Vince
Scene: The torture room
The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with a sense of dread. The faint flicker of a single bulb cast ominous shadows on the cold, concrete walls, its light swinging gently from a frayed cord. Each sway painted grotesque images that seemed to dance on the gritty surface, intensifying the eerie atmosphere. The silence was thick, almost tangible, broken only by the occasional drip of water from the ceiling and the muffled sounds of distant traffic above.
I stood in the center of the room, my expression an unreadable mask, a stark contrast to the chaos around me. The air felt suffocating, filled with the acrid scent of fear and sweat. Before me, Robert was tied to a chair, his wrists bound tightly with coarse rope, his ankles similarly restrained. His once pristine suit was now torn and stained, his face a canvas of bruises and cuts, his eyes wide with fear. His breathing was rapid and shallow, each breath a ragged gasp that echoed in the oppressive silence of the room.
I kept my demeanour calm, knowing it unnerved him. This was a side of me few had seen—a side that was ruthless, merciless—like my father. I had always been the composed leader, the one who kept his emotions in check. But now, as I looked at the man who had threatened Sophia, something dark and primal awakened within me. A cold fury simmered just beneath the surface, restrained by a thin veneer of control.
"I've heard your leg is better now, Robert," I said, my voice eerily calm, each word deliberate and measured. I picked up a knife from the table, the blade glinting ominously in the dim light. The steel was cold and unforgiving, its edge sharp enough to slice through flesh with ease. "You made a grave mistake by trying to harm her."
Robert's breathing became erratic, his eyes wild with panic as they flitted around the dimly lit room, seeking an impossible escape. The crushing weight of his helplessness settled over him, his body stiffening with a blend of terror and despair. "Please, Vince. I can make it worth your while… I'll hand over every company I own," he begged, his voice quivering with desperation.
My grip on the knife tightened, my knuckles blanching from the pressure. The fury within me surged, a searing rage that threatened to shatter my composed facade. "Do you truly believe Sophia's suffering can be compensated with your worthless companies? You forced her to endure her darkest fears again, and I will not allow that to happen again." My voice was a low and menacing, each word laced with venomous intent.
With a swift motion, I slashed the knife across Robert's cheek, a thin line of blood oozing from the wound. Robert screamed, the sound piercing through the thick silence of the basement, reverberating off the walls. His body jerked against the restraints, his eyes wide with shock and pain.
I leaned in close, my breath hot against his ear, and whispered, "That's just the beginning." I stepped back and examined the array of tools laid out on the table. There were pliers, a blowtorch, and an array of sharp instruments, each meticulously selected for their capacity to deliver exquisite pain and cater to my particular tastes. Luca truly understands my preferences
I selected a pair of pliers and gripped Robert's hand, his fingers trembling uncontrollably. With a steady hand, I clamped the pliers around his thumbnail and began to pull. The sound of the nail tearing away from the flesh was sickening, a wet, tearing noise that echoed in the confined space. Robert's screams were deafening, his body convulsing violently against the restraints.
"Please, Vince! Stop!" he begged, his voice cracking with desperation. Tears mixed with blood and sweat streamed down his face, pooling at the base of his neck.
Ignoring his pleas, I continued my methodical torment. I moved to his other hand, repeating the process with a calculated precision. Each nail that was torn free elicited fresh screams, each more desperate than the last. The sight of his blood, the sound of his pain—it fueled the dark satisfaction that had taken hold of me.
Next, I reached for the blowtorch. The hiss of the flame as it ignited filled the room, casting a hellish glow on the concrete walls. I brought the torch close to Robert's nail-less fingers, the heat searing the flesh without making contact. The anticipation was part of the torture, the knowledge of the pain to come.
When the flame finally kissed his skin, the reaction was immediate. Robert's body arched against the chair, his screams reaching a new pitch of agony. The smell of burning flesh was nauseating, but I forced myself to remain focused, to see this through.
"These were the same fingers you used to force Sophia on you, right? You should have thought about the consequences," I said, my voice steady despite the chaos. "You should have known what would happen if you crossed me."
I turned off the blowtorch and picked up a thin, sharp needle. I held it up, letting the dim light catch its tip, before driving it under Robert's hand. The precision required was immense, but I had honed my skills for moments like these. Each insertion was slow, deliberate, meant to maximize the pain.
