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42: A Proper Dinner

LOGAN

Finally, I was in the presence of the pig that’d turned my whole day upside down

Quietly, I watched as my men beat the living shit out of Ken. He was strung from the roof with iron strings that were no doubt boring into his skin, covered in dirty clothes that were drenched in his blood, and grunting weakly with every brute attack from my men.

He wasn't worth the time I was wasting on him, nor the decade old red wine I’d popped open to keep me level headed while I watched him suffer.

“Please let me go, I’ll do anyth—”

His cowardly whining was cut off by a blow to his jaw that must've dislocated it judging from the sound of bones popping that came after.

Sounding like he was second away from tears, he coughed out blood and groaned like the weakling I’d suspected him to be. I was suddenly bored with the shit-show before me, so I dropped my wine glass on the table beside me and held up a hand that made my men halt.

“Are you ready to tell me how you got the information on the article
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