I'm Not Like Them

Chapter 30

CHAPTER 30

When Detective Hermann entered the private room, the air was thick with tobacco and quiet authority. The walls were a deep mahogany, the lights low and warm — the kind of ambiance designed to make any conversation feel like a negotiation.

Across the living area sat Mr. Wesley Dalton, perfectly composed, a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers and a glass of wine on the low marble table before him. “Finally,” Dalton said, his tone smooth but edged with irony. “You’re here, Detective Hermann.”

Hermann took a slow step forward, his gaze steady. “Where’s Agent Lomax?” he asked. “I need to see that he’s unharmed. I hope you’ll honor the agreement, Mr. Dalton.”

Without a word, Wesley lifted his hand in a casual signal. The two men guarding the doorway disappeared briefly, then returned — escorting Agent Lomax into the room.

Lomax looked disheveled but alive. His wrists were free, his eyes sharp, unbroken. “See?” Wesley said mildly, gesturing with his cigarette. “I’m a man of my word, Detective. Your agent is unharmed. I told you — I don’t kill needlessly.”

Mr. Hermann’s gaze flicked to Lomax, who nodded slightly, as if to say I’m fine. Only then did Hermann take the empty chair across from Wesley Dalton. The heavy silence between them carried the hum of something dangerous — a conversation that would decide how far both men were willing to go.

Wesley leaned back. “Now that we’re all settled,” he said, his voice smooth as smoke, “why don’t we begin properly? I just have one question for you, Detective — why are you tailing this place? Who are you after? And why?”

Hermann’s lips curved faintly. “You shouldn’t be asking that question, Mr. Dalton,” he said evenly. “You should already know why. And you should already know who.”

For the first time, a brief chuckle escaped Wesley’s lips. “You’ve got some courage, Detective.”

“I have reason,” Hermann countered. “And reason weighs heavier than fear.”

Wesley took another slow drag from his cigarette and exhaled. “I understand,” he murmured. “But perhaps your reason is misdirected. You see, instead of wasting your time with me, maybe you should be chasing the real threat — the crime syndicate spreading across this country. They’re the ones you should fear, not me.”

Hermann leaned forward slightly. “Mr. Dalton, the information I’ve gathered isn’t wrong. Every link leads back to you — and to this casino you call The Golden Syren. You’ve built it as a front for something else, and you know it.”

Wesley’s smile didn’t falter. “Detective, you speak as though you’ve already seen the truth.”

“I’ve seen enough,” Hermann said sharply. “So why don’t you stop pretending? Why don’t you admit it, Mr. Wesley Dalton — that you’re one of the lords behind the syndicates poisoning this country?”

For a long moment, Wesley said nothing. He simply watched Hermann through a faint haze of smoke, his expression unreadable — the kind of stillness that made it impossible to tell if he was amused, offended, or planning something far worse.

Then, finally, he smiled again. “You want the truth, Detective?”

Hermann’s eyes narrowed. “That’s all I came here for.”

Wesley leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Good. Because I’m not hard to deal with. If it’s cooperation you want, I’m willing to give it. But before we talk about what I’ll offer, you’ll have to listen. Carefully. Because what I’m about to tell you — no one else knows.”