Nobody spoke while the video played and the room stayed completely silent except for the faint sound of chains dragged across the concrete and Vincent’s uneven breathing.
He barely looked like the man I remembered. His expensive suit had disappeared and his perfectly combed hair hung across his bruised face.
One eye had swollen almost completely shut and blood covered the front of his shirt.
His wrists remained chained tightly to a steel chair bolted into the floor and I hated how much it bothered me.
The video continued for another minute before someone stepped into view.
The camera never showed the person’s face. Only that he wore black gloves and heavy boots. And a distorted voice echoed through the speaker.
“You have something we want. We have something you want. The ledger.
