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I slammed his hand down on the table, the crack of bone against wood echoing through the room. He gasped, the sound half a cry, half a sob, and I knew I had him.
"Wait! Wait," he stammered, the pain breaking through his resolve. "I’ll tell you. Just... stop."
I released his hand, leaning back to give him space to speak. He spilled the names, the details, everything I needed. When he was done, he slumped in the chair, defeated, a man broken by the weight of his own betrayal.
I straightened up, brushing off my hands. "Thank you, Mr. Ivanov," I said, my voice soft again, almost gentle. "You made the right choice."
As I left the room, I didn’t bother looking back. He’d be dealt with, and my mission would continue. In my line of work, there were no heroes, no villains. Just people who knew how to play the game, and those who didn’t.
And I always played to win.
