Ezequiel cracked his neck and pointed with his chin toward the reinforced iron door behind us, from which a faint, bubbling groan could still be heard.
— The piece of trash you just finished torturing in there is still breathing, kid
I shrugged, keeping my face perfectly neutral.
— I got what I wanted from him. Whether it takes him three minutes or three days to die tied to that chair is no longer my problem.
The sound of heavy footsteps descending the metal stairs interrupted the conversation. Jhon appeared in the hallway, holding a tablet. He didn't seem unfazed by the basement environment; Goden's corporate business was as lethal as the shots fired in the back alleys.
— Jun-ho. — Jhon greeted me with a quick nod. — We have a legal problem upstairs. One of our transport companies is being accused of laundering and concealment by the prosecution. Someone leaked forged documents to force a government tax audit and freeze our accounts.
