Achille walked out of his villa and approached a sleek black car parked in the spacious courtyard. He entered, buckled his seatbelt, and took a long breath before pulling away from the curb at full speed, the wind whipping through the open window.
After an hour of navigating winding streets, he arrived at the shadowy outskirts of the city. He parked in front of a nondescript building, its weathered facade covered in ivy, blending seamlessly with the surrounding decay.
Stepping out of the car, Achille looked around, ensuring he was alone, before heading straight for the entrance. He pushed open the heavy wooden door and entered a dimly lit hallway. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and a metallic tang. Peeling wallpaper lined the walls, and the floorboards creaked underfoot.
At the end of the corridor, Achille arrived at a reinforced door. He pulled out a large, rusted key from his pocket and unlocked it. The door swung open to reveal a stark, clinical room. Bright, unforgiving lights hung from the ceiling, illuminating every corner. The walls were lined with soundproofing materials, ensuring no scream or plea for mercy would ever escape.
Various instruments of torture were meticulously arranged on metal trays. In the center of the room stood a heavy wooden chair, bolted to the floor, with leather straps on the armrests and legs. A drain was built into the floor beneath the chair, its purpose clear from the dark stains that surrounded it.
Achille's eyes scanned the room until they landed on his cousin, Enzo, who was sitting astride the chair, hugging the backrest with his legs draped over either side. Enzo looked over his shoulder, his face pale and drawn.
"Cugino," Enzo mumbled. "I... I lost him."
Achille, a mountain of a man, filled the doorway of the torture chamber. His broad shoulders strained against his suit jacket, and his face, etched with worry lines, seemed permanently set in a scowl. Across from him sat Enzo, dwarfed by the heavy wooden chair. Though taller than average, Enzo's lean frame lacked the imposing musculature of his cousin but they both had the same skin color. His golden eyes were now downcast, shadowed by his messy black and silver hair that fell around his pale face. Despite the youthful cast of his features, the glint of steel in his gaze betrayed a darkness within.
Achille sighed. "Stop with the fake remorse. Just tell me everything. What's the bastardo's name again?"
Enzo smirked, stood up from his unconventional position on the chair, and sat down properly, facing Achille with his legs crossed. He held a human skull closely to his chest. "His name is Benito Raffaele, an art collector and businessman who has been selling rare art pieces all over Italy for years."
Achille raised an eyebrow, placing his hand on his chin as he realized something. His eyes glowed dangerously. "Mr. Moretti has been lying all this time."
"Ting! Ting! Ting!" Enzo cheered with a wide grin, his eyes also glowing. "He is such a pathetic coward."
Achille's expression hardened. "Let's be serious. How did you lose our prey this time?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Enzo's smile faded. His cheeks flushed a deep red, and his golden eyes, now downcast, clouded with regret. His lips trembled as he mumbled, a hint of desperation lacing his voice, "He said he saw my sister. She was standing beside me. She was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen."
Achille sighed, lacking the energy to deal with this. He had other things to worry about. He couldn't afford distractions at this point. Reaching over, he patted Enzo on the back, trying to comfort his cousin, though he wasn't very good at it.
"He played you, Enzo. You know it." His voice was a low rumble, laced with a hint of exasperation.
Enzo remained silent, staring at the skull in his hands, deep in thought.
'I wonder when Enzo will finally let go of his sister's death,' Achille thought. He knew the younger boy well and understood his pain better than anyone.
When Enzo spoke again, his tone was firm. "We must find Benito. And when we do, I want to kill him myself." His golden eyes flashed dangerously. "I can take down an entire army," he growled, angry and sad.
Achille sighed, shaking his head in amusement. "I'm glad you're so determined," he laughed. "But we need someone else's help for this."
Enzo gave him a knowing look and sighed deeply. "Can't we do this without that Casanova's help?"
Achille shrugged nonchalantly. "No, we can't. He's the best at getting information."
Achille turned his attention to the far wall, where a series of switches and dials were mounted. He picked up the rotary dial phone, its cord stretching across the room to the desk. He dialed a number with deliberate precision.
'He better pick up this time,' Achille thought, his eyebrows furrowed as he tightened his fist around the telephone.
---
Meanwhile, at the humble abode of the charming Casanova...
