Blood And Fingers

With a rag stuffed in the Fixer's mouth to muffle his cries, Ren went to work. 

The study was soundproofed well enough, thanks to a certain lecherous idiot who wanted privacy with his mistress, but he wasn't going to risk anyone overhearing. 

The Fixer, once a man of confidence, power and influence, was now reduced to a trembling, whimpering wreck, bound tightly to the heavy wooden chair.

Ren sat on the table in front of the bound man, twirling a dagger idly in his hand. 

"I admire your loyalty, Fixer." He said, his words low and dangerous. "But that loyalty won't save you from the world of pain you're in for. So, save yourself the hassle and just answer my questions."

"I want to know everything about the job to kill Lilith Underwood." He said calmly. "Who ordered it? What was paid for it? How was it supposed to be carried out?"

The Fixer, his eyes wild with fear, shook his head furiously, refusing to answer.