As if sensing my thoughts, the teenager begins to blubber. “Please don’t do this, man,” he begs, sobbing. “I didn’t do nothing! I swear, I didn’t do nothing—”

“Shut up.” I stare at him, letting the anticipation build. “Do you know why you’re here?”

He shakes his head. “No! No, I swear,” he babbles. “I don’t know nothing. I was in this club, and there was this girl, and I don’t know what happened ’cause I just woke up in this warehouse, and I didn’t do nothing—”

“You didn’t touch the girl in the yellow dress?” I cock my head to the side, twirling the knife between my fingers. I know exactly how cats feel when they play with mice; this kind of thing is fun.

The young man’s eyes widen. “What? No! Fuck, no! I swear, I didn’t have nothing to do with that! I told Sean it was a bad idea—”

“So you knew they were going to do it?”

Instantly realizing what he’s admitted to, the boy starts babbling again, tears and snot running down his battered face. “No! I mean, they don’t ever tell me nothing until they do it, so I didn’t know! I swear, I didn’t know until we were there, and they said to watch the door, and I told them it’s not fair, and they said I should just do it, and then this other girl came, and I told her to go away—”

“Shut up.” I press the sharp edge of the knife against his mouth. He falls silent instantly, his eyes white with fear. “All right,” I say softly, “now listen to me carefully. You’re going to tell me where your cousin Sean eats, sleeps, shits, fucks, and whatever else he does. I want a list of every place he might ever visit. Got it?”

He gives a tiny nod, and I move the knife away. Immediately, the boy starts spewing out names of restaurants, clubs, underground fighting gyms, hotels, and bars. I use my phone to record all that, and when he’s done, I smile at him. “Good job.”

His cracked lips quiver in a weak attempt at an answering smile. “So now you’re going to let me go, right? ’Cause I swear I didn’t have nothing to do with that.”

“Let you go?” I look down at the knife in my hand, as if considering his words. Then I look up and smile again. “Why? Because you betrayed your cousin?”

“But… but I told you everything!” His eyes are showing white again. “I don’t know nothing else!”

“Yes, I know.” I press the knife against his stomach. “And that means you’re useless to me now.”

“I’m not!” he begins yelling. “You can ransom me! I’m Jimmy Sullivan, Patrick Sullivan’s nephew, and he’ll pay to have me back! He will, I swear—”

“Oh, I’m sure he will.” I let the knife’s tip dig in, enjoying the sight of blood welling up around the blade. Tearing my eyes away from it, I meet the young man’s petrified gaze. “It’s too bad for you that his money is the last thing I need.”