“No. I told him fuck, no.” He turns and spits to the cement. His talking has made a cut inside his mouth start bleeding again.
“So, what changed?”
“He asked over and over again. Then he had the other guys already lined up, he just wanted me to watch them.”
“He gave you your own crew.” I finish the thought. “If you had gone to my father, he would have rewarded you with your own crew, with anything you fucking wanted. Instead, you’ve betrayed us. You’ve stolen from us.”
He nods. “Yeah. I did. And for that you’ll kill me. I accept that. But I did not set that fucking fire. I had nothing to do with that.”
I stare down at him, at the bruises and the cuts. His eyes are already glassy.
“Okay.” I nod and leave the room, shutting the door quietly.
“You believe him?” Viktor asks, looking ready to get back in there and have more fun.
“I do,” I nod. “He’s a traitor. He knows he’s going to die for what he’s done, there’s no reason for him to lie about the fire.”
“If not him, then who?” Boris asks.
“We’ll find out, but he doesn’t know anything.” I shrug. It’s been a long day. Fuck, it’s been a long week. The prospect of going home to my empty condo, where I can still envision Charlotte lying in the bed beside me, is about as inviting as a three-hour lecture on the history of outhouses.
“What should we do?” Boris asks as I turn around.
“How long has he been in there without water?” I ask, checking my phone.
“Two days since we gave him anything,” Boris answers. “You want us to feed him?”
I laugh. “Fuck, no. I want you to leave him alone. Lock that door and let him die.”
A message comes through my phone.
Found Oliver. He’s here at Mark’s place.
“I have to go.”