Alora Imari has the face of an angel, but the body of a vixen. She's feared by all. Her and her elder brother, Giovanni Imari, were passed down the family business; becoming mobsters for the Italian mafia.
Many describe Alora as being heartless and...
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I have my glock in my hand and walk towards the basement. My face is still a little flushed from my... encounter with Salvatore. I push those thoughts to the back of my mind, they're not important... right now.
I see the guy strapped to a chair in the middle of the room. Right next to him is a table with guns, knives, you name it, it's there. Basically, this guy is in for a world full of pain. He's cursing at everyone there, asking to see me. Once I walk in, all eyes are towards me.
"Oh, baby. Let me go, this is useless," he says in a candy sweet voice. It makes me want to rip out his vocal cords.
"Lets have some fun first, hm," I say. "Now," I start, setting my glock down and grabbing a sharp knife, "we're gonna play a little game. It's called: you talk or I skin you alive. Fun, right?" I taunt innocently and throw a cheeky smile.
He chuckles and rolls his eyes. "You'll never get me to talk."
I angle the sharp knife against his jawline, applying enough for him to feel it, but not enough for it to cut him. "Oh, we'll see about that." I apply harsh pressure and slice his jawline. Blood drips out and he groans in pain. "This," a vertical slice down the back of his ear down to his neck, "plus this," a horizontal slice underneath his eye, "will surely get you squealing like a fucking pig."
His panting and groans fill the room and I smile deviously. "Where's the shipment being dropped off?" Marcus asks. Shipment? What fucking shipment? I turn around and furrow my eyebrows at Giovanni. He walks over to me and whispers in my ear:
"He's having a shipment of guns, drugs and ammunition being dropped off in the next two days, but we don't know where."
I nod and turn back to the motherfucker. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he spits. I click my tongue and set down the knife. With his hands tied down, I grab one of his fingers.
"Wrong answer," I say and push his finger back as far as physically possible. I hear the crack of his bone and his high pitched scream. "Let's try this again. Where?"
"No... idea," he says between breaths. I shake my head and grab pliers.
"So loyal," I sweetly say. "How cute." With the pliers, I take off his left middle finger's nail. He yells and tilts his head back.
"Fucking bitch!" He shouts.
"I'm outta here," Christian and Alex say in unison. I knew they had weak stomachs, fucking pussies. They leave, only Giovanni, Salvatore and I in the room.
I tilt my head, giving him another chance. He shakes his head and clenches his jaw. I nod and walk over to the table, setting down the pliers. I pick up a baseball bat and take a swing to his right kneecap. He yells in pain and grips the handles of the chair. He shakes his head again and I click my tongue — another swing to his left kneecap.
