Made For You

Ch. 11: Interrogations

Gabriel

"For the Don of the Conclave, it disappoints me to see how you're failing to live up to your reputation."

The sardonic tone of Rocco's ex-bodyguard, Federico, cuts through the air. For someone who is tied with chains in the shabbiest namesake dungeon, one could find in all of New York, his bravado is impressive.

"Shut up," Fabio snaps at him, stepping over one of the chains tying him down which causes the metal to cut through Federico's mangled wrists.

We captured the man a week ago—after scouring the globe for him. We finally managed to nab him in Rhode Island while he was trying to escape from there.

He is still in the same clothes he had been wearing since days ago, although they are torn now and the parts baring his skin ooze infected blood from the torments inflicted on him. He is a grouchy man, tall and thick like a bodyguard is expected to be. His teeth are red streaked from all the hits he suffered in the mouth while choosing to remain quiet about the man who paid him.

I watch the red wine slosh over the rim of my flute as I swirl the liquid. The interior of the shed is dark and infested with rats and other rodents, insects, and creatures including snakes buzzing around. The only thing clean in this place is the throne-like chair I had brought in just now which is being occupied by me. This is the original shed that came with the property. I restored it to make it my personal torture chamber. I didn't wish to taint the interiors of my posh mansion with assholes like Federico's blood.

Fabio is standing beside our prisoner with his arms folded as he delivers a twisted expression at the man.

"It's funny seeing you fail..." Federico chuckles darkly, drool slipping from the corners of his mouth. "Everyone knows how weak you are—"

"I said shut up!" Fabio bellows, throwing a fist straight for the man's jaw.

Federico's head swings back at the impact. However, he continues laughing.

"Let him be, Fabio," I say to my brother, taking another sip of my drink as I watch the psychotic criminal continue to laugh.

His laugh descends slowly as he peers at me.

"You're a weak bastard, you know that?" He persists with his taunts. "Your cazzo is limp. Your woman must have a hard time pleasing herself when you fuck her."

"Kill him, Gabriel," Fabio seethes, glaring at Federico's bald head.

I down the rest of the drink, letting the glass drop on the hardwood floor with a shattering sound. I rise from my seat, buttoning my suit.

"Yeah, he's right," Federico jeers. "Kill me. I ain't revealing jackshit to you. You might as well pin me to the cross."

I scrunch my nose up, pretending to be offended, and make an upside-down cross with two fingers.

"We don't talk religion here," I say calmly, much to Federico's disappointment.

His nostrils flare like a bull's. "Religion is a blasphemy. I bet you think so too." He shifts in the chair, tilting his head as he watches me. "I saw her, you know?"

Fabio gives me a narrowed-eyed look before turning to Federico.

"Who?"

Federico brushes off Fabio, his attention on me. "Oh, she's pretty. She was in the garden out back." He points to the small window high up which is the only one in the shed and from which the rose garden outside is visible. "I had a peek at her lovely figure. I wanted to fuck her."

My blunt nails find my palm, my jaw clenching. Bitter rage travels through my body—creating a burning symphony. I itch to lunge across the room and snap his neck off.