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Splash
"Rise and shine, fucktard" Alessandro announced splashing a bucket of water onto the shooter's face.
Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a British accent. I didn't have to think twice to know whose man he was. Russells had some fucking nerve to mess with me, to mess with my wife.
His hands were bound to the ceiling and his feet were tightly bound to the floor in a dingy cell. His face is bruised and he may have a broken bone or two. He whimpered in pain as ice-cold water trickled down his bloodied face and body.
I bet he was feeling good when he shot my wife.
The shooter looked around before his eyes settle on me. He knew who I was and why I was here. He took in his surroundings when another bucket of ice-cold water was thrown over his face, followed by another and another.
"Stop!" he said, his breathing ragged and short. "Please!" he begged while coughing out water that entered his lungs.
"Who sent you?" I asked
"You know who sent me," he coughed.
"Who gave the order?"
"Grace Russell."
I scoffed. He wasn't fun, it's fun when they struggle and welcome the pain. When they cry out in agony and still refuse name names. This wasn't fun, a few buckets of cold water and he gave up the name. I wasn't done with him yet, he shot my wife.
He shot her and now she is lying in that hospital bed fucking unconscious. He had the nerve to point his gun in her direction. He thought he'd get away with it. He thought he'd get away with shooting my wife.
He came outside that restaurant with the intention to kill her. He wanted to kill her. He could have killed her. If he hadn't missed, she could have been six feet under the ground by now.
No, no, I wasn't done with this man at all.
I want him to suffer. I wanted him to cry for mercy. I want him to die. I want to cut off his hands and burn them. I want to give his fucking hands to my wife, so, she could burn them. Maybe, we'll burn them together after she's healed.
Ignacio and all his men didn't have hands anymore because they touched what's mine and this guy, this fucking pathetic vermin tried to kill her.
I was not done with him
I walked to the corner and surveyed the torture devices Alessandro had hung on the wall. Alessandro Costello was creative with his torture devices, I gotta hand it to him because I had a sudden urge to use them all and use them on this fucking man who tried to kill my wife.
I picked up the baseball bat from the far right corner. It was covered with barbed wire, deadly spikes were sticking out in all different directions.
I turned back to the man and watched as his eyes became the size of saucers. "No, look, I told you the truth. I'm just their hitman, they give me a picture and a name, and I just follow orders."
