Leah's POV
Brad's blood smelled like rust and regret. It pooled beneath my boots, seeping into the cracks of the warehouse floorboards as I circled him. The ropes binding him to the chair creaked - not from his struggling anymore, but from the tremors running through his body. Fear had a way of making even meaty men like him brittle.
"You're wasting my time," I said, dragging the tip of a fish knife along the edge of a frozen cod. The screech split the air like a promise. "Twenty years. Twenty years you let that rot fester. And now you think shaky denials will save you?"
He jerked his chin up, sweat gluing his collar to his throat. "I know who you are... You're the girl who was with Liam earlier this morning..."
"That's not an answer to my question." I backhanded him. The crack of my hand against his cheekbone echoed louder than his whimper. A tooth skittered across the floor. Clink, clink, clink. Music to my ear.
I crouched until our faces leveled, close enough to taste his panicked exhales. His left eye was swelling shut, a plum-colored badge of my impatience. "Start with your father. Start with the loans."
"My father didn't..."
The knife found the soft hollow beneath his jaw. A warning prick. Blood welled, hot and obedient.
The cold storage was freezing, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones and made you forget what warmth felt like. Brad's face pale and slick with sweat. His eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape that didn't exist. I stood in front of him, my shadow stretching long and menacing across the cracked concrete floor.
"Brad," I said, my voice low and steady. "You're going to tell me everything. And if you lie, even once, I'll make sure you regret it."
He laughed, a shaky, nervous sound that didn't reach his eyes. "You're not serious, right? This is just a misunderstanding..."
I stepped closer, my boots clicking against the floor. "Don't," I interrupted, my voice sharp as the blade in my hand. "Don't insult me by pretending this is some kind of misunderstanding. I know what you are. I know what your family did. And I'm not here to play games."
His laughter died in his throat, replaced by a grimace. "What do you want from me?"
"The truth," I said, leaning in so close I could see the fear flickering in his eyes. "Start with the Cosa family. Start with what your father did."
He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I don't know what you're talking about. I know Liam must have told you something..."
I smiled, a cold, merciless smile. "Wrong answer."
I grabbed his wrist, twisting it until I heard the sharp crack of bone. He screamed, the sound echoing off the walls. I let go, stepping back to watch him writhe in pain.
"Try again," I said, my voice calm, almost conversational.
"You're insane," he gasped, clutching his broken wrist.
"Maybe," I said, shrugging. "But you're the one who's suffering. So, I'll ask one more time. What did your father do?"
He hesitated, his eyes darting to the door as if hoping someone would burst in and save him. No one would. I'd made sure of that.
"Twenty years ago," he began, his voice trembling, "my father, Thomas, helped the Cosa family. They were exploiting lax gun laws and loopholes in cross-border fund flow regulations. They worked with the Cuban gang, the Bay Hawks, to run high-interest loans and casinos."
I nodded, encouraging him to continue. "Go on."
"Albert Cosa, the patriarch, made a fortune, but he wanted to legalize the business. So, he approached Carlo, Liam's father. Carlo controlled the largest fish distribution center on the East Coast. He had the supply chain from the Caribbean to the Gulf of Mexico. But he refused to help them launder money. He hated the mafia."
"Why?" I asked, my voice sharp.
"Because they manipulated unions and used casinos to clean their dirty money. And because his son Liam was abused by Darryl and his brothers at the pier."
"What do you mean?"
"Carlo used to be a fisherman. He built up his business empire single-handedly from scratch. He sent his son Liam to work at the pier, just like he used to do when he was young. So Liam was working there, lifting and scalping. Nobody knew he was Carlo's son..."
Human beings have the weirdest way to raise up their cubs. I thought to myself.
Brad kept on going, "Liam has always been a standup kid. He would always stand up against bullies like Darryl and his brothers. That's why they hated him and bullied him. When Carlo learned what happened to Liam, he was mad. So he was actually helping the FBI investigate Cosa family..."
"He found something." I frowned.
"Yes... He found evidence that they were smuggling totoaba bladders from the Gulf of California to the Sino-Vietnamese border."
"What?"
"Totoaba. It's a type of fish. Single adult totoaba bladders fetch $85 grand per killo on the black market. It's fucking ocean cocaine, if you know what I mean."
I felt a surge of anger, hot and blinding. "And then?"
Brad's voice dropped to a whisper. "They had no choice but to silence him. Faked an explosion... fishing accident, took over his fish market, and forced Liam to repay debts that didn't exist."
I stared at him, my chest heaving with rage. "You knew. All this time, you knew."
He shook his head frantically. "I was just a kid! I didn't have a choice!"
"You had a choice," I snarled. "You could've told the truth. You could've stopped them. But you didn't. You let them destroy a young man's life."
"Please," he begged, tears streaming down his face. "I'll do anything. Just let me go."
I stepped back, my mind racing. The truth was out, but it wasn't enough. Brad deserved to suffer, just like Liam had suffered.
"You're pathetic," I said, my voice dripping with disdain. "You're not even worth my time."
I turned and walked toward the window, leaving him trembling on the floor.
I heard him call out, his voice desperate.
"Please wait! You can't leave me here!"
I paused, glancing over my shoulder. "Watch me."
I shifted into a wolf, turned my head around, and stared at him over my shoulder.
As I snarled and exposed my fangs, he was so frightened that he rolled his eyes as he was hit by a stroke.
"Wolf... Wol...!" As he screamed, he peed his pants before passing out.
I broke the window and jumped out of it.
The salty breezing was bitting my face. I didn't look back. I didn't need to.
One down. More to go.