CHAPTER 24: UNSPEAKABLE TORTURE

Warning – there is some violence later, which may be uncomfortable for some readers. They are clearly marked, and you can skip to the next chapter if needed.

Zane guided me to a door and swung it open, revealing an observation room—similar to a cold, clinical setup of a police interrogation chamber.

“Wait here,” he instructed in that detached, professional tone. “I’ll bring them in, question them first, then you can take over. Who do you want to start with?”

“Since you’re leading, you choose the order. I’ll listen to their answers before deciding how to approach them.”

With a nod, Zane left, returning moments later with Anastasia in tow on the other side of the glass. She was a mess—hair tangled, makeup streaked, her once-elegant dress now stained and torn. Despite her disheveled appearance, she didn’t look starved or dehydrated. Just broken.

The moment she was cuffed to the chair, her pleas turned desperate. “Please, let me go! I didn’t do anything!

Zane ignored her cries, his expression blank. “Anastasia, your answers will determine what happens next.”

“Anything, Alpha! I’ll tell you everything!” Her voice trembled with false hope.

“How often do you visit the pack house?”

A relieved exhale. “Twice, sometimes three times a day—breakfast, lunch, sometimes to see you or the others. The Omegas let me know if you’re busy.” Her posture relaxed, her gaze steady. Truth.

“And how often do you interact with the Omegas?”

Ooh, I see where this is going, you clever man. A faint chuckle echoed in my mind through the link.

“Every time I’m there. At least one, sometimes more.” Still truthful.

Then came the shift. No question this time—a statement. “I’ve been told you forbid the Omegas from seeing the pack doctor for injuries. Explain.”

Her hesitation was immediate. “A-Alpha, I only said they had to finish their tasks first, then they could go on break. I’d never deny them care!”

She was a little slow at first, trying to come up with a lie, then when she found a reasonable one, she tried to sound like she cared about the Omegas. You couldn’t fool me; her body language screamed lie.

Lie, I thought to myself.

“Care to explain?” asked Zane.

Shit, I thought that was to myself. Her body betrayed her—shifting eyes, tense shoulders, twitching nose, the sweat beading at her temples. She scrambled for a convincing lie, but I saw right through it. Pathetic. I listed off all the telltale signs of a lie.

Zane remained stone-faced as I listed her tells through the mind-link. Without missing a beat, he moved on. “Now, the pups.”

Zane oved on, letting her think she got away with lying.

“W-What about them?” Her relief was short-lived.

Zane’s voice turned dangerously casual. “You know how we feel about harming pups. You saw what happened to the last Gamma who touched one. So tell me—why did you betray us? Why kidnap them?”

The look on her face told the world she knew she fucked up. It made me smile.

She paled, fingers twitching. “A-A-Alpha, I d-don’t know w-what you’re t-talking about.”

“We know everything.” His calm shattered as he slammed his hands on the table. “The abuse. The broken arm. The kidnapped pups. The tip to the humans. STOP LYING,” Zane yelled the last couple of words. I have never seen him lose his composure and yell or be out of control like this.

Anastasia crumbled. “I did it for you!” she sobbed. “I should’ve been Luna! I helped this pack when Neo was in charge—I kept them safe! And then you rejected me!” Her voice twisted with rage. “I love you! I did this for you!”

I couldn’t hold back—laughter erupted from me, sharp and mocking. Tears spilled as I wheezed, barely catching my breath.

That’s the dumbest excuse I’ve ever heard, and I have heard a few good ones. That one is the winner. I told Zane, still cackling.

The corner of his mouth twitched, just out of her sight.

Zane moved with deliberate precision, the click of the cuffs releasing the only sound in the suffocating silence. Anastasia flinched as the metal bracelets fell away, her wrists raw and red. Before she could react, his hands clamped around her arms, hauling her up like a puppet with its strings cut. She stumbled, her voice breaking—pleas, denials, desperate excuses spilling from her lips. He didn’t answer. Just dragged her toward the door, her shoes scraping against the concrete as she fought for balance.

