A pained groan escaped his lips as the force of the punch sent him staggering backward.
His vision blurred for a split second, but before he could regain his footing, Tryson was already looming over him, fury burning in his eyes like an unrelenting storm.
"Get up," Tryson's voice was low, sharp, and commanding.
He grabbed the man by the collar, yanking him forward, his grip tightening as he stared into his swollen, bloodied face.
"What did you say?" His voice was cold, controlled, but the anger simmered beneath the surface. "Arthur sent you here, didn't he?"
The man coughed, blood speckling his already ruined shirt, but still, he refused to answer.
Tryson had beaten him mercilessly, yet the defiance in his eyes remained. Even after the relentless blows, even after the fear that should have set in by now, the man remained silent.
A few hours earlier, Tryson had been in his suite, casually getting dressed, preparing to step out and handle some business.
