𝕺𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖚𝖕𝖔𝖚𝖓 𝖆 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊,
There was a girl from a loving family.
A boy from a broken background.
Everything went well until she was separated from her childhood best friend.
She struggled to come to terms with his sudden absence from her...
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Life has a funny way of screwing things that screwed you, right up at your doorstep.
It's also called Karma.
The screams of pain bouncing around the cement walls are getting a tad annoying. Sometimes it sucks being both the businessman and the enforcer. I fucking enjoy hurting people, but tonight, I have no goddamn patience for this whiny asshole.
And normally, I have the patience of a saint. Just not tonight.
A six-figure-deal meeting got ruined because of this. I was supposed to be signing it right now but this fucker came in the way.
"Please!" The pathetic excuse of a life screams.
"Scream louder." I taunted, tracing the edge of the sharp glinting knife across the skin of his face.
This pussy stole a total of a hundred fifty-seven million dollars from my company over two years - and had the audacity to run when my men showed up at his doorstep. Oh, and that's not all - he's been selling our trade secrets to the people yearning to see me come crumbling down.
It's fucking laughable. Some time that's going to take.
I bring the edge of the knife closer to his balls, scraping the skin, "This is gonna cut straight through your precious tiny weiner if you don't start speaking up."
Sweat drips down his nose, mixing with the blood on his face. His overgrown greasy blonde hair is matted to his forehead and neck. Guess it's not actually blonde anymore since most of it's painted red now.
I had already cut off one of his ears, along with ripping off ten of his fingernails, severed both Achilles heels, a couple of stab wounds in specific locations that won't allow the fucker to bleed out too quickly, and too many broken bones to count.
Dickhead won't be getting up and walking out of here, that's for damn sure.
"Less crying, more talking," I bark, scraping the tip of the knife against his trembling dick.
"Anderson! I called him." He yells into the thick air.
I hum mocking, "And? What gossip did you tell him?"
"I-I gave him your business event planner and schedules I found in your office d-desk and I also sampled a few of the guns I found in your drawers."
"That's it? Anything else?"
He blinks, "No, that's it."
I drive the knife straight into his thigh. His scream echoes in the room as his body trembles violently.
"You have to tell me everything, Michael."
His sobs reach my ears, filling my nerves with irritation.
