Dangerous Heart . The Mafia Boss's Love .

Chapter 34

Tigger Warning:
This chapter contains scenes of torture, graphic violence, intense distress and mature content.. Reader discretion is advised, as some material may be disturbing for certain readers. If you are uncomfortable with these themes, please feel free to skip ahead.

Luca

"Aaaaaaggghh!!!" Miguel's screams echoed throughout the warehouse as I snapped another one of his fingers. "Are you going to tell me who ordered you to pin the hit on Edward Harrison on me?"

"No hablo inglés," he choked out, squirming against his restraints.

"Lying piece of shit," I growled, gritting my teeth as I snapped yet another finger. "One more finger left on this hand. Start talking, or I'll start snipping the fingers on the other one."

He screamed again, his cries filling the room, but the bastard was stubborn. Even after we'd spent hours with a towel over his face, pouring water down to choke him, he hadn't broken.

We'd brought him back to L.A. from Santa Cruz by speedboat, it took around three hours. Not ideal, but my warehouses in San Pedro Bay were all soundproof and well-guarded. It was easier to bring him here than keep him in Santa Cruz—a bunch of dangerous looking guys in suits walking around a laid-back surfer town would've drawn way too much attention.

Not long after we landed, we found this piece of shit in a brothel, of all places. I had to admit, the look on his face when we barged in was priceless—especially since he was buried balls-deep in a woman old enough to be his grandmother.

We told her we were Feds and that he was a wanted criminal. A quick slip of cash into her palm silenced any curiosity she might have had, especially after we knocked him out and hoisted him onto the boat. She seemed to understand that some questions are best left unasked.

"Por favor," he gasped, sweat and tears streaming down his face. "No hablo inglés."

If he says that one more time, I swear, I'm going to fucking rip out his jugular.

Adán stepped forward, his smirk curling into something darker. "Let me handle him. If he doesn't start singing, then you can snip."

"Fine," I replied, my gaze locked on Miguel. "But if he doesn't speak within five minutes, I'm coming back to finish the job. His right hand's done—next, I'll start with the fingers on his left."

I take a step back and watched as Adán crouched down, his words sharp and biting as he interrogated Miguel in Spanish. At one point, he held up his phone, showing Miguel something on the screen. Miguel went deathly pale, but a second later, he burst out laughing, mocking Adán with something that dripped with disdain. Adán's face darkened, and he spat, "Hijo de puta!" His patience snapping, he grabbed the clippers and sliced through two of Miguel's fingers without a second's hesitation. Miguel's scream ripped through the warehouse, blood splattering onto Adán's clothes and pooling on the floor.

Adán rose, disgust twisting his features as he glanced over at me. His voice was a low, vicious growl. "This bastardo ain't gonna talk. Let me kill him now. End him for Ed. At least mi prima will have some closure." He pulled out his gun, leveling it at Miguel's head.

"No!" I snapped, stepping between them. "I need to know who's framing me. Killing him won't get us anywhere. I've got something better—something that'll have him begging to talk." I turned toward my men. "Carlos!"

"Yeah, boss?" Carlos answered, stepping forward.

"Bring out the vice grip." I glanced back at Miguel, letting him see the cold resolve in my eyes. Recognition dawned on his face, quickly replaced by sheer terror. His screams started again, ragged and desperate, his body jerking so hard he pissed himself. Even Adán took a step back, a shadow of unease in his eyes.