Lorenzo's POV
TW: Violence
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The sounds that filled the warehouse were the screams of Ivan Kozlov—my newest acquisition to find Nikolai.
It took weeks for me to finally track him down due to his consistent travels to and from Russia.
He's a close asset to Volkov, being the man knows his actions before he makes them. Kozlov was known to be a blabber mouth, but his tendencies have died down since rumors of Volkov killing his sister to send him a message.
Kozlov hung from rope that was tied to the ceiling. He swung in anguish as the blood dripped from his chest and down to his torso.
He's only been here a few hours, and he hasn't been talking. Like me, he has scars from earlier torture.
I was once taken as retaliation to my father by a man whose identity is still unknown. I've learned to lock the darkest memories of my childhood into a small box and forget about them.
The memories would've done me no good if flashbacks of pain and suffering come to the surface.
I watched Kozlov as he winced in agony from the blade of my knife that was covered in his blood. The sight of him suffering made something spark inside of me.
Is this what my father felt when he tortured innocent men for information?
"Just tell me what you know and I'll stop. Pinky swear." I told Kozlov, while smirking. Knowing it was a lie.
His mouth curled into a small 'o' and he spit in my face. I pointed my tongue on side of my cheek and chuckled while taking the handkerchief from my suit jacket and used it to wipe the saliva from my face. "Wrong answer." I took the knife once again, and punctured his skin while sliding it against his stomach.
Kozlov began to scream out as I glided the knife against his skin while whistling, just as my father did. He'd whistle his favorite songs while humiliating his next victim.
"Enzo.." he gasped with an airy laugh, "I didn't know you had it in you. Y-your father would be proud to know he didn't raise a pussy."
"Funny you mention him. He also taught me how to do this." I stabbed the corner of his skin above his spleen and dug it in deeply while he shouted for me to stop.
Blood covered the area, but I swabbed it away as I continued.
Once I identified his spleen, I began to rip it out. Kozlov hollered, but I didn't stop. "You can live without a spleen, I lived without mine."
I detached it from his body, and showed it to him. Tears streamed down his face, and he tried to control his breathing, but he couldn't.
"I wonder what a spleen actually tastes like," I said, still holding it up, "would you like a taste?" I mocked him, moving it closer to his mouth.
"No! Please. I'll tell you anything. Please!" He cried out, begging me for mercy.
I dropped his organ on the floor, and wiped my hands clean. "That's more like it, tell me about Volkov."
Six years ago
"Dad, please. No." I said, begging him to put down the knife he's holding. "I'm sorry," I cry, trying to convince him what he's doing to me is wrong.
"The more you resist, the more it'll hurt." He said, eying the part of my torso he was about to cut into. "You refused a kill order, so now you will pay the price, son. I didn't raise you this way."
He didn't raise me at all.
He gave me no warning when he stabbed his weapon into my skin. I shriek out in pain, but he never showed me any mercy.
It wasn't the first time he'd physically harmed me, and I know it won't be the last.
My mind went blank as a response to the torture that's being inflicted.
The knife moved left and right into me, and I tried my best to block out as much of the feeling as I could.
"Feel that, Enzo?" My father said, still going, "that's the feeling of regret. I bet you wished you'd killed him now."
I said nothing, only trying to remember the good things. Like Love.
Her laugh, her smile, her wicked sense of humor.
What would she think of me right now? Would she look at me with such pity like I look at myself when I stare into a mirror?
I don't want this life. I never chose it, and I won't abide by it.
It felt like hours before my father finished with my spleen in his hand with my blood covering it. "Now you know how it feels to go against what the hell I say! When I tell you to do something, do it!" He yelled. "No back talking, no hesitation."
"Yes, sir." I try to hide my whimpers.
"Go get yourself cleaned up and hurry back. Tonight I have a business meeting and I want you there."
"What about my wound?" I said in barely a whisper.
"Be a man," he snarled, and I ran as fast as my legs could take me.
Present day
Kozlov revealed valuable information before I slit his throat, like I did the others. I watched the life leave his eyes, and he couldn't speak.
His eyes told the entire story. They were filled with horror, but no regret. He gargled, swinging in the air. His hands were tied, so he wasn't able to clutch at his neck.
Just before I killed him, he told me the places Volkov frequented as well as the men in his inner circle.
"What will we do about the questions, Enzo? Nikolai will be searching for him." Christian untied Kozlov from the rope and he fell to the floor.
"I have no intentions of hiding his death or the fact that he died at my hands." I told him, "that would perceive me as a coward, no?"
"Yeah but-"
"No buts, Christian. I know what I'm doing." I dismissed him, and made my way back to the apartment to get the stench of blood from my clothes.
༺♡༻
I raised up the shirt I had just thrown on after my shower and looked at the list of names tattooed on my back.
My hair was still wet, so water dripped down my neck as I inspected them.
The names are of all the people I've killed in my childhood. Fifty-seven people who have lost their lives because I was afraid to stand up to my father.
Though I felt remorse then, I didn't anymore. The men who were involved in the death of my mother were ruthless, so I have to be the same if I want to find them.
The outline of my back made the letters stand out a bit more, and my gaze stayed on the first man I murdered. I didn't know why, but I knew it needed to be done, or it would be me with my throat slit.
The reminders of these men will forever be embedded in my brain.
I don't deserve love. I don't deserve happiness. And I sure as hell don't deserve the mercy I never showed anyone I killed.
I pulled my shirt down, and walked into my bedroom to rid my mind of the heinous acts I committed.
Hours must've passed by, and I still didn't feel anything for the man whose life I'd just taken away.
I was becoming the worst thing imaginable. I was turning into my father. Heir to the Korean Mafia.
I not only inherited the thrown, but I inherited every single person with a vendetta against my father.
I remember the fifth person I murdered, Byung-ho. My father ordered me to kill him solely because he failed to pay his debt.
Byung-ho owned a small Korean restaurant, and he had a daughter, Seohyun. She had a crush on me during my time there, but I made it clear that I couldn't give her the love she deserved.
I was someone unworthy of love myself, but still I craved it. But not from anyone, from Love herself.
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Super short fucking chapter, sorry again. A longer chapter will be out this weekend. Thanks for 60k, babies!
Also, Happy Hispanic Heritage Month! Be proud of who you are and where you come from. 🇨🇺
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With all my love, L