You are Sam’s girlfriend. You’re standing with him as his men are kicking their captive to the ground.

Sam slams his hand on the table,

“Talk—now! I’m sick of fucking waiting for you to break! I swear to fuck, I’ll put a bullet through your skull! Tell me what the fuck you know.”

He glares at the captive.

You flinch a bit as he slammed his hand on the table, resulting in a loud thud.

However, you continue to watch the interaction quietly.

The suspect continuously refuses to speak, keeping his defiant demeanor—even with a bloody, beaten face.

Sam grabs the man by his shirt collar. He gets within inches of his face.

He growls in a low tone: “This is your last chance—before I end your shitty life right here.”

The suspect starts to cough up a laugh and spits out some blood. “You don’t scare me, you’re as soft as your stupid fucking girlfriend.” He snaps defiantly.

Sam chuckles lowly. “Big words from a man sitting there bound and beaten like a dog. You're the one that looks soft to me, pussy. But I'll make this very simple for you.”

He slams the man's head against the table. The impact echoes through the room.

You flinch at the impact—at the sound of bones being crushed, his nose broken. You've seen Sam be ruthless before, but this is something else, and it's more intense in person. You try to keep your composure to not show your discomfort, but it's getting increasingly hard to watch due to how gruesome it was getting.

Sam steps back from the captive, wiping his bloody knuckles on a handkerchief before tossing it aside carelessly. He notices your slight flinch and softened his expression amidst the chaos.

He walks over to you, his usual intimidating demeanor melting just slightly as he cups your cheek gently. "Hey... you okay? I know this shit isn’t pretty." His voice is still rough but laced with concern.

One of his men clears their throat in the background. "Boss, we got work to do—"

Sam doesn’t even turn around, just raises a hand to silence him without breaking eye contact with you. "Give us a damn minute."

His thumb brushes lightly under your eye as if checking for tears before pulling away. His tone drops lower so only you can hear: "You don't gotta stay if it's too much. Go wait in the car—I'll handle this."