Bound to the Don

Chapter 34

Third person pov...

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After knocking Bruno out cold, Armando gave a quick nod to one of his men. "Take him to the lower cellar," he said calmly. It wasn't just any room. It was the underground dungeon, a place few ever saw and even fewer ever left.

Bruno was carried like dead weight, dragged through the mansion and taken down beneath the building,deep underground. There, in the cold darkness of the cellar, he was strapped to a chair. Thick ropes bound his hands behind his back and tightened around his legs, securing him in place. He looked almost lifeless, like a prisoner of war awaiting judgment.

Armando stood a few feet away, waiting patiently. The room was silent, except for the slow ticking of a clock somewhere above ground.

Eventually, Bruno began to stir.

His eyelids fluttered open, his vision blurred, and he mumbled, "Where... where am I? What's happening?" Then his eyes focused and when he saw Armando standing there, everything came back.

Rage replaced confusion. His body jerked against the ropes as he shouted, "I'm going to kill you! You coward! untie me! Let's end this fair and square!"

Armando chuckled darkly, completely unfazed. "You think I make things easy for my prey?" he asked, tilting his head. "No, Bruno. You're going to bleed to death in that chair. And you're going to follow my every move, cry to my every tune."

Bruno's breath hitched. The anger was still there, but something else flickered behind his eyes now...fear. For a moment, his hatred had blinded him. He had forgotten who Armando really was. He wasn't just a killer—he was the kind who enjoyed the hunt.

Even if Bruno were untied, he wasn't sure he stood a chance.

The silence returned. Then Armando moved. From his coat pocket, he pulled out a slim device, a laser torch. He flicked it on, and a sharp spark lit the space between them. The orange glow cast wicked shadows across his face, making his grin look monstrous.

Bruno's heart pounded in his chest.

Armando didn't say a word as he stepped forward and aimed the burning point at Bruno's throat. The sudden sting made Bruno let out a guttural scream. A raw, desperate sound and a tear slipped down his cheek.

Armando burst into laughter. "Why are you crying?" he said, grinning. "I haven't even started."

Bruno's stomach twisted.

Then Armando stepped aside and wheeled in a metal table covered by a black cloth. He brought it close, made sure Bruno could see. With one swift motion, he yanked the cloth off.

Underneath lay a brutal collection of torture instruments. Whips, blades, clamps, torches. Everything gleamed under the dim light like instruments of hell itself.

Bruno went silent.

The metal table stood there like a twisted altar, its tools catching the low light and gleaming, Bruno's eyes locked onto each item, blades of different lengths, rusted clamps, surgical hooks, leather whips with metal tips. Each piece seemed to whisper a different kind of pain.

Armando didn't rush. He enjoyed the silence stretching between them. He picked up a thin scalpel, holding it delicately between two fingers, like it was art and  turned it slowly in the light.

Bruno's breath quickened.

He stepped forward and dragged the flat of the blade across Bruno's cheek. Not enough to cut but just enough to make him flinch.

Bruno's jaw clenched. "You're a coward."

Armando smiled. "Really? Tell me more!"

With a flick of his wrist, the blade sliced into Bruno's shoulder deeply. Bruno hissed in pain, his back arching against the restraints as blood trickled down his arm.