Connor stood perfectly still, watching Sully's face contort into masks of unimaginable agony. Even Connor's hardened crew had to look away, their stomachs churning at the sheer brutality of the screams.
When it seemed Sully was on the brink of losing consciousness, Connor meticulously adjusted his shirt cuffs, rolling them down and buttoning them with slow, deliberate precision. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and stared at Sully with the cold detachment of an executioner. Inside the sack, Sully was gasping for air, his body spasming from the vicious bites and the highly infectious diseases carried by the feral rodents.
"Boss, I think he's had enough. He's gonna bleed out if we leave him in there," one of the crew members muttered nervously.
Connor exhaled a slow plume of smoke, letting it drift toward the ceiling, before sauntering over to Sully. "Ready to talk? Or do we find out what gives out first-your stubbornness or their teeth?"
Sully's eyes were rolling back in his head. Giving the signal, Connor ordered his men to drag the sack out into the sunlit courtyard. The moment they sliced the burlap open, the sudden blinding light sent the rats scattering in all directions.
What was left of Sully was a nightmare. He lay convulsing on the pavement. Knowing they needed him alive, Connor nodded to the crew's medic, who quickly jammed a syringe of adrenaline into Sully's thigh to stabilize his violently dropping heart rate.
Connor crouched beside him. "Now. Where is Felicia?"
Sully was still choking on his own spit, his eyes wide and unfocused.
"Boss, we need to get him patched up or we're looking at a murder charge," one of the guys warned, refusing to look at Sully's lower half. The man's legs were chewed to ribbons, but worse was his groin-it was mutilated from the waist down, the flesh flayed in a way that defied description.
A profound terror of Connor settled over the crew. They had always known him as a reckless, arrogant racer, but this calculating, ruthless monster was a completely different person.
Connor's ruthlessness wasn't born
of malice. It was fueled by the memory of the Everharts' butchered bodies and the haunting,
soul shattering screams of Leonie trapped in that hospital bed. If it weren't for these animals, Leonie would still be a bright, infocent girl. Her entire future had been obliterated by this filth. They deserved to die a thousand times over for breaking her.
Noticing his crew trembling, Connor shot them a chilling look. "What are you shaking for? You haven't crossed me. As long as you don't betray me, you have nothing to fear."
The men swallowed hard and nodded, their eyes darting back to Sully. The club owner was bleeding out fast. He needed emergency reconstructive surgery within the next twenty-four hours or he would be permanently crippled-in every sense of the word. Contént
Whimpering in agony, Sully finally broke. He begged for mercy between ragged gasps.
"Tell me where she is, and I'll call the ambulance right now," Connor promised smoothly. "I'll even make sure the cops don't get wind of this."
Sully knew giving up Felicia meant signing his own death warrant, but if he didn't speak now, he was going to die on this concrete floor, completely stripped of his manhood.