Freddy's POV

I pulled out my knife, twirling it between my fingers. “Now, let’s try this again.”

Marco’s breathing turned ragged. “Freddy—come on, man—”

I pressed the cold blade against his knuckles, not cutting—yet. “What did you tell Viktor?”

Marco swallowed hard. “Just… just that you were tightening security! That’s it!”

I didn’t move the knife. “And what else?”

Marco shook his head frantically. “Nothing! I swear!” Desmond’s grip tightened. “Lying again.”

I sighed, then— I pressed the knife down, just enough to slice through the skin.

Marco screamed. The restaurant remained silent, no one daring to interfere. I tilted my head. “Try again.”

His breathing was frantic, his hand...