Chapter 7 - The Interrogation In The Warehouse
Two hours later, the opulent lakeside mansion was empty, and Silas Crane was tied securely to a metal chair in an abandoned industrial warehouse.
The harsh overhead work light cast long, jagged shadows across the damp concrete floor and rusting steel beams.
Silas blinked frantically against the blinding glare, his silk bathrobe soaked in cold sweat and his hands trembling violently.
Knox stood directly in front of him, slowly wrapping black leather tactical gloves around his knuckles with deliberate slowness.
“K-Knox? My boy... why are we here? There’s been some terrible mistake!” Silas whimpered, forcing a shaky, desperate smile.
“Don't ever call me that,” Knox said quietly, his voice cutting through the damp air like a razor-sharp blade.
“You took twenty-five thousand dollars every month for eight years to care for the woman who raised me,” Knox continued, stepping closer.
“And I earned every penny! Managing an elderly woman with cognitive decline is exhausting work!” Silas defended himself hysterically.
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Knox’s fist shot forward with blinding speed, striking the metal arm of the chair right beside Silas’s leg with a deafening clang.
The chair shuddered violently, and Silas let out a high-pitched shriek of sheer terror.
