LIGHT TORTURE
Whoever the fuck tied me to this chair to let me hang forward was going to get a bill from my chiropractor. Because of all the ways to be held captive this was number fifty-five on my list. The rope was tight like a python wrapping around every part of me that I could use as a weapon. My back was killing me.
Never mind, it wasn't just my back.
I realized that as I attempted to sit up and shooting pains ripped through my skull and down my spine. My neck felt like someone had stabbed with a knife the size of a butcher's blade. I couldn't help but let out a pained groan. Apparently the hitting and roughhousing hadn't stopped when I was knocked out. The feeling could only be compared to the image of being put in a blender and set on smoothie.
The lights were bright and annoyingly white. I loved LED lights as much as the next guy but damn the lights were so bright that I swear I could see the atoms on the floor. This was already a place that I severely hated. I mean other than the fact that it was the place that I was being held hostage.
My eyes adjusted to the lights and I began observing the small room. It was silver. The floors, the walls, and the door all metal and freezing. I could feel the cold sharp frosty air against my skin like an unwanted hug. I was fully aware that I was in a freezer, half dressed, sitting in a metal chair, with a concussion, and a spinal injury. And by the way my eye was cloudy and it kind of hurt to open my eye, I was rocking a swollen black eye. They touched my fucking face.
I am going to kill them.
Alana bubbled up to the front of my mind and I searched the sterile freezer for nay sign of her. Unfortunately, I was all alone, there was nothing else but me and the chair and the rope. My heart rate picked up at the thought of them touching her. I hadn't protected her like I promised. A part of me allowed myself to be terrified for her but five seconds later I swallowed my fear down and hardened my face.
I would skin them alive.
"Fuckers!" I call out. My throat strained at the level of force that I was pushing out. It hurt. "Hey, motherfuckers get your minuscule dicks out of your mothers diseased cunts and come face me!"
There was a moment of silence before the door hissed open. A man with eyes the color of the bottom of the ocean strolled into the room. He was average looking and a little chubby — the kind of chubby that people didn't acknowledge but couldn't ignore. A round face, kind dimples adorning a straight row of teeth pulled into a dangerous smile, a slight pudge nose, with curly hair that spiraled in a thousand different directions. The man was also very, extremely, tall. He also wasn't a man at all, he was a boy. The same age as me if not younger.
"Where's Alana?"
"Why does it matter to you?" He said.
"Why does it matter to your mom if you fuck her in the ass or her cunt?"
"My mother died of cancer last year." He deadpanned. I instantly recognized his voice as the man that had been talking to Alana before I was so rudely knocked out. Luciano, his name had been.
"Do you want an apology?" I questioned in surprise at his candor. "I don't do well with apologies."
Luciano sneered at me before punching me right in the face. My head snapped away and I let the warm blood fill my mouth. I stared at the ground for a moment as I gathered my senses.
"If you punch me in the face one more time, I swear to god I'll put a bullet in you for every punch." Blood inked from my mouth before I spat at him. The glossy red spit glistened on his face.
He pulls out a handkerchief from his front pocket of his suit jacket and wiped my disrespect from his face. "You're going to pay for that."
"Where my fiancé?" I growl out.
Luciano's eyes flashed in amusement. "Is this what the Northern Dragons has been reduced to? Man, I remember when I used to actually fear you all."
I stared at him. I wasn't going to let him know that his words had actually struck a small nerve. Who was I? I was tougher than this. My pain could be pushed in the back of my mind. I had been trained by assassins and taught a hundred different languages. I was not simple minded and I was not a weak leader. What had I become by protecting Alana? I had gotten to comfortable in the life that we had built in those three weeks.
I hadn't even considered other enemies. I had only focused on Scotty and him.
"Where is Alana Salvatore?"
"We'll ask the questions."
That peaked my interest. Alana had known him, how? None of this made any sense, Alana hadn't been afraid of him, she had been afraid of what he would do to me. So, who was we? How was Alana involved? And who would I have to kill to save my future wife.
I relaxed a little in the chair to give off the care that I was only slightly interested in whatever the situation that I was in. It wasn't hard for me to act cocky and relaxed, but every part of my body was sore. "Who is we?"
Luciano pulls out a blade the size of my forearm. "Why do they call you the red demon?"
"They haven't called me that in a long time." I answer with a smirk. That was relatively true, I went by the demon nowadays, and even though I wasn't fond of killing people. I did it without hesitation most of the time.
Which is exactly what I am going to do to Luciano when I get out of my predicament. I could've escaped by now, I could've fought him while in this chair if I wanted to but I needed more information. The best information came from interrogations; this is how I would find out what they know, didn't know, or suspected.
