RANCOR

A PEEK

Sicilia, Italy

The squeak of boots as they descended the flight of stairs that led to the basement hit the man's ears, immediately causing him to sit upright, as much as the ropes that bound him allowed.

One by one the men filed in and surrounded him, staying close to the walls. A blonde man hurried in and righted the chair that had fallen down and waited as the last of the footsteps echoed in synchrony with the man's heartbeat.

The kerosene lamp that dimly illuminated the room showed the figure in the form of a shadow that incessantly grew larger as he approached nearer.

And suddenly there he was, the man of the hour. He steps in and it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. The man found his knees buckling as his heart sped up to a painful rhythm. He was imposing, intimidating and the capo di capo. They called him the Emperor.

The man who owned the Cosa Nostra, if a crime organization could be owned. And here was a man who was bound and gagged and guilty of selling the most valuable commodity of them all: Information. Had it been to the FBI or Interpol, his death would've been quick and painless.

A bullet between the eyes, a slice on the neck, you name it. Quick. Painless. But he had sold the information to the Russians. And that meant he would wish that he was dead.

The Emperor took a step towards the chair that had been recently restored to its rightful posture. He sat down, leaning back onto the spine of the chair, his legs spread wide. He seemed relaxed, casual. Just another day in the business.

"Nigel." He spoke. That one word was enough for what life that was left in the captive to bid adieu. Figuratively speaking, of course.

Someone removed the gag from his mouth, enabling him to speak, or that's what he thought until a knife glinted near his mouth. His eyes grew wide.

But he knew anything he did or said was pointless. He had tattled. He knew the score and did it anyway. All for love. He felt like killing himself, even before the Emperor's men had caught up to him. He had fallen hopelessly in love with the Pakhan's bitch. And she had weaseled information out of him before crawling back to the boss, making him a fool in front of the Russians as well as his own.

The Emperor seemed disappointed in him. But he just waves for his boys to get on with it. They removed is tongue and clipped it to the wire that ran along the length of the room. They also applied antibiotic so that an infection wouldn't kill him, which would be too easy.

There hung his tongue for everyone, but primarily for him to see. A reminder. It would be weeks before they doled out the next punishment.

The Emperor left first. They filed out the same way they'd come in, without a sound except for the shuffling of their feet. The click of the lock and the beep of the security pad ensured he was alone. That was when he pissed his pants.

Zeytinburnu, Istanbul

She popped one eye open at the sound of a distinctive click. Footsteps warned her of an uninvited visitor. She sat up in bed and reached for the Glock 26 generation 4 that rested with her under her pillow.

Stealth was her middle name and not without reason. She knew the moment he entered the room. He looks around.

The man wore khaki pants and a black ankle-length coat. Cashmere probably. White formal shirt, tucked in. he reached for the picture frame that rested on her nightstand. The one of her and her brother Ignazio. She raised her arm and pulled the trigger.

The man didn't even realize he was shot until the pain began to register. He cursed and cradled his wrist as he whirled around and there she stood. Dressed in a shapeless garb that the middle-eastern women called the 'parda'. Only her eyes were visible and they were rimmed with kohl. It made brown in her eyes stand out. They held no recognition. He winced as the blood seeped onto the plush carpet on the floor.

"Madha tarid?" she demanded. What do you want? Her voice gave nothing away.

"Iinah mayit" he replied solemnly. He is dead. She was silent for a while, then she gave a sharp nod, dismissing him.

Just as he saw himself out, he heard the unmistakable sound of glass shattering.

"Bastardo!" she yells.

And then he leaves her to her own.