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Daniel is Jacques’ bodyguard; he’s been with us the longest. Jacques found him when he was fresh out of military training, and he was all too happy to join us.

Very faint music fills the basement as Jac takes the rope from me and starts tying Aidan to the chair. His forehead has stopped bleeding now. Thank fuck. As much as I’d love to kill him for even attempting to lay eyes on Camila, we still need him alive.

A low groan sounds from the middle of the room.

“Good evening, Aidan. Fancy seeing you here again,” Jac chirps sarcastically, standing in front of him. Aidan groans in response. “Don’t sound too happy to see us,” he says, folding his arms.

Aidan’s eyes shoot open as his gaze pings around the concrete basement.

“Where am I?” he rushes out.

“That’s none of your concern. However, what I am concerned about is one of my men. You haven’t happened to see him, have you?” I ask, leaning my hands on the armrests of the chair he’s tied to, bringing my face closer to him. He trembles, pulling at his restraints.

Jacques moves to stand in the corner, next to the table filled with various torture instruments. I’m not one for making a mess. I hate it getting on me.

Jacques is usually the one who tortures; I’m more there for the intimidation. I prefer a clean bullet to the head, but like a lunatic, Jac prefers the more… personal approach. He's built like a unit, but he couldn’t pry a secret out of a toddler with a pack of Haribos.

“N-no. I don’t know what you’re talking about. The deal went through. My broker returned last night.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” I narrow my eyes on his blue ones, fear covering every inch of his face.

“Are we still inside the club?” he asks, head pointing towards the ceiling. He hisses as the light hits his eyes and attempts to bring his hand to his temple.

I huff out a laugh. “I’m not a very patient man today, Aidan. So, I will ask again, where the fuck is my broker?” Pulling my gun out, I press it into his already injured temple, making him whimper.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I swear,” he rushes out. “I received the money, and I thought it was a done deal.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing inside our club?” Jacques chimes in, grabbing a knife and slowly walking closer to him. Aidan’s eyes widen into saucers at the sight of it, but he doesn’t make any attempt to speak.

Jac slowly brings the knife closer to his leg. A drop of sweat trickles down onto the barrel of my pistol as Aidan pulls in panicked breaths.

“I’m here to see your dancer from last night,” Aidan rushes out. “Nothing else, I swear.”

My teeth grind to the point of pain, but I act no different on the outside.

“You have to believe me—I don’t know where your broker is,” Aidan repeats.

“You make a convincing liar, Aidan,” I condescend. “And you’ve pissed me the fuck off,” I snarl, pushing into the wound of his temple before retracting the weapon.

For a second, I consider shooting him. I’ve not been myself since last night, and he’s made my broker go missing. He dares show his face in my club to see the very reason I haven’t been myself, after I almost broke his arm, no less. She’s all I can think about. I stared at her picture all day, thinking that if I looked at it enough, I’d start feeling sick of it. But it’s having the complete opposite effect.

But we don’t know who he’s working with. Killing him could risk landing us in hot water, and I don’t need that shit right now.

“What if he’s working with the Dellers?” Jac says, not taking his eyes off Aidan.

“I’m not,” Aidan grits out.

“Why don’t I believe you?” I laugh, pushing further into his temple, his flesh squelching as the barrel rips open some of his skin.

“If you kill me, you’re dealing with them on your own,” he spits, anger clearly rising now.

I lean forward again. “I should kill you. But I won’t. You, my friend, are going to bring Max back to us safe and sound. If I see even a minor scratch on him, you’re dead, do you hear me?” I say, voice low. I shove my gun into his mouth, causing him to gag around it. “And if I see you in my fucking club again, I will hunt you down and rip out your throat. Am I clear?”

He frantically nods his head and coughs when I yank the gun out of his mouth.

“Good boy,” Jac laughs, patting him on the cheek.

“I’ll get Ezra and Daniel to take him out,” I state as I burst out of the basement. I take the private hallways to the back exit of the club and into fresh air.