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George's lips trembled. It was clear he didn’t know why he was there. I leaned forward slightly, my gaze narrowing.
"You're here because you have the answers I need. About my father's death."
He looked away, his jaw clenching, but I wasn't about to back down. I gestured subtly to Antonio, a silent signal that we couldn't afford to waste time. The gravity of the situation demanded swift action.
Antonio, his expression unyielding, moved closer to George. The room was filled with an unsettling tension as the inevitability of what was to come hung heavily in the air.
Antonio's hands, usually steady and precise, were now instruments of coercion.
As Antonio's methods began, George's body convulsed involuntarily. The pain was evident in his clenched teeth and the sweat beads forming on his forehead.
His weakened state made him susceptible, and the torment didn't take long to break through his resolve.
Gasping for breath, George's head hung low, his body trembling. The ordeal had stripped away whatever remained of his defiance.
His voice, strained and hoarse, finally shattered the silence that had enveloped the room. "I'll talk," he croaked, his admission bringing a small smile to my face.
Antonio stepped back, creating a bit of distance, but the charged atmosphere in the room persisted. My focus remained unwavering as I leaned in, fixating on George's eyes, searching for even the faintest trace of deception.
"Tell me everything-" I pressed, "-about my father's accident," my voice edged with urgency.
George's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his gaze skittering around the room, unable to hold my steady stare.
Finally, his eyes met mine, and he released a heavy sigh that seemed to carry the burden of his guilt. With a somber, defeated demeanor, he began to speak.
In a voice laden with confession, George unveiled the truth that had long been veiled in shadows. He unraveled the web of deceit that surrounded my father's death.
It was a tale of betrayal and corruption, a story that implicated not just George but many others who had conspired to hide the malevolent truth.
He recounted how he had been bribed, a sinister exchange that had led him down a treacherous path.
The case, which should have been a pursuit of justice, had been compromised from the start. He confessed that he had been present at the scene, meticulously arranging the evidence to fit the narrative of an accident.
And chillingly, he admitted to being there when the collision occurred – a deliberate act meant to snuff out my father's life.
My fists clenched as rage surged within me, my grip on control tenuous at best. George's words painted a horrifying picture, one that shattered the façade of innocence surrounding my father's tragic fate.
Seized by a volatile mix of emotions, I lunged forward, my hand gripping George's collar with an intensity that mirrored the fire in my eyes.
Fear and desperation etched across his face, he pleaded, shouting that he hadn't been the one who had brought an end to my father's life.
The words hung in the air, an admission reverberating through the room, amplifying the weight of our unearthing truth.
A chill coursed down my spine, and I froze, my gaze locking onto George's tearful eyes. His words, seemingly innocuous, held a revelation.
He had said it – my father was still alive after the crash. The implication was clear: someone had taken advantage of my father's vulnerability and pain to silence him forever.
In a cold and calculated voice, I demanded, "Who was it?"
George's cries continued, his words coming out in a jumbled stream of protest and despair. But through the chaos, a name emerged.
The room fell into a haunting silence, the revelation like a storm that left devastation in its wake.
Without uttering a word, my hand moved with a purpose almost detached from my consciousness. Swiftly, almost mechanically, I reached into Antonio's back pocket and retrieved the gun.
Despite my familiarity with the weapon's weight, it felt strangely cold and heavy against my palm.
George's cries had quieted, his eyes wide with terror and realization.
