Greg's POV
The air in the basement was colder than before, the damp walls seeming to close in as I walked towards Dennis.
He was slumped in the chair, his face battered, blood dripping down his temple. He didn’t even lift his head when I entered.
I stopped in front of him, holding the picture of his wife and kids tightly in my hand.
My jaw was clenched, my patience hanging by a thread.
“Dennis,” I said, my voice sharp and clear.
He slowly raised his head, his swollen eyes barely able to focus on me.
“Greg,” he croaked, his voice rough. “Back again?”
“Yes,” I said, my tone cold. “And this time, you’re going to give me what I want.”
Dennis chuckled weakly, shaking his head. “You still don’t get it, do you? I’m not talking. Not to you or anyone else.”
I smiled, but there was no humo
