Scarface’s expression twisted into anger, but it didn’t hide what Mattew could already see clearly now. Fear was sitting underneath it, heavy and obvious. Most of his men were already down, scattered across the warehouse floor, groaning in pain or lying completely unconscious. There was no backup left, no one coming to save him.
Mattew stepped closer, his footsteps slow and steady against the concrete.
He cracked his knuckles once, his eyes locked on Scarface. “You’re still not talking?” he asked calmly.
The man forced out a breath, trying hard to maintain whatever pride he had left.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” he spat.
Mattew nodded slowly, as if accepting the answer.
“Alright then.”
In one smooth motion, he grabbed a nearby metal chair and swung it. It wasn’t a clean hit to t
