Devils Revenge

~Chapter Fifty-Seven~

"Get the fuck up," a voice hissed. I groaned a little and slowly opened my eyes.

I was hanging from the ceiling by my arms. My wrists were cuffed onto chains which connected to the roof.

I think they had been bleeding for a while due to the immense pressure and strain that had been put on them.

"Keep your head down when the boss comes in. He doesn't appreciate people like you," the guard mumbled. I chuckled dryly.

"We aren't that different in the sense of power," I murmured. The guard stared at me before sending a blow to my face.

My head fell back from the impact and I let out a groan. I could feel blood trickling from my nose down to my mouth.

I clenched my teeth to suppress the urge to kill him.

The only reason I haven't fought back is because I need Victoria safe from all this. If I fight, they'll find her and take her away.

"You can leave," another voice ordered. The man left the room and Ivan came walking in. He smirked and shook his head.

"Look at you," he taunted while grabbing a chair. He sat in front of me, staring at me while I hung from the ceiling.

"You're fucking pathetic," he chuckled. I rolled my eyes.

"How long have i been here?" I questioned.

"Does it matter, you're not leaving anytime soon," he shrugged. I rolled my eyes and he stood up.

"Disrespecting me isn't going to get you out of here, it's only gonna get you into trouble," I couldn't help myself as he began to close the space between us.

"Are you going so sign the contract, hand over your mafia forever, or are you going to sit here and rot?" He questioned. I glared at him before doing the stupidest thing I've done in a while.

I spat on him.

His jaw ticked and his eyes went dark.

He threw a punch at me.

And another.

And another.

And another.

My head went limp and I got so dizzy that I couldn't see in front of me. My eyes got teary from the impact and my nose began to throb.

He turned away from me and went to leave.

"S-Still a weak f-fucking bitch," I whispered.

He turned back around and stormed over to me.

"I dare you, repeat what you just said," he dared me I guess.

"S-Still a weak f-fucking bitch," I repeated with a smirk on my face.

He signalled for someone to come in. They brought in a trolly with tools.

I stilled.

"Strip him, down to his boxers," he ordered. I didn't fight and let them do as they wanted.

"Lower him a little so he's standing on his toes," they started lowering me down so I was just standing on my toes.

"People who disrespect me, are people asking for a death wish," he muttered. He stared at me before turning to the trolly.

"Hammer or screwdriver?" He questioned while picking them both up. He glanced over at me, setting down the screwdriver. He held the hammer firmly in his hand, walking back over to me.

"This is gonna hurt," he warned. He pulled his arm back and struck the hammer to my stomach. I cried out a little and tensed as I felt everything rise up to my throat.