With the softest click, Kyle resumed reloading his gun and faced his adversary. The man’s gaze settled on Kyle’s left side with a grim smirk.
“Your bullet may have pierced my shoulder, but my knife found its mark in your waist. It’s impossible for you to claim to be unscathed, wouldn’t you agree?” the man taunted.
“My mind and my limbs remain unburdened by pain,” Kyle countered, a cool edge to his voice. “I am not certain you can say the same.”
His face betrayed no emotion—it was hardly unusual for Kyle to emerge from his investigations with bruises and cuts. They were merely occupational hazards of his profession.
“This,” Kyle said, lifting the recorder’s memory chip, “holds all of your secrets. It is only a matter of time before the shadows that you cower behind are revealed.”
