Miles' voice was flat but every word carried ice.
"Hey, Russ. Put that gun down."
Russ' hand trembled on the pistol. "I told you to stop—"
Miles didn't move. He watched the man, the way fear had already hollowed him out. "Just think, Russ. Why are you doing this? For money? Really." He let each word land. "You know what happens if you hurt that little girl. I will break your bones one by one until you scream. This shipyard will remember your screams for decades."
The room seemed to inhale and hold itself there — stunned, waiting.
"You forced me to say it in front of a kid," Miles went on, voice colder now. "That's one more sin you've committed."
Russ shook, sweat beading along his temple. "You— I'm not bluffing. I'll kill her."
Miles tapped his fingers against his thigh, almost bored. "You gave me no choice." Then, low and precise: "You have a wife and a five-year-old in Italy, right?"
Russ stuttered, the gun rocking in his grip. "What— how do you—"
