Page 139 of Malicious Claim

Dragon gave a lopsided smirk. "They don't call me Dragon for nothing."

Makros said nothing as he turned, his shoes clicking against the tiled floor. The heavy steel door groaned shut behind him, leaving Dragon alone on the dancefloor. He rolled his shoulders, cracking his knuckles before turning toward the kitchen.

Dimitri barely lifted his head when Dragon entered. His face was still bloodied and his breathing was shallow but steady. His arms were bound behind a new chair, but his eyes were sharp, watching Dragon with suppressed rage.

Dragon drew up a chair, reversed it, and straddled it, resting his arms on the back. He studied Dimitri in silence before speaking.

"You have one last chance to persuade me that you are not full of crap."

Dimitri weakly smirked. His voice rasped when he replied, "And if I don't?"

Dragon shrugged. "Then I will begin to get innovative."

Dimitri did not blink. "I have already told you the truth. If Makros does not believe it, then that is his issue."

Dragon tilted his head to the side. "Makros buys it, apparently. I'm the one who doesn't. You and Stefanos were never friends. Never exchanged more than orders and reports. Why would he warn you? Why would he work for Vincenzo? Your story is shit, it doesn't add up."

Dimitri licked the blood from his lip. "Shit, you're here talking to me when you should be questioning him."

Dragon's fingers drummed idly on the chair. "I don't think you understand your situation."

"Oh, I understand it perfectly." Dimitri's smile extended. "You're going to do what you do best."

Dragon's eyes narrowed. "And you have a very clear idea of just how good I am at it."

Dimitri let out a rough laugh then winced. "Yeah, I do. But no matter what you do to me, it won't change the truth."

Dragon inclined forward slightly, his own voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "Maybe it won't. But it might change how much enjoyment you get out of telling it."

For an instant, something glimmered in Dimitri's eyes, but he concealed it rapidly.

Dragon smiled. "Shall we start."

Dragon snapped his neck, rolling the strain out of his shoulders, before nailing Dimitri with a decent glare. The dim kitchen's light cast harsh shadows around the room, which only served to make the dried blood on Dimitri's face stand out even more.

"Let's cut the crap," Dragon stated, voice low and even. "Who are you trying to protect?"

Dimitri breathed out slowly, unsteadily, and then weakly smirked. "Protecting? I can barely protect myself right now."

Dragon's jaw tightened. "Wrong answer." He lashed out, striking Dimitri squarely across the face. The chair scraped against the concrete as Dimitri's head snapped to the side. New blood trickled from his broken lip, but he laughed low in his throat.

"That's all you got?" he taunted.

Dragon reached out and took a grip on the back of his head and jerked him upright. "Who told you to set up Stefanos?

Dimitri let his head roll back slightly, blinking sluggishly at him. "Maybe Stefanos framed himself."

Dragon's fist drove into his gut, knocking the air from his lungs. Dimitri gasped, body jerking forward as he coughed.

"You think this is a game?" Dragon growled.

Dimitri wheezed, trying to catch his breath. "If it is, I'm losing pretty bad."

Dragon exhaled slowly, wiping his hand on his jeans as he stepped back. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded photo, flicking it open. He held it out to Dimitri, the fuzzy image of a man in a yellow shirt staring back at them.

"Do you know this man?"

Dimitri's eyes flicked to the photo, but his face didn't. "Can't say I do."

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