The air was thick with anticipation and the scent of expensive cologne in the opulent study. A young man with tanned skin and long silver hair in a ponytail stood by the large bay windows, a glass of vintage wine in hand. He glanced at his pocket watch and smirked, an excited glint flashing in his golden eyes. It was almost time. He had spared no expense for tonight. He sipped his vintage wine, savoring the rich flavor, when the antique telephone on his mahogany desk rang. The sound was a sharp contrast to the calm ambiance of the room.
He set his glass down and walked over to the desk, picking up the receiver. "Lorenzo speaking," he said, his voice smooth and authoritative.
"It's Achille," came the familiar voice from the other side, with an edge of urgency that immediately captured Lorenzo's attention.
"Cugino! It's been a while," Lorenzo replied, leaning back in his leather chair. "What can I do for you this afternoon?"
"It's good you answered my call this time, or else I would have dragged you out of your villa," Achille grumbled, gritting his teeth in irritation.
"Sorry, I got tied up with some important business," Lorenzo said, then paused.
Achille snorted. "Business, huh? You wouldn't know business if it slapped you in that pretty face. Family dinners are a bore to you, and you exempted yourself from the mafia. So, enlighten me, cugino. What 'business' could possibly be more important than the family?" A knowing glint flickered in his eyes.
"Your monthly rendezvous with different ladies, perhaps?" Achille added.
Lorenzo cleared his throat. "It's not my fault. I don't see anything wrong in seeing different women to quench my thirst whenever it happens. I wonder how you do it, though. Yours is insatiable, right?"
"I have a fiancée, dickhead," Achille replied with an irked tone.
Lorenzo's eyes widened. "Oh, right! You've been engaged since you were thirteen... I can't believe I forgot."
"Damn, it sucks to be you. Anyways, what did you want to talk to me about, Cugino?"
"Take a guess," Achille said.
"Ah, I guess Enzo did it again. You should probably remove him from torturing duty. You're the underboss, aren't ya?" Lorenzo replied.
"It's not that easy. There's no one better than Enzo at torturing. He is a terrifying creature," Achille said through clenched teeth.
Lorenzo laughed. "He is not as terrifying as you are." Lorenzo's tone was joking, but his face remained serious.
There was a small pause before Achille spoke again.
"It doesn't matter what you are doing right now, but you have to get over here. As you can see, it's really important," he said firmly.
The line fell silent. The tension between them was palpable, both men waiting for the other to speak first.
"I'll be there in half an hour," Lorenzo said finally.
Lorenzo hung up the receiver and exhaled deeply. He stood up and walked over to the window, watching as a black car pulled up to his villa's private entrance. The driver stepped out and opened the door for three elegantly dressed women. Lorenzo turned and left his study, rushing down the stairs.
As Lorenzo's butler, impeccably dressed in a tuxedo, greeted the women at the door, Lorenzo walked over to them. "Good evening, ladies," he said, his voice smooth. "I'm afraid something urgent has come up, and I must attend to it immediately."
The women exchanged curious glances, their disappointment evident but unspoken. Lorenzo continued, "Please, make yourselves comfortable. My butler will see to your every need. I won't be long."
He turned to his butler and whispered, "Ensure the ladies have everything they desire. I'll return as soon as I can."
With that, Lorenzo grabbed his coat and hat and stepped outside. The air was crisp, and the streets were quiet. He made his way to his car, driving off as he exited the villa's gates.
Driving through the winding streets, Lorenzo's thoughts raced. Enzo's mistake could cost them dearly, and the sooner they addressed it, the better. As he approached the safe house, he steeled himself for whatever awaited him.
He parked and stepped out of the car, the grim facade of the building looming before him. 'I promised myself I would never come back here, but look at me now,' Lorenzo thought as he adjusted his hat.
Just as he was about to approach the front door, it opened to reveal Achille and Enzo.
An amused look adorned his handsome face as he said to Enzo, "Little cugino, how have you been?"
Enzo glared at him as he strode past and went straight into Achille's car.
Lorenzo just rolled his eyes. 'I still don't understand why he acts like that towards just me.'
Achille stood by the entrance, his expression serious. "Forget about that and let's go," he said, his voice resolute. "We have work to do."
Lorenzo nodded and headed to his car while Achille entered his own.