Twisted Obsession

01 - Shipments

Lorenzo Vincelli

It was four in the morning when I awoke from an unintended nap, my body finally succumbing after more than three sleepless nights. My head lifted slowly from the pile of documents that required my signature before any further action could be taken by my men. Pushing the papers aside, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table and holding my face in my hands.

A yawn escaped me, my eyes involuntarily closing from exhaustion. Running a hand through my hair, I reached for the glass of whiskey from the previous night, gulping the warm liquid down as if it were water. The taste was repulsive, but I finished the bottle regardless. Placing the glass back on the table, I picked up my phone, sifting through messages. After a few minutes, I forced myself back to work, tackling the stack of papers on my desk one by one.

Barely ten minutes into the task, it felt like an eternity. My concentration waned when my consigliere, Octavio, entered my office. He looked sharp as always in a well-fitted suit, his dark hair neatly styled. "Boss, what would you like me to do with Eric Flynn?" he asked. "Do you want Federico to take care of him, or would you prefer to handle it yourself?"

I stood, adjusting my suit. "I'll take care of that bastard. Where is he?"

"In interrogation room three," Octavio replied, stepping aside as I walked past him, following closely behind.

The house was eerily quiet, with only a few of my men awake and active. Most were either asleep, out partying, or at home with their families. We made our way down the dimly lit hallway to the foyer, which led to the basement stairs. The basement housed an indoor shooting range, a gym, a weapons room, storage, and ten spacious interrogation rooms that doubled as prison cells.

I opened the door to interrogation room three, Octavio by my side. The door shut behind me, and I observed Eric. He hung from the ceiling, his hands fastened to chains, his legs barely touching the floor. Eric was beaten to a pulp; his right eye was swollen shut, and several bones appeared broken.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Federico standing in a dark corner of the room, twirling a knife in his hand, his attention solely on the blade. Sliding my hands into my pockets, I began circling Eric's body, intimidating him. "What happened to my shipments that were assigned to you?" I demanded, stopping right in front of him.

Eric struggled to lift his head, his voice a jumbled mess. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I don't know. I promise."

I narrowed my eyes, demanding a proper answer. Pulling my gun from my waistband, I pressed it against his temple. "Please," he begged, clasping his hands together as if praying to a deity. "I honestly don't know where it is. I dropped it off just like you asked, to Mr. Sullivan." Tears spilled from his blue eyes.

"Well, if you had, we wouldn't be here, would we?" I asked logically, my patience wearing thin. "Tell me where it is, or I will blow your fucking brains out."

"Please, I have a wife and a small kid. Please don't—" Before he could finish, I pulled the trigger, his head jerking back as his lifeless body hung from the chains, blood dripping onto the concrete floor, echoing in the quiet room.

Lowering my gun, I slipped it back into its holster. "Get this cleaned up," I ordered Octavio and stepped out of the room.

I headed back upstairs, running a hand through my hair. I was barely able to keep my eyes open and needed something to boost my energy. As I poured myself a cup of hot coffee, my mind churned through the issues with my shipments, the headache intensifying. This was unprecedented; I had a plethora of men ensuring the smooth operation of every shipment. For this to happen was bizarre.

Octavio and Federico joined me in the kitchen. Octavio took a seat at the barstools by the kitchen island, while Federico leaned against the wall, his hazel eyes on me.

"What would you like me to do?" Octavio asked, breaking the growing silence.

After a slight pause, I issued my first order. "Get Elliot to find my missing shipment and figure out what the fuck went wrong." Octavio nodded and left.

Elliot Xavier Fox was exceedingly brilliant. He had graduated high school at a young age and attended one of the best universities in the country. He flew onto my radar when he accidentally hacked into the Russian database, earning him a two-year jail sentence. Since his release, he had been working for me.

Federico stared out the window, looking bored. "Rico, find my fucking brother," I ordered, and Federico left without acknowledgment, leaving me uncertain if he even heard me.

Finishing my coffee, I placed the cup in the sink and headed for my sleeping quarters upstairs. My room was dark, cold, and permeated with the scent of the cologne I used daily. The closed shutters made the room seem even darker, giving it a haunted, dead vibe.

As I lay on my neatly tucked bed, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I let out a frustrated grunt as I bring my phone up to my face to see text messages from my sister, Gianna.

Gianna was different from me and Alessio. Unlike us, she despised violence, bloodshed, and everything related to the mafia. Her compassion and moral compass set her apart, evident from her childhood care for our injuries. Becoming a doctor meant everything to her, a way to heal and save lives in stark contrast to our- my world. Her hatred for our lifestyle showed in her refusal to engage with violence, yet she never turned her back on us.

Her graduation was nothing but a testament og hrt determination. She wanted us there, where she sought our presence in her pursuit of a better future. Gianna represented everything I could never be—pure, hopeful, and a reminder that redemption was possible. She made me question our choices and the nature of our existence, and for that, I both loved and envied her.

Gianna: Are you free? I need to ask you something important.

Me: Yeah. What is it?

Gianna: Well, my graduation is next Friday, and I was hoping you and Alessio could come. I asked you last weekend, but you said you'd let me know later, but you never did.

Shit. I had completely forgotten about her graduation amidst all these problems.

Me: I'm not sure if I can make it. A situation has come up, and I can't leave it at the moment, but things might change.

Gianna: Oh, okay. What about Alessio?

Me: I have no idea where your fucking brother is. I've been texting and calling him for days, but he hasn't responded.

Gianna: What if he's hurt? He hasn't replied to my calls or texts either. It's been almost a week. I'm worried, Lorenzo.

Me: I'm sure he's fine. I've sent Federico to find him. He should be home soon. Don't worry, alright?

Gianna: Alright. Let me know if you hear anything! I have to get to class. Talk to you later. Bye!

Reading her last message, I tossed my phone on the bed. Heading to the bathroom, I switched on the lights, lazily kicking the door closed with my foot before starting to strip. Stepping into the shower, I turned the faucet to the right, letting the cool water cascade down my hair, neck, shoulders, back, and finally the back of my legs. Quickly finishing up, I dressed in a dark blue suit with a white shirt and slid on a Rolex and a few rings.

Leaving my room, I shut the door behind me. Laughter and cheers echoed from downstairs. Peering over the railing, I saw my men gathered around, surrounding something—or someone.

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First chapter done about a shit ton more to go. I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I am writing this and I apologize in advance if Zim not a very good writer. I mean I did almost fail my English class but we don't talk about that.

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