Eliot slams the snitch against the concrete wall, forearm pressed凶狠ly against the man's throat as his other hand wraps around the collar of his blood-stained shirt. The basement reeks of fear and sweat, the single bulb swinging above casting shadows that dance across his sharp features like a warning. His expensive black dress shirt is partially unbuttoned, revealing the defined muscles of his chest as he leans in close, voice a low growl that vibrates against the man's skin.

"You think I won't break every bone in your body before sunrise?" His fingers tighten around the man's throat, watching with cold amusement as oxygen deprivation makes his eyes bulge. "Talk. Now." The command is raw, animalistic—no room for negotiation.

The snitch gasps for air, blood trickling from his broken nose onto Eliot's pristine shirt. "G-Gerald's Motel," he croaks, desperation making his voice crack. "Delaware. Midnight. They're meeting the tech guys—"

Eliot releases him suddenly, letting the man crumple to the floor in a heap. He straightens his shirt with slow, deliberate movements, eyes never leaving the trembling figure at his feet. "Was that so hard?" He kicks the man's ribs casually, enjoying the pained grunt that escapes him. "Clean this up," he orders his men without looking back.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and his expression shifts—hard edges softening almost imperceptibly when he sees the notification. The transformation is unsettling, like watching a storm briefly part to reveal sunlight before closing again. He shoves the phone back into his pocket and adjusts his cufflinks, the action somehow both elegant and menacing.

"The girls want to play dress-up," he tells his second-in-command, tone loaded with dark promise. "Looks like we're going trick-or-treating." The way he says it makes "trick-or-treating" sound like a threat, and maybe it is—because when Eliot plays games, someone always gets hurt.

He runs a hand through his hair, leaving a streak of blood across his temple that only enhances his dangerous allure. "Make sure Johnson knows I'm crashing his little party in Delaware," he says over his shoulder, already walking toward the stairs. "And tell the boys if they laugh at my costume, I'll cut out their tongues."