“Me and Ali gave him a kicking before chaining him up.” Hassan shrugged.
Ali was his right-hand man, someone else I hardly ever saw.
I picked up the serrated knife and stabbed it straight into Sami’s chest to wake him up. He let out a sharp cry as he panted, trying to suck as much oxygen in as possible.
“Do you know who I am?” I asked him.
He nodded.
“Then you know why I’m here.”
He shook his head.
“So it wasn’t you driving the van that nearly killed Hayden and me?”
“No,” he breathed out, sweat dripping down his face.
“And working with Dante wasn’t you either?”
He shook his head again.
I turned to face Hassan, grinning. “Did you get the wrong guy?”
Hassan let out a silent laugh.
“It wasn’t me,” Sami gasped, fighting through the pain he was in.
I turned to face him again and placed my hand on the knife’s handle. “The thing is, Hassan never picks up the wrong guy.” I slowly started to pull the knife down, gutting his skin open.
His screams were raw, agonising, as they crashed through the warehouse like thunder in the night sky. Red stained my hand from the betrayal that seeped out of him.
I paused. “I don’t take kindly to people lying to me.”
“Please,” he cried. “I had nothing to do with it.”
“Interesting. I’ve got photos of you in the van that hit my car, and Hassan knows you gave Luca’s shipment details to Dante. So, we can do this really slowly, or I can make it quick.”
“I have a family. They need me,” he begged.
“Hassan, find out where his family is.”
Hassan nodded. I wouldn’t touch them. I was many things, but I was not that kind of man, and I never would be. He didn’t know that, though.
“Wait, wait! It was me,” he cried out. “I’m sorry.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“The shipment that’s leaving tonight from here. He knows,” he breathed out.
I looked over at Hassan. “I’ll go sort it.” He left the warehouse.
I pulled the knife down more, and blood started to pool on the floor. His screams bellowed in the silence.
“What else?”
“There’s nothing,” he cried.
“I don’t believe you.”