The door slammed shut behind them.

Minutes later, it opened again with a groan. This time, Ortiz was the one being shoved inside, his body hitting the chair with a force that sent it skidding backward. Before he could lunge up, Zane was on him—cold steel circled his wrists, the cuffs locking with a final, metallic snick.

Just like Anastasia.

Only Ortiz didn’t beg. He just stared, unblinking, as Zane stepped back.

“I would say talking to you is pointless since Anastasia already told us everything, but my brothers insisted I see if you’d lie and dig yourself an even deeper grave,” Zane lied. Ortiz’s glare flicked toward the door like he was imagining murdering his own daughter.

“Fuck all of you. I protected you from Neo, helped you become Alpha, and this is my thanks?”—Slap. Zane struck him hard, the crack echoing. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“How did Valentine reach you? Is he running this little scheme?” Zane’s tone was flat, as if discussing paperwork with an irritating colleague.

Ortiz sneered. “I’m not telling you shit, Alpha.”

Zane’s fist snapped out, connecting with his jaw.

Laughing through bloody teeth, Ortiz taunted, “That the best you’ve got, Almighty Alpha?”

Warning – contains violence. You can skip to the next chapter.

Zane’s lips curled, slow and cruel. He seized Ortiz’s pinkie—snap. The scream was delicious.

“Start talking,” Zane said as Ortiz writhed. “Or I’ll make the next one worse.”

Pussy, I mentally tossed at Zane. He choked on a laugh, then schooled his face back to icy calm.

“Last chance. Anything to say?” Zane sighed, like this was tedious.

Ortiz spat in his face. The punch that followed shattered his nose—crunch. Zane and I grinned at the sound.

Maybe he won’t run when he sees my inner monster, I said to myself.

Zane caught my eye through the glass, his smile startlingly tender. “Mi alma, I had the same fear.” His voice softened. “but now I know. This is why the Moon Goddess paired us together. Our monsters match,” Then, without missing a beat, he snapped Ortiz’s ring and middle fingers. Another howl.

Ortiz finally snarled, “That damn girl never knew when to shut her mouth.”

And then—I heard it. That rough, rolling Scottish brogue.

Fuck. He’s Gruffy. My growl ripped through the room. Zane frowned, momentarily lost.

Barely thinking, I tore my door open and stalked the few steps to Zane’s room. I didn’t knock—just drove my boot into it, sending it crashing against the wall with a sound like a gunshot. Ortiz flinched, but I was already moving.

I crossed the room in three strides, locked my hand in his hair, and wrenched his head back into the wall. His skull cracked against it, and he slumped, unconscious before he hit the floor.

The scent hit me then—bourbon and that same cloying aftershave. Familiar. Disgusting.

“My turn,” I said, voice low and lethal. “Bring me Anastasia.” My gaze flicked to Ortiz’s limp body, then back to Zane. Leaving no room for arguments.

Zane hesitated—just for a breath—before vanishing into the hall. When he returned, he dragged Anastasia behind him, shoving her into a chair and buckling the restraints. He reached for Ortiz’s body.

“Leave him.” My command cracked through the room. “Answers come first.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Anastasia’s screech scraped against my eardrums.

Zane paused at the threshold, fingers curling around the door handle. Without turning, he said, “The last person you want to lie to.” Then, over his shoulder, with quiet, vicious pride: “Oh—and she’s my true Luna.”

The door slammed. Anastasia’s screamed about whatever the fuck, I didn’t listen or care.

None of it mattered now. Only the truth would.

I stepped behind Anastasia and drove my thumbs into the base of her skull, then flicked two fingers against the hollow behind her jaw and a few other places. She jerked against the restraints.

I’d learned these pressure points in the dark, between interrogations in a Russian black site. They’d carved the knowledge into me with knives and electricity. Between jobs, I expanded my knowledge. Now I wielded it better than they ever had.

I can literally make people my puppets.

The set of pressure points that I activated is a unique set that only I know because I am the one who created them.

