Page 17 of Giovanni the Savage

“Welcome, Boss.”

I nod and step closer to the man. Five of my other men are standing by the wall in the room, all keeping guard and alert.

There’s someone strapped on a chair in the middle of the room. I’ve had different prey, and I always have a mental picture of their appearance before seeing them. But somehow, I didn’t imagine my prey to be a graying bald man who looks like he can barely walk. I run a quick assessment of his physical appearance. He looks battered and his feet are bare.

His body is a bloody mess. There are deep, visible cuts covering nearly every inch of his reddened skin, and he’s emitting an odor that tells me he’s pissed himself already. He’s going to be doing more of that. His eyes are closed, and his head bent, but there’s a bloody wound on his mouth.

“He’s just slumped, Boss,” Kai, one of my men, announces as he comes closer to open my toolbox.

Still looking at me, I pick out one of my tools and buzz it on. I’m not about to get myself messy by dousing him with water, so this will do.

I clip the device onto his neck and press a button. It buzzes noisily while sending electric currents to his neck, instantly shocking him awake.

“Fuck!” He splutters blood from his mouth and shakes his head as he’s being zapped awake.

I see a sadistic smile on his face when he looks up at me, and that’s when I see it. The danger lurking beneath his pitiful looks. Conveniently, they’ll use him to execute their plan.

His eyes widen when they meet mine, and fear replaces stubbornness.

“Please don’t kill me!” he wails and executes a failed attempt at scooting away from me.

I shrug. “That depends on you.”

“I’ve told them everything I know, please,” he cries out.

I smirk. “If you have, we wouldn’t be here.”

I turn a chair over and situate myself in front of him.

“I’m going to be very direct,” I seethe, looking into his empty gray eyes. “And all I want are direct answers.”

He nods while holding back tears.

“We can make this easy, or difficult,” I warn again. “Your choice.”

“I swear, I’ll tell you what I know!” he wails again.

“Where were you on the night of the raid?”

My voice is dangerously low, and the tip of my knife is inching closer to his thigh.

“I was sick, I …”

I don’t allow him to complete his lie before the knife is driving through his thigh.

“God, fuck you!” he yells.

The first sign of his noncompliance.

“Now, the truth.”

“I’m not lying!”

I plunge the knife deeper, emitting screams from him. Blood gushes out of his latest stab as I pull the knife out.

“Isn’t it a bit unsettling, that you were on duty that night, but somehow, you didn’t show up?”

I’m having a normal conversation like I didn’t just draw blood from his thigh.

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