He spat again. "You're too late. The deal's done."
I tilted my head, and my eyes narrowed. "Then why are you still breathing?"
His silence was enough, and I punched him once, hard enough to drop him. He hit the wet ground, half-conscious, and mumbling Marco's name like it would save him.
Yuri walked up beside me. "You want him alive, boss?”
"For now." I pulled my gloves tighter, and blood mixed with rain. "Bring him to the warehouse. I want him to talk before sunrise."
Yuri whistled for the others, and two men lifted the body, dragging him to the van waiting by the fence. I stayed behind for a moment, staring at the puddle of blood mixing with rainwater and spreading like dark ink. The night felt too quiet, like the world had gone back to pretending nothing happened.
I lit a cigarette, and the flame trembled against the wind. The first drag burned hot in my throat, steadying my racing pulse.
I looked down at the broken man slumped in the mud; his face was barely recognizable now. "You picked the wrong side," I muttered.
The rain swallowed the words as I turned away, and smoke trailed behind me like a ghost. The night wasn't over. This was just the beginning.
The warehouse smelled of metal and dust, the kind of place where secrets were born and buried. A single light swung from the ceiling, throwing long shadows across the concrete floor. The lieutenant sat tied to a chair and soaked in blood and rain. His head hung low, breathing shallow.
Yuri stood behind him, his arms crossed, waiting for a signal. I walked in slowly, my steps echoing. The man's eyes fluttered open, and fear crawled in the dark between us.
"Wake up," I said quietly, tapping his cheek. "We're not done."
He groaned, spitting blood. "You think this scares me?"
I smiled coldly. "No, but the silence will."
I pulled up a chair and sat across from him, my piercing gaze on him. The air was heavy with the hum of the old bulb above us. "Tell me about the Italians," I said.
He blinked, confusion cutting through his pain. "What–what do you want from me?"
"The truth," I said. "Marco sent you to deliver something. What was it?"
He hesitated, and I nodded to Yuri, who stepped forward to hit him once, clean across his face. The sound was sharp and loud.
The man's head snapped to the side, and a tooth hit the floor. He coughed, and blood spilled from his mouth.
"I don't know–"
Yuri hit him again.
"Try harder," I murmured.
He shook, and sweat dripped from his temple. "It wasn't about weapons," he said finally, in a cracked voice. "It was about debt."
I leaned closer. "Debt?"
He nodded and trembled. "Marco... he made a deal with the Italians after the last shipment went wrong. He promised them a name in return for their silence."
My voice dropped lower. "Whose name?"
The man's eyes darted to the floor. "Giovanni."
The sound of that name hit like a bullet, and the air froze. I didn't move, and I didn't speak. Just watched him shake under the weight of what he'd said.
"Marco promised Giovanni as payment," he continued, and his words spilled now like a confession he couldn't stop. "Said the Italians would back off if they got him."
For a long moment, I said nothing. The bulb above buzzed louder, and I could hear the wind outside, whistling through the cracks of the door.
