Chapter 2 – Enzo
ENZO
The thud of the cold steel door reverberates off the wall, announcing my presence to the naked ingrate strapped to the metal table in the center of the room.
He’s wearing nothing more than a blindfold.
My head is throbbing. Indignation, like liquid fire, flows through my veins.
Venatti law requires me to repay any debt owed, be it good or bad.
But it’s my loyalty to the family that carries with it the need to end this sorry piece of shit for what he’s done.
I pace around the room, the sound of my heavy boots ricocheting off the steel walls.
This room was made especially for me, for moments like this.
It has all the tools a man of my talent could hope for.
It even has a pressure washer hanging in the far left corner and a central drain for easy cleanup.
Henry once worked for my father, Gianni Levanesse.
Another sorry piece of shit who learned, much like Henry is about to, that I have not one empathetic bone in my body.
Love, fear, and sympathy are all things I don’t feel .
Much to my mother’s disappointment. She had always hoped I would grow out of it, never wanting me to grow up without feeling what it meant for her to love me.
But she was wrong. I knew she loved me. It was in the way she took care of me, protecting me from my father’s wrath.
At some point she became so concerned she had me tested …
multiple times. The doctors—all five of them—came to the same conclusion.
I lack empathy and a conscience. They claimed I have no sense of right or wrong, but that’s only true by their standards.
I understand right and wrong according to Venatti law, and it’s my job to see that it’s followed to the letter.
Though my mother once told me she believed my inability to feel was God’s way of protecting me from the wrath of my heavy-handed, greedy bastard of a father.
My grandfather, Maurice Venatti, the Don of the Family, believes it was God’s gift to this family to have someone such as me whose loyalty cannot be bought or leveraged.
He instilled the importance of family, loyalty, and trust in all of us at a very young age.
To this day, it is the code, the oath we all live by, to protect our own .
“A man without a weakness cannot be bought or broken.” My father’s words of wisdom once spoken to me.
I had two weaknesses as a boy. My mother and my sister.
I can’t say what I felt was love, but my overwhelming need to protect them from my father became the weakness he had been searching for.
The night he took my mother away from me, he learned exactly what type of evil possesses his son.
The kind that kills without remorse and seeks to destroy all who would stand to cross La Famiglia.
I’m fucked in the head, but it seems to serve some purpose.
Sensitivity and understanding have no place in my job as enforcer for the family.
It’s why I’m here now, in a room filled with the powerful stench of urine and perspiration filling my nostrils.
It should repulse me, but instead it fills me with a weird sense of excitement. The evidence of dear Henry’s fear.
I remove his blindfold, needing him to see my face as we continue this little dance of ours.
“There’s just something about the coppery smell of fresh blood that gets the lungs working.
Am I right?” The naked asshole strapped to the hard, stainless-steel table in the middle of the room doesn’t answer.
Instead, he screams, “Please! Stop!” like the little bitch I knew he would be, but it’s of no use.
No one will hear him down here, and his pleas mean nothing to me.
We’re in the basement, the fourth level of The Mansion, a kink club owned by my cousins.
It’s ironic really.
Everyone upstairs is enjoying a little pain with their pleasure, while I’m down here finding pleasure in all of this fucker’s pain.
“Oh, come now. You’re being a bit overdramatic, don’t you think? It’s only a simple flesh wound.”
He grits his teeth. Drool mixes with blood from the cut on his lip, seeping from his mouth to the floor as he struggles yet again to breathe through his pain. I watch, slowly circling him—a predator sizing up his prey.
“You peeled a large chunk of skin from my thigh.” He groans. “It’s hardly a simple flesh wound. Look at all the blood.” He swallows hard, his face nearly translucent as he scrunches his eyes, turning away from the sight.
He’s squeamish about a little blood. Pussy.
A painful grunt, followed by a howling scream, sends goosebumps along my skin as I stab my blade into the top of his right shoulder, pulling down toward his elbow.
A river of red flows down his arm, dripping onto the concrete floor, pooling near the center of the room where it will disappear down the drain and be washed away for good.
The bastard passes out.
