Angelo berated himself for his stupidity, he was being mercilessly used as a punching bag by the mafia gorillas whilst he was tied to a chair. His head pounded and flickering stars created a spinning halo around his head. His vision was blurry from countless hits in the face, his lip was obviously bust.
A fist landed another punch under his eye, twisting his head to one side. One more smashed against his jaw. F*ck. That one hurt like a son of a b*tch. None of this would have happened if he had not been so confident about his skills and ability to creep away if necessary.
One week ago
"Alvaro!" His boss called him. "I have good news for you! There's a new contract."
Angelo stayed quiet. His stone face belied his emotions. He was sick of being a hitman, of killing. He had fallen into this sh*t because his good-for-nothing father had run away, leaving him, his mother and his sister a huge debt.
The following day, large men dressed in full suit had turned up on their doorstep. Only then had they found out their father had got involved with mafia.
Instead of killing them or selling them into slavery, the boss of the Carvelli family had taken him under his wing, and taught him how to be a hitman, so he could pay off the debt. It had been 15 years and he still worked for the Carvelli family.
"Rejoice, Alvaro. This shall be your last kill. After this, you're free to go wherever you want, if you survive the job, that is."
"Target?" Angelo curtly asked, ignoring the last sentece. All those years and the head of the Carvelli family doubted his skills? What a bastard. He would have had killed him long ago if not for his family. He was prepared to hide from the mafia for the rest of his life, but he could not ask the same from his mother and sister.
"Dante Serraino-DiGiovine, the 16th head of the Serraino-DiGiovine family."
Angelo tasted copper in his mouth. He spat blood on the stony floor. One of the guys surrounding him threw a punch. This time it made contact with his abdomen, forcing him to double over in pain.
"Who sent you?!"
The reason why he had not been killed yet, but had to go through this ordeal was because the gorillas were determined to beat the name of the contractee out of him.
He straightened in his seat, looked the torturer in the eyes and spat in his face. Bad idea. A loud cracking sound resounded in the room as the torturer's fist struck him again.
As the beating continued, a dark form that had been standing in the shadow moved towards Angelo. The torturers stepped back.
Angelo sensed a powerful presence looming over him before he found enough strength to lift his head. It took a few seconds for his eyes to focus on the man in front of him.
A large hand grabbed him by his dark hair and pulled his head backwards, hard. He winced from the pain. He felt like his hair was going to be pulled off, his scalp was screaming.
His eyes fell on the face of the most dangerous man in Italy, the 16th head of the Serraino-DiGiovine family - Dante Serraino-DiGiovine. All mafia bosses were dangerous, but this one took 'dangerous' to a whole new level. He was nuts, insane, a madman. A psychopath.
There was nothing holy to the man. He did not shy away from killing women or children. He would calmly walk up to a person who had offended him and shoot them on the spot, no matter the place or time.
"Spit it out, who sent you?" His cold, rough voice demanded. He was so close Angelo could feel his warm breath. It smelled like tobacco and whiskey. Traitor. The bastard should hang for his preference for whiskey over wine. It would not surprise him to find out that he also preferred mince pie to pasta.
"Your mother?" He smirked but he regretted the act shortly after. Smiling with a split lip was not a great idea.
His witty remark earned him a powerful hit from the psychopath. His head was once again pulled painfully backwards.
"I've turned my mother into food for worms 8 years ago, so it couldn't have been her," He said as if he were talking about weather. He was truly mad, Angelo thought.
He glared at Dante, fire burning in his eyes. He was going to die so he might as well die with whatever little honor he had left. He was not going to leak the name of the contractee. Not to this monster with matricidal tendencies whose fist was more bone-crushing than those of his gorillas.
Dante watched his captive with great interest. The hitman was beautiful. Even with the cuts, bruises and swellings on his face, he could still recognise the strong features. His eyes were two burning emeralds, they were what attracted Dante most.
Even in this situation, his eyes were alive, boldly glaring at the boss of the Serraino-DiGiovine family. Others would have turned their gaze anywhere else just so they would not have to look him in the eyes for fear they would lose them. But it would be a pity to gouge out eyes as pretty as his captive's.
Dante went to whisper something to one of his men. He and the others untied Angelo and hauled him to other room where he was forced to lie on a table, he had not resisted because he was groggy from all the beating.
His boots and socks had been taken off, his legs were lifted in the air and attached to the chains that hung from the wall behind his head. They kept his legs close to his torso, his feet almost touching the sides of his head, Angelo's arms were secured above his head.
After they made sure he would not be able to run away, they left him alone with their boss. Dante stuffed Angelo's mouth with his own tie. He then took a knife and cut Angelo's coat and shirt to pieces.
Angelo wondered if Dante was going to be his torturer. Why had he put him in this humiliating position? Did he want to castrate him? F*ck! He struggled against his bonds. If the psychopath unmanned him, he would slit his wrists and bleed to death if the man did not kill him first.
He loved sex. With disappearance of his testicles, his libido he was proud of would also disappear. Besides, what woman would let a eunuch stick his dick into their honey pot.
"Only now are you struggling?" Dante smirked, seeing his beautiful captive fighting against his bonds. He had not uttered a sound when his men had been beating him, so he figured out that violence was not the right way to make him scream.
He slid the knife lightly down Angelo's body with a lecherous look and stopped at his crotch, Angelo immediately stilled.
"Have you ever had anything up your ass, hitman?"
Angelo's brows furrowed. He can't mean... Crap! He was in deeper trouble than he had thought.