Luciano’s POV
The warehouse smelled of iron, oil and blood.
The two men were on their knees in the center of the concrete floor, stripped to their waists, wrists tied behind their backs. Bruises already colored their ribs and faces. One of them spat red onto the ground.
I stood a few feet away, hands in my coat pockets.
“Who sent you?” I asked calmly.
Silence.
One of them lifted his head slowly and looked at me through swollen eyes.
“I asked you a question.”
Still nothing.
Dagger stepped forward and struck one of them across the face with the butt of his gun. The crack echoed sharply in the hollow space.
The man fell sideways, groaning.
“Speak,” Dagger growled.
The second man laughed weakly, blood dripping from his lip. “You’re losing your grip, Cortez.”
I stepped closer.
“Yo
