Page 82 of Vandal Unbound

But maybe the lesson is that while the pain doesn’t last, the fear does.

“Can you get me some pliers?” I ask Havoc.

Havoc moves to the tool rack and grabs me a pair.

Cristian tries to shuffle away from me in his chair, but he has nowhere to go. His eyes go wide as I reach for his pinkie finger and begin to bend it backwards.

“You know what Alvarez gets wrong?” I say, as if I’m discussing the weather.

“Wha…Wha...What?”

“He thinks fear only works in one direction.”

I open the pliers, grip his pinkie finger hard, and snap it backwards.

The scream echoes around the room.

I release his hand, then lean forward, placing my lips next to his ear. “They may have dropped my ass, but at least I didn’t scream like a baby.”

It takes twenty minutes for Cristian to start singing like a canary.

We get drug routes and collection crews and safe houses. We get the names of lieutenants. Everything.

North records the interrogation on his phone. Ballsy move. But we need a record.

The amount of information is ridiculous, except…

“Wait. Why does a low-level guy know all this shit?” I ask.

Cristian shakes. Five broken fingers will do that to you. I currently have the sixth in the pliers.

Knox puts his hand on my shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“Putting a plant in an MC is a big deal,” I say. “Very high risk for high reward. You send your best. Someone keen to prove their value to the organization. Maybe has a bit of a death wish. And that’s not this guy.”

Havoc holds out Christian’s phone. “What’s the pin?”

He wouldn’t tell us earlier, but now he’s in agony. “I’m dead if I tell you.”

Knox shrugs. “Hate to break it to you, kid. But you’re dead if you don’t.”

Sunny laughs, the crack breaking through the storage building.

“Two, eight, nine, three, five, two,” he says.

But something Knox says jogs something in my brain.

Kid.

“You’re someone important’s son, aren’t you.”

“Fuck you,” Cristian spits through tears.

I move the pliers to his ear, and he fights something feral. But Knox steps behind him and clamps his palms around his head, holding it steady so I can grip the soft fleshy lobe of his ear.

“Alright, alright. Mateo Alvarez is my uncle.”

Havoc’s mouth opens. “Guys, we got the motherlode. Alvarez is in his contacts. Home address. Current plans. Everything.”