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Chapter -8:Next time, try not to aim at my face

Robert P.O.V

The air hung heavy with the scent of blood and despair.In the dimly lit underground basement the man tied to a chair was barely recognizable, his face a grotesque mask of agony and torment. His lips were parted and hardly able to keep his eyes open as he watched me run the sharp tip of the blade over my lips .

I was sitting on a chair completely in ease with my legs crossed , one of my arms was resting on the armchair and the other hand was playing with the knife.My men were lurking in the dark like predators waiting for their turn to play with the prey.

I leaned forward resting my elbows on my thighs , my fingers were intertwined into first with the knife in the middle.

"You've been stealing drugs from me," I said. “Then my money”. I got up ,stood before him and the sharp tip of the blade on the edge of his jaw while bending close to his face.

“Did you really think you could get away with it? I will not find out”.

He tried to speak, but his words were a garbled mess. Hi
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