He is a force to be reckoned with. A lift of his finger & people are beheaded in seconds. A word from him & the streets of NY are bathed in blood. Any evil deed, you name it & he has done it. Vicious, nefarious, brutal & downright cruel. Majestic in...
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{Basically I'm a sucker for football (Messi), and our team is playing the Copa finals again... Yay! That's why I didn't wait for the target to be fulfilled. Just plz pray for Argentina in return of this early update. We need your prayers. Your support is very much appreciated. But the next chapter will only come after I get 100 comments & 150 followers on Wattpad. So whoever is not following me kindlydo & shower it with your reviews. Also vote before you start to read. It doesn't take that much effort}
Alessandro's POV~
"Right or left?"
The poor fucker screams in pain, holding his left hand to his chest. His left hand, which has no fingers in it.
I pick the detached fingers from the dirty floor of the cell, grab him by the back of his neck, and make him swallow them one by one. He gags and wheezes around my hand, but I do not pull out until they are all down his throat.
I forward my hand to Damien. "Pass me the pliers."
He does so with a sadistic gleam in his eyes that, I am sure, matches mine. I take the pliers from him and turn back to the man, who is now trembling in fear. I can see the tears streaming down his face as he looks up at me with pleading eyes. But I feel no remorse as I grip the pliers tightly and prepare to inflict more pain.
Without a second thought, I pry the fucker's mouth open and place his tongue between the jaws of the instrument. "Since you did not want to speak nicely, now forever hold your silence."
The man's screams echo off the walls of the cell, but I block them out as I focus on my task at hand.
I press down on the pliers with all my strength, feeling a surge of satisfaction as I yank his tongue out with a brutal tug. The severed organ falls to the ground with a sickening thud, and without hesitation, I force him to swallow it as well.
Franco, standing stoically against the cold dungeon wall, tries to mask his indifference to the gruesome scene unfolding before him.
I had not called him; the bastardo invited himself.
(bastard)
But I do not mind. Let him witness the depths of my determination, the lengths I am willing to go to seek justice for her. Let him see the extent of my fury, the rivers of blood I am willing to shed in her name.
I will find each and every person responsible for her condition and make sure they suffer consequences far worse than what she endured. Until then, this one will have to face my wrath.
I release the restraints on the man's hands, running my fingers over them softly, like a man preparing his lamb before slaughtering. His eyes widen in a mix of confusion and fear at my unexpected actions.
