Nicolau stumbled, a sharp, searing pain exploding in his right shoulder blade. He spun, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief, to see Jose standing behind him, holding a revolver.
Jose's eyes were cold, devoid of any warmth. He slowly reloaded the revolver, the click of the cylinder a chilling sound in the sudden silence.
"Desculpe, chefe. / Sorry, boss."
Nicolau cursed, a guttural sound torn from his throat.
"Seu bastardo! Eu confiei em você! Você está trabalhando para o homem que enviou o dinheiro, não está?! / You bastard! I trusted you! You're working for the man who sent the money, aren't you?!"
Jose merely smirked, a cruel twist of his lips. He raised the pistol, aiming it directly at Nicolau's head. "Você não precisa saber disso. / You don't have to know that."
Nicolau squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable, the click of the hammer echoing in his ears as Jose's finger tightened on the trigger.
