TROUBLE

FIFTY TWO

**It's torture time again- If you are familiar with the Raven signature from earlier in the book it will be described in detail in this chapter.**

The long awaited day had finally arrived. Everyone has been preparing for this for weeks. Hell, probably even years.

Since this all started many moons ago.

It took a lot to decide who would be on committee of watching Villin slowly and painfully die, to enter the pits of hell.

It was obvious I was going to be there. Raven couldn't not be there. You know the saying, like father, like son. Papa was adamant on being there, whether he wanted to admit it or not he lost his wife too many times to him.

The rest well, they can decide it amongst themselves. It was going down at the Saldaro warehouse, there were limited numbers of watching it happen. Due to space and practicality. If you are just there to watch, at this point you are entirely fucking useless.

No offence to any one in my family.

I was already at the warehouse, I had been here since the sun had come up. I brought out my favourite knives for today, they are shining like the day I bought them. They were sharp as fuck. I threw a couple of them for target practice and almost took off my papa's ear.

He brushed it off though like he didn't have a knife hurdling towards his skull. But if I was going to get away with it not being acknowledge I fucking am.

"Piccolo we are heading down." Rocco called from the door.

Of course this sick bastard was going to get in on the action. I follow off behind him picking up my small case of knives. The warehouse was smaller than the Vault, they were less cells and 'game rooms' as I call them. Their warehouse is typically used for negotiations and meetings.

Getting to the basement, my excitement piqued. I was basically bouncing down the corridor towards the metal room. We stop outside the door waiting for one of the guards to finally open it, I look down to my feet.

Shit.

I grab Rocco's elbow halting him from walking inside; "what are-" I reach down to my feet taking off my heels. They were new, I was going to ruin them with some asshole's blood. Hell fucking no. Rocco laughs at me, taking them from my hands. "Miles bought them as an anniversary gift i am not risking my babies, they're Bottega's." He just shakes his head at me.

Inside the plain room was of course the best part: The weapons table. I mean there was also Villin strapped to a table spread fucking eagle.

He was such a wonderful sight. Standing around with crazed smiles were papa, Leo, Flavio and now Rocco.

Not quite the turn out I was expecting.

"Good morning Demetri, happy death day my darling." I pat his bruised shoulder. I scan his body expecting the obvious. He was covered black and blue, dried blood around his wrists and ankles from the rope.

Only the best for the worst.

"Chi è alla guida?" (Who's leading questions?) Papa questions, crossing his suit cladded arms over his chest. He looks around the small group. Leonardo cleared his throat, stepping froward. He towers over Villin like a Lion stalking his prey. He smirks sardonically looking at Villin's hooded eyes.

Villin was tired, starved and lost probably in pain.

"You can't be expecting answers from me. This isn't my first rodeo kid." Villin's voice was rough, it was choppy. he hadn't spoken a word in just over a week. Leonardo continues to stare down at him, not uttering a word.