Valentine Martin woke up in the early morning, scrunching her nose as she heard unfamiliar moaning through the wall. She sat up, massaging her face to get the sleep away. Straining her ears, she heard it again.
"Use your words slut. What do you wa...
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Mr. Salvatore sat down on his new expensive Italian leather seat he got imported from Italy. The older man closed his eyes in exhaustion. It was the only time he could unwind himself. Where he could lower his guard.
He loosened his tie, cracking his neck in the process. A soft groan escaped from his throat. He then decided to open his eyes. They landed on the loads of papers that were stacked on his wooden desk. Mr. Salvatore grumbled, grabbed a piece of paper that lied on top as he thought to himself how he was gonna spend hours on them again. That was, until he heard the sound of a gun being cocked behind him. It put him in full alert. Carlos's hand already reached for his waistband where his gun was attached.
"Tsk, tsk tsk," the sound of someone clicking their tongue could be heard very clearly behind him.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Mr. Salvatore thought his chances through. The chances of behind hit and where. If he survived this happenings he would fire his security, that's for sure. It had been the second time they just let anybody up. He wasn't paying them get murdered in his own home.
"Did I have the chance to be acquainted with you before?" Mr. Salvatore asked, his eyebrow arching upwards as the man appeared in his vision. He had cold blue eyes. The color of water being frozen. They stood alerted and full of hostility. There were a few scars that defined his face. Two scars went from his above his eyebrow till' under his eye bag. The other scar that was engraved on his face was smaller at his mouth; it was a straight deep line. The last one ran over his cheek. He had short onyx hair. He wore an black tight fitting shirt with matching trousers that were under his thigh garter.
Mr. Salvatore thought avidly. Who was this man? He vaguely did remember his appearance but he had forgotten from where exactly.
"No," the man smiled eerily. "But I do have some business with you."
The man slammed down a picture on Mr. Salvatore's desk. His hand layered on the picture before he removed it.
Curiously, Carlos Salvatore took a peek at the picture. It was a picture of Angel Of Death. And just in time, Carlos remembered why the man looked so familiar.
This man, standing in front him. He was the head of the assassins.
Other times, the mafia and gang bosses didn't want to get their own hands dirty, and if they had the funds for it, they would hire other professionals to do the job for them. Regular people could also hire them through connections, as long as they had the money to pay for their services. As far as Carlos could recollect, the assassins were a family affair; members were trained from a young age, and it was a large family to begin with. He wasn't too sure about the exact number, but he preferred not to find out.
"Who's that? Is he your new target?" Mr. Salvatore asked. The man shook his head.
"You know him. Don't lie to me." He drew his face closer to Carlos. ""People have told me they've seen him hanging around you; like a snake and a rat. So, tell me where my son is, and maybe I'll consider and let you live. "
