ROB, THE DECEIVER

Leonardo straightened up, still gripping the hammer, his gaze shifting from José’s broken form to Ricardo. He could feel the tension in the room thickening as Ricardo’s eyes gleamed with sadistic anticipation. The sight of José’s suffering only seemed to fuel his excitement.

“Ricardo,” Leonardo said with a tight voice, though he forced a smile. “You always have the worst timing.”

Ricardo chuckled. “I disagree. I think I have impeccable timing. Just in time to witness the truth spilling out, right, José?” He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving the prisoner, who was trembling, barely holding himself together.

José could only whimper in response, his body wracked with pain, his broken hand cradled against his chest.

Leonardo’s patience was wearing thin. He needed to get to the bottom of this, alone. And while he wasn’t averse to using violence, he preferred it to be purposeful, not gratuitous. Unlike Rob or Ricardo.

“José,” Ricardo said, gaining the man’s attention. “