“Oh, now, now, Henry. We can’t have you passing out while I’m trying to teach you a valuable lesson.” I tsk, snapping the ammonia salt packet and shoving it under his nose. Henry jumps at the pungent smell. I slap his face hard, causing him to grunt.
“You know, Henry. I rarely shoot people these days. I find it more fulfilling to extract a pound of flesh for each crime that’s been committed.
You, my friend, have committed three crimes against the family, therefore I’ll be taking three pounds of flesh, slowly, deliberately, but first, you’re going to tell me what I want to know. ”
“Please. I’ve learned my lesson. I brought the bricks back.
It’s all accounted for. S-s-see for yourself.
” He stutters fruitlessly, pulling at his binds, causing the chains holding his limbs to scrape along the metal table.
It makes an excruciatingly high-pitched sound like when a fork scrapes across a glass plate, which only serves to piss me off further.
“While it’s true three bricks of the cocaine you stole have been returned,” I spin on my heels, gripping his throat in the palm of my hand, squeezing as he sputters, gasping for air.
“Not everything is accounted for. Is it Henry?” I lean in close, gripping the hair on the top of his head tightly.
“Remember, I rarely ask questions I don’t already know the answer to.
So, think long and hard before you lie to me again. Hmm.”
“I only had three bricks!” Henry whispers as loudly as he can.
“Then where are the rest? Because we know you stole a total of six. We have you on surveillance, Henry.” I let go of him and slowly pace around the table, gently tracing along his skin with the tip of my knife.
“I don’t have them! I swear! I don’t know where they are! I only had three!” Henry screams. “Please. Please. I swear to you I don’t know.”
“Here’s where the problem lies, Henry.” I pause. My knife poised at the side of his other thigh. “They aren’t our bricks, you stupid shit!” I shout as I plunge the knife into the fleshy meat of his quad. Again, the little bitch screams. His head rolls. He’s trying to pass out again.
I sigh, walking back to where his head lies, grabbing the ammonia and waving it past his face once more, waking him up. “You really need to work on your stamina, Henry.” His eyes widen. A small glimmer of hope staring back at me.
Stupid fucker.
“The bricks you stole belong to the Mesias Cartel.” His eyes widen. There are few people who don’t know that name in our world. They are ruthless bastards. Their methods often rival my own.
“Our agreement with them stipulated they could move their shit through Dallas under our protection, so long as none of it was distributed in our territories. We don’t need that kind of heat on our backs.
But see, your little fuck-up created an issue for their deliveries.
The people who paid for their shipments are not happy about the delays.
Devante Mesias offered a very substantial reward for anyone who brings the thief to them.
” Henry’s eyes widen, his body is trembling, making that disgusting sound with the chains again.
Grabbing the chain around his wrist, I silence the clatter and tell him the good news.
“Luckily for you, I’ve returned their merchandise with a little extra from our vaults for good measure, and the promise to handle the thief myself .
” My voice is low and menacing, in his ear.
I release his hands and grip his throat. Henry begins to thrash once again.
“I even opted not to take the reward. Killing a traitor to the family is reward enough for me.” I wait until his eyes are glassy and his lips turn blue to release him. As much as I’m enjoying watching his face turn color, we’re not through here.
Henry coughs, gasping for air. I step back and begin running the edge of my blade along my hand, tracing the outline of my fingers with each pass.
“I only stole the bricks. That’s still only one crime.” The asshole tries to reason. I smile. I know this game. Every captive plays it.
First, they beg and plead for mercy. Which never works on me.
Then they try to act like they’re not afraid to die.
Which only makes me want to prove them wrong, and I do.
Every Fucking. Time. And when none of that works, he’ll try to goad me into losing my temper, to kill him quickly, and ease his torment.
He’s seeking mercy. Something I am not capable of giving even should I want to.
“You need me to reiterate your crimes? Very well.” I tightly grab a handful of Henry’s hair and force his head back so we’re eye to eye, running the tip of my blade down his right cheek. His hair is soaked with sweat. His breathing is choppy. The terror in his eyes brings a wicked smile to my face.