“I will… I will talk,” He stuttered, his voice getting breathless, “Please stop. I swear to talk.”

I stopped, my gaze not leaving his face. He swallowed a breath, realising I was dead serious. No fucking amount of lies or dragging would save him, but telling the damn truth, “It was Russo. He ordered me.”

My brows raised, “Russo?”

He nodded heavily, “Francesco Russo.”

“What did he order?” I asked calmly.

“He…” He went silent, probably think if to continue speaking ...