Robert's screams had turned to sobs, his strength waning with each new wave of torture. His once defiant eyes were now filled with defeat and terror. "Please, Vince... I have a family...," he whimpered, his voice barely a whisper.
I paused, my breath heavy. The man before me was broken, his hands a testament to my relentless resolve. Yet, there was still a part of me that felt no remorse, no pity. This was justice. This was retribution for Sophia's suffering.
"That was... thrilling," I said, my voice dripping with menace. "I really enjoyed today's session, but the fun is only just starting. We have three more weeks ahead, and trust me, you won't want to miss a moment of it. Don't even think about dying on me." My eyes locked onto his with an intensity that promised nothing but pain if he dared defy me.
Robert nodded weakly, his body trembling with fear. The look in his eyes was one of absolute terror, a stark contrast to the defiance he had shown earlier. I turned and walked out of the room, leaving Robert to the darkness and his own tortured thoughts. As I ascended the stairs, the weight of what I had done settled over me, but the satisfaction of having protected Sophia remained, a small comfort in the face of the darkness I had embraced.
Upstairs, I found Luca waiting in the dimly lit hallway, shadows dancing across his face. His eyes were locked onto me, a storm of respect and unease swirling within their depths. I could sense his silent acknowledgement of the transformation in me—an unchained fury veiled with a veneer of elegance.
"Luca, walk with me. " I murmured, my voice slicing through the silence with the remnants of my earlier rage. "I need you to deliver a message to all our men."
Luca inclined his head, his posture tense, awaiting my next words.
"When they are near Sophia, not a single gun should be visible," I commanded, my gaze piercing through him. "They should be there, but they must remain concealed from her sight. Do you understand?"
Luca's brows knit together in perplexity. "But, Vince, what if something awful happens? We need to be prepared to guard her."
My eyes hardened, the darkness within me refusing to waver. "I won't have her living in fear, Luca. She has endured enough. Ensure that our men understand this. I want no trace of danger near her."
Luca's expression softened as he absorbed the weight of my words. "I'll make it clear, Vince. No guns near Sophia, unless when necessary."
"Thank you. Now, go make sure Robert remains alive until I'm finished with him." I said, my voice trembling with an undercurrent of dark resolve.
As I turned a corner towards my office, I nearly collided with Sophia. She stumbled back, her eyes wide with shock as they fell on me. For a heartbeat, time seemed to freeze. Her gaze flitted over my blood-stained shirt, my hands smeared with crimson streaks. The sight must have horrified her.
"Vince, oh my god, are you okay?" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with genuine concern.
I met her gaze with a steely, unreadable expression. The darkness within me was evident in my eyes—a stark contrast to the calm demeanour I usually maintained. I took a step closer, letting the silence stretch between us.
"It's not my blood," I said quietly, my tone devoid of warmth or reassurance.
Sophia's breath hitched, her mind scrambling to process the implications of my words. "Whose blood is it, then?"
A cold smile twisted my lips, faint and almost sinister. "It's Robert's. He needed to be taught a lesson."
Sophia's gaze was fixed on me, her expression a tumult of horror and confusion. The room felt colder, more suffocating, as the weight of my words hung heavily in the air between us. Her eyes, once warm and trusting, now flickered with apprehension, her face paling as she processed the grim reality of the bloodied evidence before her.
"What… what did you do?" Her voice was barely a whisper, the tremor betraying her fear and a flicker of something darker, perhaps even fascination.
I took a deliberate step closer, my eyes never leaving hers. The dim light accentuated the hardness in my gaze, a reflection of the storm that raged within. "I did what needed to be done," I said, my tone cold and devoid of remorse. "Robert threatened you. He caused you pain. I had to make sure he understood the consequences of his actions."
Sophia's breath quickened, her fingers clutching at the fabric of her dress as if seeking some semblance of security. Her eyes darted to the blood-stained shirt, the crimson streaks vivid against the stark whiteness of the fabric.
I reached out, my hand cupping her face with a possessive grip, my fingers pressing gently but firmly against her delicate skin. The contact was electrifying, a juxtaposition of tenderness and control.
"This is who I am when you're threatened," I said, my voice softening slightly but retaining its cold edge. "When it comes to protecting you, I'll do whatever it takes. No matter the cost."