Alessandro 16+ / Book 1

Chapter 3: Alessandro's princess

Alessandro's POV

Clangorous, agonizing hollers of terror erupt inside the cell of one of my many warehouses, my eyes watching this betrayer get beaten in all the ways imaginable. In ways that satisfy me, ways that the devil himself could not fucking handle.

That is why I should not be crossed.

My lips go in a vicious smirk at the glorious and heartening sight in front of me that will get even more pleasing to watch.

I am not a merciful person. I do not offer second chances. That will only diminish my status, making me look powerless in the eyes of other mafias, even though I give no shit what they fucking think of me.

Being the most dangerous king in history, I will ensure that anyone who dares to fucking cross me in any way suffers insufferable anguish that when I am done with them, they will desire to die.

Therefore, when Roman betrayed, stole, slaughtered two of my soldiers, and disrespected me, he had to face the consequences of his actions.

Even after numerous tortures of excruciating pain, he was not willing to divulge to me whom he was working with, so being the impatient man I am, I will make things less time-consuming cause, after all, time is money and because I love money, I will find out myself, and he will now be a headless corpse.

"Aaagh!"

"Arrrgh!" He hollers as my men pull his frail and aching pain body towards me, bleeding all over from scars and cuts from previous tortures.

My eyes watch as Ares and Stefano slant Roman's head over a stone-made table that is already spattering in blood from my recent victim's torture.

Roman grunts in pain, blood dripping from all parts of his injured body, even where he is missing a few fingers and all of his teeth.

Safe to say that the room is reeking of fresh blood.

"Boss, when you're ready," Stefano states, holding Roman down, who is squirming for dear life. The life that he will not have in a few seconds.

Casually adjusting back into my chair, I rest the back of my hand against my jawline, my elbow relaxed on the chair's arm and my legs lazily apart as I watch the view, thoroughly entertained.

It did not have to go like this. If he had told me what I enquired he would have had an amicable and delightful death.

Think of me as gracious for such an offer, but he chose his path.

"Now." My stone cold, deep voice demands, offering no filter of mercy.

I watch as Ares slams the sharp, glimmering axe down on Roman's throat, the loud sound of the impact resonating inside the stone room, blood spluttering all over areas of the room from the impact.

It is like Christmas all over again.

My eyes watch as his head rolls from his now lifeless body onto the concrete blood stain ground.

Nodding satisfaction to myself, I stand from my chair nonchalantly, buttoning my black blazer and neatly setting the sleeve of my white button-up shirt that somehow has spluttered blood on it from torturing Roman.

My deep voice comes out fierce and cold as I speak to them, "Furnish his head to his family. Let them know it is from me, an early Christmas gift." I glance at my gold watch on my wrist, then head towards the door, with two of my guards opening it for me. "Clean this mess. It reeks of blood. We will be in touch. I have someone to meet."

"Yes, boss."

"I cannot wait to meet her someday," Ares grins at me, and I ignore him, walking from the iron door where my three bodyguards start following behind me.