The screams had long since faded.

The man was still breathing—barely. Slumped forward in the chair, his body trembled from the shock, his forehead sticky with sweat and blood. His broken fingers curled in unnatural angles, and his breaths came out in short, pained gasps.

Anthony wiped his hands on a silk handkerchief, careful, methodical. His white suit was still spotless.

One of Nine’s men, a tall, thick-necked guy named Vince, shifted uncomfortably from where he stood near the door. He had seen plenty of people get worked over in these rooms, but there was something about Anthony’s calmness that put him on edge.

He wasn’t just doing this because he had to.

He was enjoying it.

Nine watched from a few feet away, his cigarette burning low between his fingers. He had seen enough.

"That’s enough," Nine said finally. His voice was casual, like a bartender calling for last drinks.

Anthony sighed dramatically, standing up and stretching like he had just finished a workout. "Damn. I was just getting into it."

The man in the chair let out a whimper.

Nine stepped forward, exhaling a slow drag of smoke. He crouched in front of the guy, flicking ashes onto the floor.

"Here’s what’s going to happen," Nine said, his tone patient, almost friendly. "You’re going to pay what you owe. In full. By the end of the week." He gestured toward Vince and the other enforcer. "These guys are going to let you limp out of here so you can make that happen."

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

The man weakly nodded, his swollen eyes barely able to focus.

Nine stood up, turning back to Anthony. "Walk with me."

Anthony didn’t hesitate. He followed Nine out of the storage room, into the dimly lit hallway.

The second the door shut behind them, Nine moved fast.

He grabbed Anthony by the collar and slammed him into the concrete wall.

Anthony laughed.

Not a nervous laugh. Not a fake one. A genuine, delighted chuckle.

"See, now this is interesting," Anthony mused, smirking. "Gonna strangle me, boss?"

Nine didn’t squeeze. Just held him there, testing him.

"You enjoyed that way too much," Nine said, his voice calm but sharp.

Anthony shrugged, unfazed. "You told me to handle it."

"There’s a difference between handling a problem and playing with your food," Nine muttered, finally letting go.

Anthony straightened his suit, rolling his shoulders. "I don’t see the problem. You needed him to listen, didn’t you?"

Nine didn’t answer immediately. He just studied him.

"You ever kill someone before?" Nine asked.

Anthony’s smirk didn’t falter. "Not yet."

Nine believed him.

This wasn’t some wannabe psycho trying too hard to act tough. Anthony wasn’t pretending.

Nine exhaled. "You ever pull that kind of shit on someone who didn’t deserve it, and I’ll put a bullet in your head myself."

Anthony placed a hand over his heart in mock sincerity. "Oh, boss, you really do care."

Nine shook his head, already walking toward the exit. "Come on, I need a drink."

Anthony grinned and followed. "Now that, I can get behind."