E.B. was moving like a ghost and he hated ghosts except for the caspers kind like Aleksei. The man in the yellow shirt was no less elusive. And without dealing with them, the peace of mind Makros needed to sleep remained just out of his reach.
His exhaustion didn't disappear upon seeing Dimitri, but something sharp crept back into his eyes.
"Bring him to the club."
The men did not wait for Makros to get up before they carried out his instruction.
The underground club was deserted, cold and dark. It was soundproofed which served well for a maximal violent interrogation.
No screaming, however loud, would save anyone who was brought down here.
Makros moved in slowly, his shoes clinking against the tiles softly.
One of the two guards shoved Dimitri into a metal chair. His hands were wrenched behind his back, bound so tightly his shoulders rebelled against the restraint. He breathed in short, shallow gasps, but they were steady, and although his face was bruised and bloody, he managed to sneer.
Makros cracked each of his knuckles slowly, almost casually. The air was thick with a promise of violence, the kind that settled deep into the bones.
Dimitri breathed sharply, swaying his neck from left to right. His lip curled slightly. "Why don't we all just take some time to—"
Dragon struck him squarely with a swift jab to the ribs closing off his words.
Dimitri grunted but barely flinched. His smirk wavered, but it didn't completely disappear.
Makros sighed, punching his closed fist into his palm as if testing the impact of his punch on a small scale first. "Don't make this any harder than it needs to be."
He struck Dimitri's jaw, sending his head snapping to the side. A fresh trail of blood trickled from his lip.
Dimitri spat out a broken tooth.
Makros bent down to his level, his voice low, steady. "Who else were you working with? Who else is Vincenzo's spy?"
Dimitri did not say anything. His chest rose and fell in slow, measured breaths.
Dragon hit him again, this time in his stomach. The force of the blow rocked the chair a little, but Dimitri still bore the pain.
Makros studied him for a second, then stretched out his hand to collect a knife from Dragon. He placed it beneath Dimitri's eye and the man tended.
Makros nodded. "You're a brave soldier, but that will not save you. I can very well guarantee you."
Dimitri swallowed, his expression almost calm, but Makros saw the tension in his jaw, the brief clenching and reopening of his fists.
He pulled the blade lower, tracing it smoothly against Dimitri's tender throat. "The night you took off, who warned you?"
A beat passed. Then, finally, Dimitri slowly exhaled.
"You wouldn't believe me," he said.
Makros didn't move. "Try me."
Dimitri let the silence stretch out before he finally ground out, "Stefanos."
The air in the room seemed to become colder.
Dragon stiffened, his fists clenched at his sides. "Bullshit.
Dimitri exhaled through his nose, his head canting slightly to the side. "It's no shit. Stefanos phoned me on a secure phone from the communications room. 'Makros doesn't know I'm here,he doesn't suspect me. You have to run. He's sending Dragon your way.'"
Dragon's jaw tightened. His gaze flicked to Makros, searching for his boss' indignation.
