Rome, Italy. 10 pm
~Dante Saviano~
The painful cries dancing within these walls strike a chord of satisfaction in my ears. It has been going on for two hours—I'm talking about the relentless rhythm of inflicting a razor-sharp blade upon the same, vulnerable region of his thighs. My patience, is like that of a saint yet this prolonged ordeal could have been avoided if this bloody wimp had provided accurate answers. Instead, he remains preoccupied with futile displays of fear and stupid cries.
Without uttering a word, I extend my hand, and my trusted right hand man, Marco, places a small chainsaw in my grasp. The bastard's eyes widen in terror at the sight of the noisy blade, prompting him to retreat against the wall, dragging his nearly severed leg in a feeble attempt to distance himself. What a pussy.
Shaking my head, I advance toward him. He quivers on the ground as I stoop before him, the chainsaw poised near his face.
"As much as I enjoy the sensation of piercing through your flesh, time is a luxury I can't afford," I say to him.
His trembling intensifies, fixated on the menacing chainsaw. "Don't... Don't... Please."
I roll my eyes, frustrated by the futile pleas of these bastards.
I position the saw near his stomach, and he recoils, shaking uncontrollably. "Should I start from here?" I tease, moving the saw even closer. He flinches, desperation evident in his vigorous trembling.
"I'm really telling the truth. Please! I already told you, I worked with no one special but ordinary thugs."
Lies. He wouldn't use my name if they were just ordinary thugs. "Tell me the truth you whimp."
His silence irks me further. Redirecting my frustration, I thrust the blade into his already severed thigh, intensifying his screams. He struggles to move away, but he refrains from shielding with his hands in my way, to avoid them getting chopped off. Blood splatters across me as I continue digging the saw into his leg. I spit out the blood that has splashed in my mouth at his face.
"Since you're useless, I'll fasten your death." I say, moving the saw closer to his stomach. Upon the slight contact, cutting through his flesh, he screams in pain.
"Please! I'll tell you, I'll tell you!"
Ignoring his pleas, I persist in driving the saw deeper into his stomach, provoking a steady flow of blood down his skin. His body convulses, and cries of pain escape him.
"It's an anonymous person!" he sobs, tears mingling with the blood. I cease my actions, shutting off the chainsaw. Blood spurts from his stomach as he clutches it, groaning in agony.
"Yes?" I prompt him to divulge more.
"All I know is that he's from the Moretti family," he adds.
"The Moretti?" I scoff, standing up without uttering a word. The Moretti family's previous boss's involved in women slavery, child trafficking and otters. While I don't really care about whatever business they do, child and women or not, the tiresome nature of their methods irks me. Why resort to such methods for wealth when there are alternative paths that will earn you lots more. The death of the previous boss did bring about a change, as his lousy son, Luca Moretti, who became the boss, discontinued the business.
It seems he finds pleasure in other lousy things than that. So why claim someone from the Moretti family is involved? That could only mean someone is secretly running the business behind their boss's back.
"I really don't know who it is. I contacted him because I heard he's in the business..." he continues, still groaning in pain. "I just wanted more money, please. I had to deceive him, claiming you supported me, as that was the only way he'd trust me."
Squatting before him again, I inquire, "The person who facilitated the child's sale to you—what does he sound like? Would you recognize his voice if you heard it again?"
He shakes his head. "No, he used voice phishing. When we met in person, I didn't see his face, and he remained silent. He operated discreetly."
While the intricacies of the Moretti family's internal affairs hold little interest for me, I've obtained the information I want. I needed to identify who supplied the children and why my name was invoked in the trade.
"It's sad that you will not be able to enjoy the money you got from selling off the children." I grin at him.
Fear grabs his face and he shivers. "No no, don't kill me, please. I've worked for this family all my life. I... I still deserve some mercy."
I smile at him and immediately, all the fears, tears and whatever else he had been exhibiting comes to a halt. He looks at me in the eye, accepting his fate and with that, I slide the saw through his neck, separating his head from his body. More blood splashes everywhere. I rise to my feet and hand the saw over to Marco before taking off my gloves.
"The bastard got me stained." I roll my eyes and turn to Marco. "I need you to carry out an investigation on the Moretti family. I need to know if they're back in their trading business."
Marco nods, "Yes boss."
I stride out of the cell, Marco trailing behind.
"Vincenzo Romano recently attempted to claim one of our warehouses."
I respond to Marco's information with a dismissive eye roll and a shake of my head. Vincenzo has been relentlessly attempting to seize control not only of my territory but also that of the Moretti's and Russo's. Since inheriting leadership from his father, he's become a persistent annoyance. Despite his threats, I've refrained from retaliation, knowing that initiating a war is exactly what he wants, and he wouldn't risk it without substantial backup. The audacity of attempting to take over the territories of three bosses suggests a formidable support system and that is why I ordered for a background check to be done.
"Did you uncover who's supporting them?" I ask as I make my way to my room.
"The Vishnev family from Russia and the Sheng family from China. There may be others we're not aware of yet but we're still looking into it."
Fuck. Their backing is strong. How did Vincenzo secure such powerful alliances? I'll need to take strategic action, starting with addressing the strongest contender, which is the Vishnev family.
"The Vishnev family. Tell me what you've got on them, Marco," I ask.
"Their boss Aleksandr Vishnev has a daughter and a son. His daughter's name is Anastasia, and the son's name is Damien. She's currently 25 while he's 26. She's working as a fashion designer…"
"Tell me something more intriguing, Marco. Tell me, is she married?"
Marco hesitates before responding. "No, she's not, but she's on the verge of being married off to a 55 year old drug lord in Russia."
I pause, running my finger over my chin. "Hmm, an old man, I see." I resume my steps, entering my room and settling into a chair to grab a cigarette. "When is the wedding party?"
"Not a wedding yet, just the engagement party. It seems Aleksandr Vishnev has some unpaid debt with this drug lord, big enough for him to use his only daughter as leverage."
"Tell me more about this drug lord."
"Beside drugs, he's involved in human trafficking and sex slavery, but the women are always coerced into the trade. Nikolai Volkov is his name. He's backed by influential mafia families in Russia as well."
I see why Aleksandr has to marry his daughter off to him. He's got himself in a tight corner.
Marco hands over a phone, displaying a picture of Anastasia. Her red wavy hair cascades over her shoulders, and her bright red lips match the vibrant smile on her face. However, her hazel eyes betray a dullness that doesn't align with her cheerful expression.
Kidnapping Anastasia would be a reckless move, not fitting for someone of my caliber. Initiating a fight is what I'm avoiding, despite my capability in handling it. It would cost the lives of innocent people and it won't be worth it. There's only one move that will not only sever Vishnev's support for Vincenzo but also forge a lasting bond between the Vishnev and I, and that is making Anastasia my wife instead.
First, I must deal with Nikolai Volkov, clear the debt, and position myself as the new creditor.
XOXO