Page 115 of Tyler's Rule
“You get one more chance,” Heretic said softly.
Salter stayed silent.
Heretic lurched and drove his fingers into the nerve at the base of Salter’s neck. Salter’s body locked. A strangled sound tore out of him as it looked like his muscles seized.
Heretic held it there. “Talk.”
Salter gasped against the disgusting floor. “Stop.”
Heretic didn’t. He reached for Salter’s hand. Almost softly, he caressed Salter’s index finger, the flesh mangled I guessed from previous chats.
The man shuddered, an awful sound of panic coming from deep inside him.
“If you answer,” I said, “he’ll let go. If you don’t, he might break that finger for a second time. Or maybe your spine.” I had no idea if that was true, but it sounded good.
Salter’s eyes snapped to mine. Rage burned there. “What do you want?”
“Why Austin?” I asked.
A pause. Another pulse of pressure from Heretic, though he left the fingers alone.
Salter gave another awful groan then broke. “He had routes,” he spat. “Legal routes. Inspected and expected. Nothing flagged. Nothing questioned.”
The words landed heavy. Not a monster. Not the architect. But not innocent either.
A truth I’d known but needed. I kept going. “Which gave you what, greater quantities? The ability to not rely on others?”
Salter snarled, “Why ask if you know the answers?”
“So you approached him.”
Salter gaped, pain creasing his features. “Jacobs did.”
“How did he know him?”
No answer. Heretic shifted his grip again.
Salter choked on a breath. “Marchant bought girls for business meetings, and they had some acquaintance in common. He said no, first time. Who are you to him?”
Behind me, I sensed Mila clinging to every word. She would hate how Austin paid for women as entertainment, but it was common for men of his type. And didn’t I know the consequence of that. I didn’t face her.
“So what changed?”
Salter tried to smile. “I’m going with granddaughter, even if you look like a porn star. You have his eyes. Work it out yourself if you’re so smart.”
Heretic laughed and adjusted his grip. “Answer her or this snaps.”
Salter jerked, a broken sound tearing free. “Pressure,” he bit out.
“From who?” I demanded.
Salter’s gaze locked on mine. “Nothing beats the peer pressure, does it?”
What did…? I worked it out.
“He means Austin’s friends,” Mila said in a low voice.
I nodded to her and turned back. “Jacobs approached others, too?”
