Dangerous Love

02||Visitor

Xavier Romano

Over the course of my family legacy, I have come to believe that we are all bound forever with whom we share blood. While we may not choose our family or who's in it, sometimes that bond can be our greatest strength or our deepest regret.

This fact that I've learned has been with me for fifteen years, it haunts me.

MILAN, ITALY

As I make my way down to the pit, I'm already filled with rage and stench. As soon as I reached the door, I opened it, and immediately the sound of a man's blood-curdling scream made me slam the door.

Evan, one of my best men, is torturing a guy. He hasn't spilled any information on why he and his men attempted to attack us at the docks last night.

I take off my suit jacket neatly and roll up the sleeves of my white blouse. This is the first time in a while that I've felt so much excitement about torturing someone.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I take one good look at him. He has blood spilling out of his mouth and nose, he doesn't even look human. This man looks miserable.

I punch him square in his jaw, as blood splatters onto my face. Wiping off the blood, I exhale deeply before asking the one question I had for him.

"Who sent you?" I grunt out as I lean forward towards him, but he doesn't answer. Of course, after all the beating and torture he still won't budge.

I looked over at Evan who was standing in the corner letting me have him all to myself, I nodded my head signaling him to get me the axe.

He nods his head before exiting the room.

"This is your last fucking time telling me who sent you." I tell him, "I'm gonna kill you."

I see fear in this man's eyes as he looks down at my feet, "P-please, I beg for mercy."

I know I need answers, but I'm smart enough to figure them out myself. Evan came back into the room with the axe in his hand and stood back in the corner.

"I don't give men who try to kill me and my people mercy, people like you don't deserve to live. That's why, you're gonna tell me who sent you, or I'm going to give you a long, painful, death." I said as I motioned my head towards Evan.

He exhaled sharply before looking me straight in the eye, "The man never showed his face, he just delivered us a note and left. No talking, nothing."

"See now, was that so hard?" I questioned before grabbing the axe out of Evan's hand and gripping it tightly.

"No, no, no, you promised that you would let me live if I told you everything and I did please don't kill-"

Off goes his head.

"Fuck, I need a cigarette," I grunt as I pull out my handkerchief and clean my bloody hands.

Blood doesn't bother me like it does some people. I mean blood is in our bodies so I never really understand why people get so freaked out by it.

The first time I saw blood was when I was four years old, I saw my uncle's dead body lying on the ground. He was shot, still wonder how I remember that normally four-year-old kids don't remember anything at that age.

Smoke drifts into the open air from my cigarette and I watch it fade into the light, filling my lungs and bumming me whole. It is a bad habit but compared to what I do for a living, killing, torturing, and murdering thousands of people, I find comfort in it for some reason.