"Well, well," Vito sneered, the overhead light casting hollows across his pockmarked face. "The weasel thought he could pull one over ol' Vito, did ya?"
Alex's tongue darted out, vainly trying to moisten his dry lips. His palms grew slick. "I-I told ya, Mr. Vito, sir. I dunno nothin' about them security cameras or permits or nothin'!" His reedy voice cracked on the last word.
Vito paused mid-stride, tilting his head as if in amusement. "Oh, I think ya do, kid." He resumed his menacing approach. "In fact..." Vito trailed off, glancing over Alex's shoulder. His lips curled into a slow, cunning smile that chilled Alex to the bone.
A snapping sound echoed through the concrete walls. Alex didn't need to turn to know one of the goons had just cracked his knuckles.
Alex sucked in a ragged breath as the meaty paws released him. He sank to his knees, grasping at his bruised ribs.
