Reds' Mafia Leader ✔

Chapter 3 - Job

"What in the world do you mean?" I questioned him, hands on my hips, lips pulled into a pout.

"This is a torture room and knowing Vinchenzo when he employs someone he doesn't let them leave unless they're twenty feet under." He said as he brushed his thumb pad over the shiny black steel of his gun tucked into his pants, "He's very serious and quite strategic. I'm afraid you getting caught in the crossfire was a huge misfortune for you, you'll never leave this damned place 'till you die."

Wait 'till I get the FBI on you. I thought to myself as I pushed against the tiled floor hoping to rid the floor of the horrid smelling hematic stain.

"Omèrta," I whispered.

"Omèrta indeed. Vinchenzo requires all of us to be imprinted with the Vitali crest. We die but never reveal this family. I quite enjoyed my initiation." He said with a sly grin.

"Ah, what happens at these things?" I asked trying to collect information.

"You'll see Stephanie when you get pulled into the family," Tristiaan said before he left me alone in the torture room fussing over every word he'd spoken.

I continued scrubbing the floor the red stains slowly coming off, allowing me some peace of mind. I stared at my hands that were both red, small marks caused by the cloth were engraved into my skin.

I sighed as I looked at the metal bucket filled with red water and finding it a huge contrast to the chartreuse coloured walls that surrounded me, suffocating me with their arms. I felt them closing in on me, moving in a calculated manner to snatch my last breath away.

For some reason, claustrophobia swept in as my mind whirred busily trying to create images of what could have possibly happened in this room, in this very spot I sat in. The walls kept their suffocating hold while the ceiling took on the job of a fan as I imagined helpless women, all beaten, screaming for help with no one to aid them.

Working as an agent I had seen images that were brought in. Images of the dismantled bodies, or bodies that had been disgustingly hacked, or eyes that were gouged out or some that were even killed by asphyxiation. I'd seen images of women and men that had swollen faces, cut lips and bruised bodies with broken bones indicating constant physical harassment. These images often made my heart feel extremely heavy.

The door banged open, I snapped my head up and found Vinchenzo inspecting the room and then his eyes turned towards me, viewing my appearance that probably didn't look too appealing.

My red hair was most likely dishevelled, my forehead coated with a layer of sweat. My face and neck were probably red and my hands were wrinkly and gross like a prune.

"You've done a good job here, Stephanie." He gritted as he pulled out a cigar and quickly lit it before he took a long drag.

"You're supposed to say grazie!" Dantè hissed his gun pointed at me.

[Thank you]

"Grazie," I said shyly, hating the fact that I couldn't properly pronounce the Italian word.

[Thank you]

"Good girl," Dantè said, his expression was scary, his snake eyes were glaring at me and his gun was still drawn as he monitored and watched every small insignificant move I made.

"I need you downstairs." Vinchenzo said puffing out a chest full of smoke, "You'll work alongside Nora and Sienna." He informed me, his eyes still had a malicious glint in them.

I nodded, "Of course."

"Dantè here will take you. Be good to him or he won't hesitate to make your death a slow and painful one." Vinchenzo threatened before he spun on his heel and walked out into the dark passageway.