"Kreeve Johnson," I repeat the name. Aside from the familiar surname, I don't know this Johnson. "Is that all you know?" I ask.
Sanders nods fast, eyes blown wide, breath fast.
"Okay," I start toward him, pulling out a silencer and placing it on the Glock casually.
"Wait, wait, I'll tell you," he says and I stop walking. "Please promise you won't kill me."
The sweet look of pleading makes me want to vomit. One, he sold human beings like livestock. Two, he sold children without caring what would happen to them. Yet here he is asking for mercy.
"Fine, I won't kill you, but only if you bare everything to me. The organization is already dead anyway, what do you have to fear?" I tell him calmly, like I'm not that pressed about anything.
He actually lets out a sigh. "Okay, okay, I'll tell
