Marcel stepped out of the car into the abandoned warehouse district with cold purpose in his eyes.
His hired men had done their job well. The three debt collectors sat tied to metal chairs in the dim light, faces already bruised from the pickup. Marcel rolled up his sleeves slowly. The weight of the sledgehammer felt heavy in his hands but right.
"You came for my sister," he said quietly. "Now I came for you."
The leader of the group, a thick man with a scarred face, spat on the floor. "You think you are tough now with your fancy clothes? We will find you later."
Marcel ignored him at first and pulled out a thick stack of cash. Five thousand dollars. He dropped it on the dirty table in front of them. "You said my father owed money. Here is five thousand grand. We are even now. No more
