A muscle in my jaw pulsed. I glanced back at Gio and saw he had the same look on his face as I did. Was Callum bluffing? These men were working for him at the port, obeying his orders when he told them to kill me.
“Let’s see about that, shall we?” I nodded towards two of my men to open the cell and haul him out as I ripped my shirt off and walked over to the sound system. My playlist of Cher’s classics blasted through the underground bunker, and I closed my eyes, allowing twenty seconds for the beats and her raspy voice to settle my bloodthirst before turning to face him.
Callum’s head lolled forward, resting his chin on his chest as he stared at the floor while my men finished tying his ankles to the chair legs and his hands behind his back.
Gio took a step back, leaning his ass against the table of torture toys and folding his arms so I could take over.
“Let’s start with something simple.” I crouched in front of Callum, balancing on the balls of my feet while I pushed my spiked knuckle rings into place, twisting them one by one. “What’s your motherfucking name?”
“Don’t insult me, Buccini,” Callum sneered. “We’ve walked in the same circles for years, and you’re telling me you’ve forgotten it.”
Showing him I wasn’t in the mood for jokes, I sent my fist flying into his left cheek. Three spikes lodged into his flesh on impact, and I twisted my wrist, ripping a pained grunt from him before I yanked my fist away. Scraps of his skin tore away, and within seconds, blood ran down his neck and the left side of his chest.
“Let’s try that again. Santino Buccini, son of Vincenzo Buccini, underboss of Northern Italy, Capo of Rome. Born and raised in Verona. And the man who decides how much of you is still in one piece before you draw your final breath. And you are?”
He worked his jaw, his face wincing in pain against the broken flesh, and turned back to look at me.
“Callum… D’Arden–”
This time, it was my left hook that sliced into his right cheek. I felt a spike pierce his flesh and embed in his gum. He howled, spluttering on the blood that filled his mouth as I ripped it out. He spat a molar onto the floor.
“Santino Buccini,” I repeated calmly. “Son of Vincenzo Buccini. Underboss of Northern Italy. Capo of Rome. And I can do this all night. And you are?”
He dropped his head to his chest, panting hard. This time, he didn’t respond. Admission that his name was a lie. But he wasn’t ready to give up his true identity.
“Okay,” I said, nodding and removing the spikes from my knuckles before dropping them onto the concrete floor. “You like games. So do I. And it seems like you want to drag this out, so we might as well have some fun with it, right?”
I stood up and ordered my men to hang Callum from the cuffs on the ceiling, making sure all his weight was supported by his wrists, but only his toes touched the floor. I grabbed a pair of pliers and made my way to the first of Callum’s men.
“Here’s how the game works. I’m the charming host, naturally, and you are the contestants. You can choose whether to play as a team or by yourselves. I’ll ask the questions and give each of you a chance to answer. If I’m satisfied with your answer, I’ll move on to the next player. If not, there’ll be a painful forfeit.” I smirked at the hatred on their faces. “But here’s the catch. You all get two lives. At any time, a player can jump in and answer for another contestant to steal a life from them, giving them a free pass from that round.”
I cupped my ear, pretending to acknowledge their non-existent enthusiasm. “How do you win the game? I’m glad you asked.” Gio scoffed at my theatrics from behind me. “The winner is the first one to steal all the lives from another player. They’ll be rewarded with a quick death. And the other two… will suffer horrendously slow deaths.” I stared at each of their battered faces. “Any questions before we start?”
When no one responded, I clasped my hands together. “Bravo.Crank that theme tune up, Boss!” Gio shook his head, failing to hide his amusement as he turned up the volume of Cher’sOh No Not My Baby.
“Round one,” I shouted over the music. “Contestant A! Who do you work for?”
Gio paused the music for added effect, filling the bunker with only their laboured breaths.
The soldier shook his head, refusing to open his mouth. I glanced at the man beside him and then towards Callum. “Five seconds to steal a life and answer for him.”
Nothing. Fine by me. The fun had only just begun. I bent down, grasped one of his toes with the pliers, and twisted until I felt the bone snap. He heaved through the pain but remained silent. When all five toes on his left foot were rotated, I stood up and advanced to Contestant B. The man’s eyes were squeezed shut, fully aware of what was about to happen if he failed to answer.
“Contestant B.” I pointed the pliers at Callum. “Who is that man?”
Sweat beaded along his hairline. He pressed his lips together firmly. After breaking five of his toes, it was clear he was the weakest link of the three. He howled like a wolf with each twist.
“Contestant C.” I stood in front of Callum’s dangling body. “The name you were born with.”
He glared at me. I smirked. This would hurt him the most, considering he was holding himself up on his toes. I had to admit; I never thought Callum would be so mentally strong. He hardly flinched.
“Round Two. The other foot.”
I moved along them all again, twisting more toes as they refused to answer my questions. Round three, where I cut off each of their index fingers, and roundfour, where I shattered their kneecaps with a baseball bat, were much the same. Silence.
“Round five. A favourite of mine. An answer or an ear. Your mate Damiano enjoyed this one.” I grabbed my knife and stood in front of Contestant A. He was a burly man, shaved head and plenty of tattoos. The one on his neck was a woman’s name. Sadie. Not an Italian name. Deciding to try a different tactic, I asked, “Who’s Sadie?”
His bloodshot eyes snapped up to my face, and I saw the first flicker of panic. Clearly, she meant a lot to him. The idiot shouldn’t have had his weakness tattooed on his neck for everyone to see.