“What the fuck—get your hands off me!” Her voice frayed into a snarl—until her muscles locked mid-breath. A choked gasp. Then stillness.

Good.

Ortiz was next. I hauled him upright, his deadweight slumping into the chair as my fingers found the same nerve clusters. A twist under his collarbone, a strike to the occipital ridge—his eyelids flew open.

I looked away into a corner. I exhaled, slow, and let the numbness swallow me whole. When I turned back, my reflection stared out from his cracked glasses—something hollow, something soulless. He flinched as I straightened the frames with eerie gentleness.

“These pressure points,” I said, circling them, “are calibrated to truth. Lie to me, and your nervous system will treat it like a betrayal.” My shadow fell across Anastasia’s frozen face. “Scream all you want. No one’s coming.”

Ortiz’s throat bobbed. Anastasia’s pupils dilated.

I smiled. “Let’s begin.”

I turned to Ortiz, my voice cold and methodical. “Did you help your daughter kidnap the pups?” Simple yes-or-no questions worked best—less room for evasion, quicker results.

“No,” Ortiz gasped. Then his denial dissolved into a scream, louder and more ragged than when his fingers had been broken.

“Good. Now that we’ve know it works, let’s move on. How does Valentine contact you?”” I circled behind him, my fingers brushing his ear—just a flick—and he convulsed, another cry tearing from his throat.

“It’s fascinating, really,” I mused, watching his pain with clinical detachment. “The sensation is like burning alive while being electrocuted. Every nerve on fire, every muscle seizing. And for a few minutes afterward, his skin stays hypersensitive.” My lips curved into a smile. “That little touch? It reignites the agony. Resets the clock.”

To prove the point, I dragged my knuckles over his groin. His scream was raw, animalistic. “Feel that? From the tip of his cock to his spine and everything in between,” I said, glancing at Anastasia with a smirk. My expression held no remorse—only amusement at her horror.

Once Ortiz’s breathing steadied, I leaned in. “Let’s try again. How does Valentine contact you?”

“Fuck you, bitch!” he snarled—before his body arched, his scream deafening this time.

I closed my eyes, savoring the sound, then opened them with a cruel grin. “Ah, I should clarify. This little trick doesn’t just punish lies. Half-truths count. Silence counts.” My gaze flicked to Anastasia. “So you’d better answer fully. And honestly.”

Ortiz spat blood, then hissed, “A burner… a burner phone.”

Anastasia jerked forward. “Dad, don’t tell this bitch anythi —!” Her protest choked into a shriek as the same agony took her

“There we go,” I said, chuckling. “I bet that’s going to shut you up really quick.” Turning back to Ortiz, I tilted my head. “See? That wasn’t so hard. Now—where’s the phone?”

“My house,” he panted. “In the desk… top left drawer. Locked.”

“Good boy.” My voice was smooth, patronizing. “Now. The full story. Start to finish. No omissions, no half-truths—or you know what happens.”

“They’ll kill me,” Ortiz rasped—then screamed again as the pain flared for his defiance. When he finally sagged, whimpering, I crouched in front of him, meeting his bloodshot eyes.

“Sweetheart, you’re not walking out of here alive. The only choice is how much you suffer before the end.” My fingers tapped his knee, playful. “So—who reached out first? What was the deal? When did Anastasia get involved? And why twelve pups? Details, Ortiz. Every last one.”

“I was at a bar, drinking until I was drunk,” he panted, struggling to steady his breath. “I started complaining about the pup Alphas, and Valentine came up to me. He asked if I wanted revenge—of course, I said yes. All he wanted in exchange was twelve of our pack’s pups. He promised to cover our tracks, leaving no trail back to us. He even gave us a drug to erase their memories so they’d never remember who took them.”

“How did he cover your tracks?” I demanded, barely holding back my rage.

