Louis' POV
"My enemies don't live to tell how much of a monster I am.
Everyone thinks I'm a saint — perfect, innocent, untouchable.
But you know the truth now, don't you, Mr. Journalist?"
I paced slowly, my gloved hand tracing the edge of the table. The sound of my boots echoed against the cold floor. His breathing was ragged, the kind of sound that begged for mercy even when the mouth stayed shut.
"You'd better start talking," I said softly. "Now. Or I'll do things you can't begin to imagine."
He whimpered, shaking his head, but I continued, voice calm and level — too calm.
"I already have information about your wife… and your daughters. They live here, in this city. A small apartment barely holding together on your small salary."
I crouched in front of him, watching his pupils widen. "You wanted a big break, didn't you? That's what they told you. They used you as bait. You're disposable, Mr. Pearl — a name on a list. And the only mistake you made was walking into my world."
