Lead The Way

"We know where they are! Please, don't kill me!" the man cried out. 

"Fool! Don't speak—" 

The other man, who was huddled in the corner, shouted, but his voice trailed off when Claude shot him a deadly glare.

Claude turned to the whistleblower again. "Where?"

"I—In…in the Red House…" the man stammered. 

Claude's eyes flickered dangerously. The name of the house sounded ominous in his ears. In his world, there was a district called Red Pavilion, and it was a street full of brothels and whorehouses. 

"Where is that place? What kind of place is it?" he asked to confirm his suspicion. 

The man looked away. 

Claude was irked. 

He drove his fist into his gut—once, twice—until the man choked on his own spit. The pain wasn't enough to kill, but it stole the strength from his limbs. 

Then Claude whispered, low and deadly, "You will tell me where and what that place is."

The man whimpered. The other two held their breath.