My shoulder blade stings as Luciano slices the knife across my exposed skin. "That wasn't an answer."
My breathing is rapid as I glare at him. "Untie me and I could answer you."
I could see the fear in his eyes. I know how murderous my glare could be but the weight of my words hung heavy over his head. He knew I could take him if I had the ability to do so. The only thing keeping me in this chair was rope -- not my sore body, concussion, or what felt like broken ribs. If I had my way, in fifteen seconds he would be dead.
"There were two of you once." He says and chills roll down my body that have nothing to do with me being stuck in a freezer. A flash of his face, his eyes, and his voice run through my mind. All he has ever done is cause me pain. "You were the Red Demon and he was the Blue Demon."
"Shut up." I demand angrily. The fury that only he could bring rumbles through me. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
Luciano crouches to look at me straight in the eye, "You brought hellfire over everything. You two were unstoppable until he decided that he needed more, right?"
My mind flashed to him, again. I could see us so clearly, the way I had depended on him. Luciano's story was simple of what happened, too simple and weak. He had been my partner but it hadn't been so black and white. He had always been a boy hungry for power. Starving for it like it was the only thing that gave him life. It was the reason that I had more blood on my hands than I wanted to admit. It was the reason I had Brooklyn's blood on my hands. And now apparently, Diana's as well.
I swallow back my pulsing anger. "I am not talking about him."
This peaked his interest. I could tell by the way his eyes flashed across my face. He was trying to read my emotions but I was as blank as I could get my face. "What was his name?"
"I am not talking about him." I bark out and move forward as if to lunge at him. The ropes keep me stuck and trapped and I can't help but feel the frustration zip through me.
"He's the one that killed Diana Salvatore." Luciano's anger simmered like fire in his eyes. "At least that's what Alana says, so tell me Francesca Grey, who killed Diana?"
I scoffed. A stupid boy, he knew nothing of the person that haunted me. He hadn't just killed Diana, he had done something way more wicked than any of us could ever imagine. "If you know so much then you should know what his name is."
"I know who he was, not who he is, now." Luciano cuts me again and I hiss.
I am going to rip this man into pieces.
"Your guess is a good as mine." I mumble as I gather the strength to say anything. I was extremely weak and the more he added wounds across my body, the weaker I was going to get. I was so unbelievably tired.
Luciano didn't seem to happy with my answer. "He was your closest friend and you don't know who he is, now."
He was more than a friend.
No. I couldn't let myself go back to that time. I had barely escaped. I could not go back.
"I am not talking about him." I say because I wasn't ever going to tell people what he had meant to me. Or rather the person he had used to be meant to me. To this day, I have never spoken of him in detail to anyone besides Brooklyn. I mean, she was there, though and Brooklyn was probably the only one who really understands.
Luciano pops his fingers and steps closer to me so that he can grip my hair. He pushes the blade against my throat and I swallow hard. I don't give him the pleasure of knowing that he is hurting me. It wasn't worth it anymore. I just sit and take the pain because it's easier than going back to the betrayal. To the time where I had trusted him the same way I had trusted myself — there was no doubt or moments of hesitation. Luciano probably would never understand what it feels like to have a part if you stolen away because of someone's complete disregard to your safety: physically and mentally.
"Let's see if we can't make you talk about him." He plunges the knife into my shoulder and twists it. "What is his name?"
"I am not telling you." I muster out through the familiar taste of blood coating my mouth.
"Do you like being tortured? Does this turn you on?"
"You think this is torture?" I struggle to suck in a breath and laugh in response. "This is light work compared to what I am used to."
His eyes were so cold, they looked so much like someone I used to know. The color of the bottom of the sea -- dark, endless, and terrifyingly blue. I had loved these eyes once when they belonged to a different person. A person that had been kind and loyal. Their eyes had been exhilarating to look at and even more so, they had been beautifully alluring. They had been the center of my universe.
"Light torture? We're not even close to being done."
Luciano takes the knife back out before stabbing it back into my shoulder. It's an incredibly crude feeling to be stabbed. Luciano knew that by doing this, I would be terrified that this could be the end of everything for me. I can't be a mafia leader without an arm. I can feel my muscles being ripped apart, the sound of blood squelching, but I know this is all for show. He won't really make my arm unusable, that's not apart of this plan.
I know this to be true when my head is lulled back and looking upwards and I hear him curse in panic. His warm hands the back of my neck and he shakes me to attention. Luciano pulls the knife out and everything goes black. Instead of screaming, I stare deep into his eyes, and faint once again.
__________________________________
Next chapter will be a hoot! I promise y'all.