Charles POV:
The metal door to the warehouse creaked shut behind them. A thick silence hung in the air, broken only by the muffled grunts and blood-slicked breaths of the man tied to the chair in the center of the room.
Chris — once a trusted foot soldier — now reduced to a trembling mess, drenched in sweat, his lip torn and one eye swollen shut. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, staining the collar of his shirt. His hands were bound tightly with thick zip ties, wrists raw and bruised.
"Sin" Moretti stood in front of him, sleeves rolled up, shirt spotless despite the chaos. His eyes held no emotion — just icy calculation. Charles leaned on the wall behind him, arms crossed, face dark with disappointment.
"You disappoint me, Chris," Sin said quietly, his voice calm — too calm. "You had a place. You had loyalty. You had protection."
He leaned forward slightly. "And you threw it away... for what? A few thousand dollars? A whisper of my secrets?"
Chris whimpered, his voice hoarse. "I... I didn't mean to—"
A brutal punch silenced him, delivered with precision. Blood splattered onto the dusty floor. Sin exhaled slowly and circled the chair like a predator.
"You gave information about our warehouse routes... our shipping lane through the docks. You wanted to see me fall?" he asked softly. Then he crouched beside Chris, tilting his chin up to meet his eyes. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"
Chris sobbed, "Please... Sin, I swear I was forced—he had my family, I didn't know what to do... I'm sorry, I didn't want to—"
Sin's lips curled into a slow, cruel smile. "You didn't want to?" His voice hardened. "You could've come to me. Instead, you betrayed me."
He stood, cold steel glinting in his hand — a small, curved knife. The same one he used when he needed answers. Sin pressed it against Chris' cheek gently, watching the man shudder.
Charles turned away briefly, jaw clenched. He had seen Sin do this before — but no matter how many times, the cruelty in his friend's methods always scraped against the line of humanity.
Sin didn't stop.
The first cut was shallow, a warning. Then came the second. Chris screamed, his voice echoing off the warehouse walls. Blood trickled down his face like tears.
"Next time you try and give my enemies information about my organization..." Sin whispered near his ear, "I will wipe out your entire generation. Slowly. Thoroughly. Mercilessly."
Chris sobbed uncontrollably now, pleading, begging, "Please—please I'll disappear, I'll vanish—just don't kill me. I'll do anything—"
But Sin wasn't listening anymore.
He took two steps back, raised his gun, and fired.
The shot cracked through the silence. Chris's head snapped back, his body going limp instantly. A pool of blood spread beneath the chair.
Sin lowered the weapon slowly. His expression hadn't changed — no remorse, no satisfaction. Just silence.
No one needed to know he had pulled the trigger. No one ever would.
He turned to Charles without a word, nodded once, then walked out of the warehouse like nothing had happened.
Charles remained behind, staring at the blood, then at the lifeless body of the man who used to laugh with them just weeks ago. Loyalty came at a price — and betrayal? It came with a bullet.
And Sin… Sin never missed.