Marco had changed from his signature suit, to a black tank shirt, black sweats and black tennis shoes, his attire when interrogations were going to get bloody...and this one was.
Dre brought him to The Cells, a group of empty rooms connected together by thin walls and on the same property as the main house.
The building itself looked like a huge hangar-type garage on the outside, but once you darkened the doors, you knew it was where death lived.
Soft smacks and thuds could be heard and the closer you got to the sounds, the deeper and harsher the noises became. This was Marco's world.
Each room, eight in all, had sliding wooden doors, like horse stahls, and when Marco slid this particular one back, the stench about knocked him over.
The man, the one Cay shot in the knee, had pissed and sh*t himself, plus the metallic scent of his blood mingled with the already pungent odors and it was only going to get worse.
His face was no longer recognizable, he'd been beaten so fiercely as Umberto and Vittorio had both taken turns while Cristiano trained and learned under them both.
Marco stalked towards the half dead man, slipped on his leather gloves, then roughly grabbed the man's hair and yanked up his head.
"Who the f*ck do you think you are, that you could come into my house, threaten my pregnant wife and son? Huh cagna, huh?" Marco roared, punching the man in the gut. Oh he was just getting started.
The more Marco beat on him, the more blood flung everywhere and now the man was barely conscious so he had Andre put an ammonia inhalant, smelling salts, under his nose, jolting him awake.
"I want to know if you were sent by Whitford. I'm not in the mood to d*ck around, so I won't wait long for answer.
You can have a quick death, or I swear I will draw it out and you will beg to every god known to mankind to end you. What's it gonna be?" Marco asked the man and all he got for his generosity was silence.
"Suffering and slow death it is then" Marco said, going to his bag and unfurling a black pouch full of knives, pliers, straight razors and his personal favorites...ten perfectly sharpened bamboo skewers to be inserted under the fingernails.
The man, even in the semi-conscious state didn't feel it at first but everyone in the room heard the stick as it was inserted, separating the skin from the nail.
And then came his screams, wails actually, begging for him to stop. But Marco's mercy was in very short supply and for the fun of it, he did all five fingers on the man's right hand before stopping.
Their captive gurgled a few times, from his tears, but nothing was ever coherent, so Marco did the salts again and then poured straight alcohol on the man's hand.
His screams echoed throughout the structure until he told Marco he was ready to talk. Finally.
He was all ears. It would seem that Braeden Whitford has been pulling the strings from Chicago all this time.
He was too much of a little cagna to stay in the same town, but his numbers were dwindling because his men wanted to live more than be loyal to him.
They understood the code, where you don't touch another man's family, let alone a Don and if that wife is pregnant, it's even worse if you mess with her then. God couldn't even save you.
After getting a solid location, the last thing Marco asked the man was, what was to have been done to his wife and son. It was self torture wanting to hear it, but Marco was that type of man.
STAI LEGGENDO
The Boss's Heir
Romance"Why didn't you tell me?" Marco's voice boomed with authority as Cay's body shook from his outburst. "I tried" she cried softly. "I was six weeks pregnant, when I found out. I tried coming by your home, everyday for a week, only to be told that y...
