Max’s POV
“My brother doesn’t tolerate traitors, Angelo,” I called out, examining the vast amount of tools in front of me that were begging to be used.
The smell in this room was starting to get a bit ripe. These old factories that we used for interrogations and other nepharious means didn’t have any air conditioning, and the mix of blood, sweat and urine was becoming a little too much. I had been going at this for most of the day, and I was still no closer to answers. Someone had been feeding information on our drug and weapon deliveries for months. Our shipments were getting intercepted, it cost us a lot of money, and we had had enough. The suspect pool had been narrowed down to one, and I was tasked with finding out who he was working for and how much he had told them.
“I don’t know
