His voice was still low, still controlled. “You made it everyone’s business. She owed money.” — “To who?” The leader’s jaw worked silently. His eyes darted to the other three men. One with a red bandana around his neck, standing near the fireplace. One younger, with a poorly healed scar on his cheek, sitting at the table. And one older, with gray in his beard, leaning against the far wall. None of them looked ready to talk.
“I asked you a question,” Roman said. And now there was something in his voice that made the cabin feel smaller. “To who?” — “Kostas,” the leader finally spat. “Victor Kostas. She worked at his club, stole from the till. Five thousand dollars over six months.” Roman processed that. Victor Kostas was a mid-level operator, running protection rackets and illegal gambling on the east side.
Small-time, but brutal. The kind who made up for a lack of real power with excessive cruelty. “And Kostas sent you to make an example.” — “He sent us to send a message. You don’t steal from the family.” — “Family,” Roman repeated. And something like amusement touched his features. “Victor Kostas doesn’t represent any family I recognize. He’s a parasite feeding on people who can’t fight back.”
“And who the hell are you?” the leader demanded again, anger starting to override fear. Roman took one step forward. Only one. But it was enough to make all four men tense. “I’m the man who’s going to explain something to you very carefully,” Roman said. “And you’re going to listen, because your lives depend on understanding what I’m about to say.” The cabin went completely silent, save for the crackle of the fire in the hearth and the distant sound of wind through the pines.
“You made a mistake today,” Roman continued. “Listen, we were just following orders.” — “You put a woman in a tree.” Roman’s voice cut through the excuse like a blade. “You terrorized a child. You laughed while you did it.” — “How the hell do you know?” — “Maya told me everything. Every detail. Every word you said.” The men exchanged worried glances now.
If the girl was talking, if she had survived, if she had reached someone with resources… The leader’s face hardened. “Then you know we were sent by someone bigger than us. You kill us, Kostas will come looking.” Roman’s expression didn’t change. “Let him come.” The silence that followed Roman’s words stretched like a wire pulled too tight, ready to snap. The leader’s face darkened, anger fighting with the survival instinct that told him he was standing on the edge of something irreversible.
“You think you can just walk in here and…” — “I already walked in,” Roman interrupted. His tone hadn’t shifted. “Now, answer my questions. How many of you were there when you hung Ellen?” The leader’s jaw set. “I don’t have to tell you anything.” Dean’s weapon shifted, the barrel now pointing directly at the man’s chest. The message was clear. “Seven.” The younger man with the scar blurted out, his voice trembling. “There were seven of us total.”
The leader shot him a murderous look, but the damage was done. Roman’s eyes shifted to the young man. “Names?” — “I… I don’t know everyone’s last name, okay?” The young man swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He looked at his companions, saw no support, and made the calculation that cooperation might buy him minutes he wouldn’t otherwise have. “I’m Tony. That’s Jack.” He nodded toward the leader. “The guy there is Red. The old man is Pete. The three who aren’t here—Vince, Danny, and Mike.”
“Where are Vince, Danny, and Mike?” Roman asked, though he already knew the answer. Silence. Heavy and incriminating. “They didn’t come back from the woods,” Jack finally said, his voice strained. “You already know that. Whatever you did to them…” — “They got exactly what they deserved,” Roman said simply. “The same mercy they showed Ellen. Which was none,” Dean added from behind him. Jack’s hand twitched toward his weapon again.
It was an instinct more than a strategy, the desperate move of a cornered animal. But Roman was faster than instinct. His pistol barked once. The sound was deafening in the confined space. The bullet slammed into the wooden table six inches from Jack’s hand, sending splinters flying. Everyone froze. “The next one won’t miss,” Roman said calmly, as if he’d just cleared his throat instead of firing a weapon.
“Sit down. All of you. For a moment.” Nobody moved. Then Pete, the older man by the wall, slowly lowered himself into a chair near the fire. Tony followed, his hands raised slightly in a gesture of surrender. Red, with the bandana, hesitated but eventually dropped onto a stool by the window. Jack remained standing. Defiance was written in his features, even as fear leaked through his eyes. “Sit,” Roman repeated.
“Or what? You’ll kill me? You’re going to do it anyway.” — “Maybe. But sitting gives you a few more minutes to make a case for why I shouldn’t.” — “You’re not here to talk. You’re here to clean up loose ends.” — “I’m here,” Roman said, “because a little girl ran barefoot down a highway begging someone to save her mother. And when I found that mother hanging from a tree with rope cutting into her wrists, I made a decision about what kind of people deserved to walk away from this moment.”
He paused, letting the weight of the words settle. “You aren’t those people.” The cabin went silent again, save for the crackle of the fire. Outside, the darkness had completely claimed the woods. Matt’s voice whispered through Roman’s earpiece. “Still clear on my end. No movement.” Jack finally sat, but his posture remained rigid, tense. “Kostas gave us orders. We followed them. That’s how this world works.”
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