The bar smelled like stale smoke and cheap bourbon. Not that I gave a shit, my eyes were focused over the half-conscious idiot slumped on his knees in front of me. Two of my guys stood behind him, arms crossed, waiting for my decision. His breathing was uneven whether from fear or the bruises already blooming on his face, I didn’t know.

"So..." I began, tapping ash onto the floor. I leaned back in my chair, exhaling a slow stream of smoke from my cigarette, watching him through half-lidded eyes. "You’re the one who thought borrowing money from us was a good idea, but paying it back? Not so much. You owed us fifty grand. Not a huge amount in the grand scheme of things. But instead of handling your shit, you ran. And then we had to waste time hunting you down. That pissed me off."