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Kane glanced down at the bound ginger, chuckling to himself when the lad finally decided to open his eyes. “Well good morning, sunshine.”
It seemed as though Mickey wasn’t too thrilled to be bound to the chair, and began to thrash around. As if Kane was stupid enough to allow there to be any give in the straps. “Let me out! Paddy is going to-”
“Your very Paddy was the one that gifted you to me, so shut your fucking mouth and get it in that thick head of yours,” Kane snarled in response, opening up a folder and reading through it. “Michael Miller. Scrappy little fuck Northern England with an affinity for causing trouble. Patrick Cole took you into his loving arms and decided to use you for whatever the hell it is you are good at.” He tossed the file back onto the table and waited to see what the little shit would do.
The betrayal in Mickey’s eyes, the incessant shaking of the head and the way his chest heaved with shallow breaths. “No, you’re wrong. Paddy wouldn’t do that to me! I’ve done everything he’s asked. He’s proud of me! I know he is! He wouldn’t sell me!”
Kane laughed and strolled up to Mickey, gripping him by the hair and pulling hard so he could lock eyes with him. Such pretty blue eyes. A shame they are going to have to cry for him at some point. “You thought you were sold? No, I said ‘gifted’. You weren’t worth a damn, so you were free. I didn’t have to go into debt, feel the need to compensate Patrick, or anything of the sort. You are the gutter rat; some second-hand ruffian that landed on my plate to deal with.” He leaned in close with a grin. “I can give you worth, but you have to earn it.” He pulled a combat blade from pocket, tapping it against Mickey’s cheek.
“N-no… you’re lying!” Bits of rage with sadness and whatever other emotion Kane didn’t have the time to look into were visible in Mickey.
With a sigh, Kane flicked his blade, a deep cut into Mickey’s face replacing an angry shout to a scream. “It’s okay. You are deluded with the fake concept of love and ownership Patrick had over you. I am confident you’ll catch on soon enough. For now? I think I want to hear more of this-” He dug the blade into Mickey’s shoulder, happily letting the blood work its way through the white of his shirt.
He wondered how long it would take for Mickey to break. He was going to savor each moment of it.