“They had a potion that masked our scent. Unless someone saw or heard us, it was like we were never there.” He swallowed hard. “Valentine said he’d make me Alpha. After all the suffering I endured under Neo, protecting this pack—”

"You? Suffered?" I snarled, cutting him off. “You tortured women to feed your twisted desires. Monsters like you don’t deserve to lead.”

“You’re wrong!” he spat, fury twisting his face. “I’m the one who deserves to be Alpha, not those four worthless pups!”

In an instant, I seized his arm—right between the elbow and wrist—and slammed it against the sharp edge of the armrest. The snap of bone was brutal, deliberate. His scream filled the room as his forearm shattered beneath my grip.

“Insult my mates again,” I said, voice ice-cold, “and I’ll break more than just bones. I’ll start tearing things out.”

“Tearing things out?” Anastasia repeated, equal parts shocked and intrigued.

Big mistake, princess. I turned to her, lips curling into a vicious smirk.

“Yeah, like this,” I said, sliding a thin blade from my holster. In one swift motion, I sliced into Anastasia’s inner arm, just above the elbow.

Her scream ripped through the air as I dug my fingers inside, wrapping them around the muscle. With a sharp tug, I wrenched it free and tore it in half, careful to avoid major arteries.

Anastasia’s mistake was looking down. The second she saw the ruin of her own flesh, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed. I grabbed smelling salts, cracked them under her nose, and watched as she jolted awake, gasping.

“Any other questions?” I asked coolly, like an instructor mid-lesson—not that she could hear me over her own sobbing.

“Any other questions?” I asked coolly, like an instructor mid-lesson—not that she could hear me over her own sobbing.

“Magnificent,” Zane murmured from behind the glass, his voice thick with awe. I flashed him a grin and a wink before turning back to Ortiz, who had finally stopped crying.

I gave him a look—Continue. Or you’re next.

“P-please,” he begged, “don’t hurt her.”

I didn’t answer. Just held his gaze until he understood.

He swallowed hard and went on. “I only took the pups who were alone. They knew me—trusted me. It was easy. I promised them a new PlayStation… a shopping trip… told them their parents had already said yes. Once we were far enough, I drugged them. Five minutes to get them to the car. Then straight to the facility.” He paused, panting.

Oh, hell no. My grip tightened. Tricking kids—using their trust like that—was unforgivable.

“Cut him,” Cece ordered.

So I did.

The knife plunged into his thigh. I twisted, slow and deliberate, then dragged the blade downward in a jagged tear until it lodged just above his knee. I left it there, steel glinting under the blood.

“Continue,” I said, my voice a silent vow of slaughter.

“I’ve told you everything!” he wailed. “Why?”

“Because you used them,” I snarled. “Of course a monster like you would sell children. Just like you abuse the women in this pack.” I tapped the knife’s hilt, watching him flinch. “Now—last chance.”

He whimpered. “Anastasia caught me taking one of the girls. Threw a fit because I wouldn’t take her. I lied, said I’d bring her later. When we got back, she badgered me until I told her everything. She wanted in. Said if the Alphas lost everything… they’d turn to her.”

“I get it,” I mused, circling Ortiz like a predator savoring its prey. “You thought if the pack lost faith in the Alphas to find the pups, they’d turn to you instead. And if you ‘found’ them… well, Alpha status guaranteed.”

He gave a slow, desperate nod as if to say ‘yes, yes, it could have worked.’

“Except your plan had more holes than a skinned wolf left for crows,” I said, watching his hope shrivel. “First, the pack would immediately suspect you. If the Alphas couldn’t track the pups, how the hell did you? Suspicious as fuck. And second—” I leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper—“what if the memory drug failed? What if just one pup remembered your face?”

His breath hitched. He hadn’t considered that.

“Aw,” I cooed, mock-pity dripping from my words. “The only way out would’ve been to kill them. Bring back their little corpses and play the grieving hero. ‘Too late, but I tried!’” His eyes lit up—yes, that was the answer—until I crushed him again. “Except then they’d hate you for hiding the truth. For not working with the Alphas. So really… you lose either way.” I shrugged. “Continue.”

