I stared down at the man on his knees, his face filled with bruises and cuts, his breathing labored and shallow.
His eyes darted around the room, flicking between Mr. Alfonzo, the guards, and me, as if searching for any hint of mercy. But all he found was silence.
I looked back at Mr. Alfonzo, feeling my heartbeat hammer in my chest, my mind racing.
"Who… who is this man?" I managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Mr. Alfonzo's gaze remained fixed on the man, his expression unchanging, as though he were considering nothing more than an insect under his boot.
"A reporter," he said, his voice flat and cold. "He was found snooping around our business, prying into matters he had no business knowing."
"A… reporter?" I repeated, a chill running through me. "And that… justifies this?" My hand gestured weakly to the battered man at our feet.
