Forbidden Attraction

Chapter 3

Elio

I sit in my office, papers in one hand, and a cup of coffee in the other. I heard some yelling, which can only mean one thing.

Our guest is here. My thought was confirmed when Gabrielle knocked at my door.

"Enter."

"Capo, he's here."

A small smile lifted my lips. Not the nice kind of smiles, but the one a predator has when he finds his prey. I take my silver lighter from the desk, and make my way toward the basement where we keep our hostages.

The room is dark. The only light comes from the moonlight. The guy is sitting on a chair. Both his hands and ankles are tied. I enter the room while opening and closing my lighter, the sound always soothing me, but I can't say the same for the person sitting in front of me. That's a trick I use to terrify them. It's like their death melody, and they know it. The petrified look in their eyes says more than words can.

"How was the drive here? I can see my men entertained you."

His face is full of bruises and dried blood.

"I assume you know the reason we brought you here." He stays quiet again. I kick him below the knee, and a pained scream left his lips.

"I'll take this as a yes."

I take off my jacket and roll up my sleeves.

"Since you don't seem to enjoy little talks, I guess we would skip that part and move directly to the work, shall we?"

His eyes grow big which only made me smile even more. People don't call me cruel for nothing. I'm no angel, and I don't even try to hide it. Nobody apologized for the monster they made me, and I won't apologize for the way I turned out.

"What hand did you use to steal my money mmm?" It seems like the cat ate his tongue. If he didn't scream earlier, I would have just assumed he is voiceless.

"Right hand it is then." I go grab the bottle of benzene and open it.

Sounds like that finally made him open his mouth, but all I hear are useless apologies and begging I'm used to. I feel zero pity, it's like I lost contact with humanity a long time ago.

I start pouring the content on his right hand first, afterword I open my lighter and take out one of my matchsticks from the table.

Normally in movies, you'll find the table used for torturing full of guns or knives. Mine only have innocent matchsticks. Well, not that innocent after all.

I light it and drop it on his hand. The flames start covering it. The orange and yellow mixing together. I enjoy the view of fire, even the muffled screams can't destroy the sense of peace those flames give me.

I was about to start with the second hand when one of my men came to the room.

"Boss, I guess we have a problem."