Vermillion

26

TW: violence + blood + torture

Raffaele had arranged a car to bring Mario and Ilaria home later that night.

If they had all left so early, it would seem disrespectful.

He wasn't going to tell the two about what happened until they got home. He didn't want to create a panic for no reason.

He was now standing in front of Marcelo's figure, slumped on a wooden chair in the middle of a damp, dark room beneath the house.

Marcelo looked to be in his sixties. He had a slim build, and his hair was mostly grey, with a few hints of the dark brown it once was.

His skin was worn looking, his face adorned in wrinkles from years of stress and work.

Circe was standing next to him, with a sadistic grin on her face.

This was her favourite part of the job.

Raffaele poured a bucket of ice cold water over Marcelo, who was still passed out from the hit to his temple.

"Svegliati pezzo di merda" Raffaele spat at him.

Translation: Wake up you piece of shit.

Marcelo immediately jolted awake, eyes wide as they rapidly darted around the room, trying to assess the situation.

Once he realised what was going on, a look of dread made its way onto his face.

"You have been working for my family long enough" Raffaele began "You know how this goes"

Marcelo tensed up, fear coursing through his body. He had witnessed the torture Raffaele inflicted on men who betrayed him countless times before.

Only now, it was him in the wooden chair.

"As much as I would love to relive the old times, I'm rather tired after the ball" Raffaele told him, getting into character.

He smirked when he saw Marcelo ease up a bit.

"So, my acquaintance here will be doing the job for me" Raffaele smiled, raising a hand towards Circe, who was fiddling with some tools on a table at the other side of the room.

"Don't worry Marcelo" Raffaele assured "She's
not as bad as me"

Circe walked over to the man sitting in the chair.

"She's worse"

Marcelo gulped. The same amount of fear he had five minutes ago coming back.

His hands were tied to each armrest, along with his legs to each side of the chair. His torso was wrapped in rope, which tied him to the back of the chair, so tightly it made it hard to breathe.

"Who ordered you to commit such betrayal?" Circe asked, although she already had a fair idea as to who was controlling him.

"T-the Kuznetsov's" Marcelo stuttered, terrified by the violent aura radiating off of the young girl "Michail wanted Raffaele dead"

He was astounded at the fact that he was so petrified by a teenager.

"Good boy" she smiled, patting his head like a dog when he answered her immediately.

Circe was holding a pair of pliers in her small hands. She looked so out of place in the middle of the dark room, which had faint blood stains on the floor in places, and an old musty smell hanging over them like a cloak.

She looked as if she belonged on the cover of a magazine, not torturing some helpless old man.

"Now tell me" Circe started, bringing the pliers to the mans right hand and clamping it down on one of his fingernails "Why did you do it?"