"I heard you're headed to America," Bianchi said, his tone casual as he sat beside me in the quiet interior of the vehicle.

I turned my gaze to the tinted window, refusing to meet his eyes. "Don't you think it's time to put an end to Taylor's organization?" I asked, my voice flat, carrying the cold weight of a promise.

"And Taylor?" he asked, leaning back against the leather seat.

"Don't worry about him... You'd get a share of his burnt body in the next five days," I replied coldly.

"You must have given him the hardest torture," Bianchi noted, a slight edge of grim appreciation in his voice.

"I...