Not dramatically.
One.
Two.
Three.
Christian has the phone to his ear, waiting.
The dealer’s breathing changes by four.
By six he’s looking at the phone instead of Lucian.
By eight his jaw is tight enough that I can see it shake.
Christian lowers the phone.
“No answer.”
Lucian nods once, then looks back at the dealer.
“There it is,” he says softly. “The exact amount you matter.”
The dealer says nothing.
He doesn’t have anything to say to that.
“Now we can do this the long way,” Lucian continues, “and Elijah can work through every part of his mood while you keep telling us nothing, or you can decide that dying for a man who won’t even pick up the phone is a stupid way to spend your night.”
The man swallows.
I can see it.
The decision is already in him, fighting with whatever’s left of his pride.
Lucian leans back slightly, giving him just enough space to think he has some.
“We don’t need everything,” he says. “We just need the first useful thing.”
The dealer looks at Christian’s phone again.
Then at Elijah.
Then back at Lucian.
Something in him gives.
“I don’t know where she is,” he says quickly. “I swear to fuck, I don’t know where they took her.”
Lucian doesn’t nod, doesn’t reward it.
“Who had people watching her?”
“A lot of guys,” he says, breath uneven now. “A lot of different guys. I never dealt with them direct.”
“Who did they answer to?”
He hesitates.