Ortiz’s jaw clenched, fury and humiliation warring in his expression. When he refused, pain lanced through him—full-body, bone-deep—until he gasped out, “Valentine called… wanted the last two pups. After that, I didn’t know their plans. Only he contacted me.”

“Good boy,” I purred. “No more questions… for now.” I winked. The sharp stench of urine filled the air.

Satisfied, I turned to Anastasia, her skin waxy from blood loss. “Anything to add?”

“Fuck you,” she spat—then screamed as I tightened the belt-tourniquet around her ravaged arm.

“She’s an idiot,” Cece muttered.

“Can’t let her die yet,” I told Zane, securing the strap. “She owes Cece pain. And answers.”

“Just make them suffer,” Cece growled. Zane’s chuckle was dark, approving.

Anything for you, mi alma, I answered my wolf, borrowing my mates’ endearment. Then, to Zane: Can we shift after this? I need to see Cece.

His voice softened, a stark contrast to the blood on my hands. “Yes, mi alma. Anything for you.”

Last question. “Why twelve?”

Ortiz shuddered. “I don’t know. They just… wanted that number.”

“How helpful,” I deadpanned. “Thank you for your honesty.”

“Now for their punishment…” I let the words hang, glancing through the window asking both Cece and Zane.

“I’ll leave that to you,” Zane said, a dark amusement in his voice. “Something tells me you’ll dream up horrors I wouldn’t dare.”

Our monsters match, I reminded myself.

“How many days passed between the first pup and the last?” The question was deliberate—they’d soon learn why.

“About five months,” Ortiz muttered.

“Exact dates.” My tone left no room for refusal.

“First was January 12th. Last was June 27th.”

I did the math. “166 days.” A slow smile curled my lips. “Fortunately, the human body has 206 bones.” I tapped my chin, feigning contemplation.

If you’d rather not watch, now’s the time to leave. I told both Cece and Zane.

“Our monsters match,” Zane said simply.

“Here’s how this works,” I explained, circling them. “You’ll suffer for every day those pups were gone. 166 breaks. 166 cuts. 166 burns. Plenty of bones, skin, and muscle to choose from.” I tapped my fingers together. “Now… where to begin?”

“That’s not fair!” Anastasia shrieked. “We didn’t hurt them!”

“Looks like Anastasia volunteered to go first,” I told Zane.

I crouched before her, seizing her left foot. One hand locked around her arch, the other above her ankle. Then—crunch. A brutal twist, tendons snapping like overstretched wire. Her scream was a symphony.

“Stop! Take me instead—just leave her alone!” Ortiz begged, tears carving tracks through the blood on his face.

Rage ignited in my veins. I surged to my feet, my voice a blade against his throat: “Did you care about the children you stole? The ones who cried for their parents? No. So why should I care about your worthless spawn?” The realization hit me like a gift. “Since you love her so much… we’ll torture you together.”

Calm settled over me. Instructional, almost gentle, I said, “You have to twist after the break—snap the tendons for maximum damage.” Demonstrated on her other ankle. Another scream.

I worked methodically—fracturing bones, slicing deep enough to hurt but not to kill. The bones I chose were painful, but not the worst. Yet. I dialed up their pain receptors, amplifying every injury tenfold.

Anastasia blacked out at number 33. Ortiz lasted longer.

“You’ve surprised me,” I admitted at break 83. “That’s rare.”

He laughed, blood bubbling between his teeth. “You’re weak. Needing knives… bones… pathetic.”

Wrong answer. I freed him so he could fight back.

I shut off the pain receptors—let him feel only me. My fists became his world. Three brutal strikes to each target—face, chest, stomach, arms—until his muscles were pulp, his bones dust beneath his skin. One eye burst like overripe fruit.

Finally, the pain was too much. Ortiz collapsed, unrecognizable. Broken bones, swelling muscles, one eye ruptured. I paused. Tended their wounds just enough to keep them alive.

Zane never entered. I didn’t even know if he’d stayed to watch.

What have I done?