“Shut the f**k up.” I slap him across his face. Not the wisest thing to do considering his condition, but I’m in a bad mood. “Listen to me carefully. You are going to die tonight. It can be quick, or I can make sure it’s extremely painful and long-lasting. Nod if you understand.”
He whimpers and nods, trying to pull out his hand from my grip. I swipe the scalpel and cut off another of his fingers, which results in another screaming fit.
“Who sent you to intercept us, and what were your orders?” I yell into his face.
“I don‘t know,” he chokes out. “Arben talked with the guy who paid for the job.”
“Who is Arben?”
He mumbles something and closes his eyes. It looks like the adrenalin isn’t working.
I slap him again. “I said, who is Arben?”
“The driver.”
One of the guys I shot.
