"No! I had no idea. I was just following you!"
Tristan hummed, checking Lewis's expression for any hint of the lie.
All he saw was a genuine desire to say anything and sell anyone to be left alive. And lots of pain, too—Lewis was cradling his broken arm and biting his lip raw.
"How did you contact your employer? You had to tell him somehow that you've done the deed, right?"
"Through an anonymous messenger app. He asked for pictures of your corpse, and then he'd pay me in crypto."
"Good. Very good." Tristan smiled. "Maybe in an hour you will be free to go home. Just do one simple thing for me."
"W-what is it? I can do it… if it's not too dangerous…"
"It's very simple. Trey, keep watch over this chicken—better than you did last time. And… Wrap his broken arm, I suppose. What I want him to do is easier done with arms."
"Yes, boss. Heard that, asshat? He said nothing about your legs, so you better not even breathe at me wrong!"
