Fadel

The first hitman groaned as I threw a glass of water in his face, jerking him awake. His head snapped up, blinking rapidly as he tried to make sense of where he was. I gave him exactly three seconds before I grabbed him by the collar and yanked him forward, forcing him to look at me.

"Who sent you?" My voice was calm, but the underlying threat in it was unmistakable.

The man's eyes darted around the room, taking in the scene-the other hitmen still unconscious, Bison standing behind me and Style sitting on the counter, legs crossed, watching silently. Kant stood nearby too, arms folded, his expression unreadable.

"I-" The hitman coughed, spitting out a bit of blood. His nose had been broken, probably during the fight. He shook his head, still dazed. "I don't-"

Bison didn't let him finish. He stepped forward and slammed his fist into the guy's stomach, knocking the air out of him. The hitman wheezed, his body jerking violently against the restraints.

"Try again," Bison said, his voice low.

The second hitman stirred at the noise, his eyelids fluttering open. Before he could say anything, I grabbed his chin and forced him to look at me. He had a deep cut running down his cheek probably from the fight earlier.

"You know how this works," I said smoothly. "I'm not going to ask twice. Who sent you?"

The man hesitated. I could see it in his eyes-the flicker of fear, the calculation of whether it was worth lying to me.

"You think you're scared of whoever sent you?" Bison's voice rumbled beside me. "I promise you, we're worse."

I leaned in slightly. "Talk, and maybe we let you walk out of here in one piece."

The first guy let out a harsh laugh, his teeth stained with blood. "You think I'll just give up my employer because you scared me a little?"

I didn't respond. Instead, I pulled out my knife and drove it straight into his thigh.

His scream was instant, raw, and pained. He jerked against the chair, his body convulsing as the blade sank in.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Style raise an eyebrow but say nothing. Kant, meanwhile, barely moved, his gaze fixed on the scene but his expression giving nothing away.

The hitman's breathing was ragged, his skin turning pale from the pain. I twisted the knife slightly. "Last chance."

The second hitman, the one with the cut cheek, cursed under his breath. "Fuck-okay! Stop!" He was sweating now, panic creeping into his face. "We were hired anonymously, alright? All we got was a job and a payout!"

I didn't move the knife. "And?"

He swallowed hard. "The instructions came through a burner phone. A package, cash upfront, no names, no traceable leads."

"Where's the phone?"

"Destroyed after the job started," he admitted. "Standard protocol."

I exhaled slowly, annoyed but not surprised. These guys were professionals-or at least, they had been until they came after the wrong people.

Bison stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "That's not enough."

The hitman flinched. "We don't know who it was, I swear! But-" His eyes darted between me and Bison, desperation seeping into his voice. "The cash was clean, high-end bills, but there was a mark on some of them. A logo. Some kind of-" He hesitated. "Some kind of snake emblem."

My grip on the knife tightened. A snake.

Style straightened slightly, exchanging a glance with Kant.

Bison let out a low, unimpressed sound. "You're sure?"

The hitman nodded frantically. "Yes! It was on a few of the bills, like a stamp or a watermark. I-I don't know what it means, but I figured it might be important."

I finally pulled the knife from the first guy's thigh, making him cry out again. Blood spread over his pant leg, but he wouldn't bleed out. Not yet, anyway.

I wiped the blade clean on his shirt and turned to Bison. "Looks like we have something to go on."

Bison nodded, rolling his shoulders. "And a snake to hunt."

Behind us, Style let out a quiet chuckle. "This just got interesting."

Kant, however, remained silent, his gaze still on me. I wasn't sure what he was thinking, but I knew one thing-whoever sent these men had just made a mistake.

A big one.