*Tallon*
I stood to the side, unnoticed, listening and watching my brother and my best friend.
“So, what do you think? It’s been an hour. Do we kill them?” Alessandro asked casually, turning to me with a bored look. He didn’t even bother looking at the beaten and half-collapsed bodies of the two Russian men before them.
Strapped to wooden chairs with piles of duct tape around each of their limbs, neither Ivan nor Anton looked particularly okay in this instance. Swollen faces, blood dripping from various orifices, and slumped over as they went in and out of consciousness, there was very little keeping them still awake except for their sheer stubborn will.
“I don’t mind.” Vinny shrugged, turning the page of the magazine he was reading from the one old worn-out couch in the room. “But you’re explaining to Tallon why he couldn’t punch them in the face himself.”
