Exton

I turn to look at Keon. "This is getting us nowhere," I say with a snarl. "I know what'll make this bastard talk."

Johnny is in my hand before either can react, and I lop off the shifter's little finger before he can move.

He howls, his eyes go wide, blood jetting from the stump. I pick up the finger and hold it tauntingly just under his eyes.

"This'll grow back if we just stick it back in place before the blood drains out." I hold it tantalizingly close to the stump, almost touching. The shifter's eyes are wide, pleading.

Then I snatch it back. "Or I could just eat it, " I suggest, holding it near my mouth as if to drop it in. "It'd be just like a Cheeto."

I slam Johnny within an inch of his wrist. "TALK!," I hiss, "Or I'll take you apart a piece at a time. Nothing, and I mean nothing Jean-Marc will do to you can match what I'll do, you miserable piece of shit. TALK!"