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slap, drew blood from Absar’s gaping mouth.
    “You fucking traitor!” the man growled at Absar. “You have dishonored Minto.”
    “Wait. No. I haven’t told them anything,” pleaded a confused Absar. This wasn’t the rescue he had been hoping for. He struggled against his chains, knowing that Minto’s retaliation would not only mean his gruesome death, but the murder of all his family members. Minto was known for his sadistic rage. Fear tripped up his tongue. “Wait… they don’t know anything…”
    “ Shut up, traitor,” the man shouted, taking out his aggression with another backhand and a kidney punch for good measure. “Sir, we have him!”
    In the doorway appeared another hooded man, much larger than the other two. He too was covered in blood, with a bloody machete in one hand and petrol can in the other. Wiping the machete on his chest, the man entered the room, spilling petrol at the doorway and drawing a trail to Absar.
    “Tell us what you told them, Absar.” The hooded man casually poured petrol around Absar’s chair.
    “I didn ’t tell them anything! I would never give them Minto!” The smell of petrol permeated Absar’s nostrils – he couldn’t place the man’s voice, which put him at a disadvantage. He knew that these would be his last minutes if he could not convince this man that he had not turned on his master.
    The hooded man lifted the petrol can and emptied it over Absar. “Do you think that we don ’t know what you have done?” The man’s husky voice was soft and calm, a chilling counterpoint to the butt of the bloody machete that slammed into Absar’s stomach. Absar doubled over in pain, his mind ticking in overdrive. This doesn’t sound like Minto’s man – he sounds too… too educated. “Tell us now or we’ll take your head back to Minto for his trophy wall.”
    Minto ’s trophy wall was unknown to anyone outside the circle. It was adorned with photographs of his victims and stuffed human appendages snatched from those that had wronged him. How did they know about the trophy wall? Doubt began to muddle Absar’s mind.
    “We have already added your wife and parents to the trophy wall for your dishonor. If you chose not to cooperate, Minto will add your children alongside your head,” the hooded man’s husky voice continued, still in that eerily calm tone. Absar looked up in time to see the fist slamming into his face. “Your lovely, young daughter – how old is she now? Sixteen?” The man’s face was close to Absar’s and he was almost whispering the words into Absar’s ear.
    Absar ’s mind began to cloud with the images of his dead wife and parents, and he shivered at the thought of what they would do to his children. He began to doubt his own memories, wondering if something had slipped out during the many interrogations he had endured. Had my random taunts given them clues ? Absar’s body jumped as a needle was pushed into his neck, and a blinding rush of heroin flooded his blood stream. These were Minto’s men, was his last coherent thought as the drug took hold, pushing him into a make-believe reality.
    The hooded man ’s machete blade cut into Absar’s throat, only enough to draw blood, but demonstrated the absolute resolve that these men brought from Minto. The information would be extracted and Absar’s children would either be saved or all would perish. Absar’s mind raced as he thought of his daughters, whose lives would be at his mercy. Their beauty and innocence would be gone , he thought to himself, knowing that Minto would push them into prostitution to pay for the disloyalty of their father. There was only one way to save them; sacrifice himself.
    “I told them everything,” Absar wept as he recounted the details of each hiding place and Minto ’s security protocols. The only thing that he could think of was the safety of his children, as the heroin rushed through his bloodstream and polluted his brain. He stumbled in and out of