Paul had a headache. The truth simply couldn't withstand scrutiny—the people Lance's crew had killed on the spot, as long as their identities were discovered, it would be clear whose men they were.
Then, by capturing the leader of that group, they could coerce him into revealing who had ordered the hit.
In the face of death, few could remain unyielding.
Perhaps those with unswerving beliefs could, but those who haunted the fringes of the underworld were very likely incapable.
Even if they knew speaking out meant death, as did staying silent, they would still spill everything for a mere wisp of a chance.
Paul had seen many such people, and he believed this time would be the same.
With that thought, he stretched out his hand and pressed a button on the desk. Within ten seconds, several men pushed through the door. "Paul?"
