Daniel Firth groaned, his head lolling to the side as consciousness slowly returned to him. His hands were bound tightly behind his back, and his body ached from where Asher's gun had struck him.
He blinked, his vision hazy, but as soon as he saw Xander towering over him with an unreadable expression, fear spiked through his chest.
Xander crouched to his level, eyes cold and calculating. "Let's try this again," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "Who sent you?"
Daniel swallowed hard but remained silent. He could barely move his tongue, but even if he could, he had been trained not to break easily.
Xander sighed, running a hand through his hair. He didn't have the patience for this. He knew Daniel wouldn't talk so soon, but he had been hoping for some level of cooperation.
Behind him, Asher leaned against the metal table, arms crossed over his chest. "Tough guy," he mused. "Shame it won't last long."