The Jock, The Nerd and The Geek

Epilogue (Part One)

Time: Seven years after the incident with Alexandra.
Location: Italy. A company belonging to the Sicilian Mafia.

The muffled sounds of someone screaming got his attention.

Paride Casio raised his head slowly, a distasteful look in his eyes. His raven hair covered his left eye as looked over the round glasses he had on at the blond make tied on the chair in front of him, his Halo ring glowing.

With the years that had passed by, the softness of his face had morphed into hardness. High cheekbones. A sharp chin. Pronounced jaws.

And the tattoos. The tattoos couldn't be ignored.

Black ink decorated every part of his neck, trailing down to his back that held the mark of the Order while his chest held the one he treasured the most. Some part of the tattoo even showed as the first three buttons of his shirt were off, his black waistcoat hugging his perfect figure.

Paride looked like the Angel of Death.

Slowly, he placed the book with the name 'A Thousand Ways to Torture A Person While Keeping Them Awake.' and waved a hand in the air, causing a man that stood in the corner of his office walk towards the blond one, a poker expression on his face.

Once again, he stared at the tied male. He had blood dripping all over his face which was swollen and bruised, tears running down his eyes with a tape over his mouth that got ripped as soon as the man was close enough, out causing a whimper and cry o leave the man's lips the male before he looked at Paride, blinking rapidly, "I'd talk! Just— Just don't do that!"

Paride made a disgusted face, an eyebrow of his raised as he stared at the filth, "You speak like I have done anything to you."

Which was true. He had not. Not yet anyway. Unlike Alessandro that would have the male sitting on a chair of nails to get him talking because he was a bloody psychopath that most of the times led to the person they needed to question dead, he always took a calmer approach.

He got them beaten up, sitting in front of him while he said nothing and read his favourite book.

Nonetheless, there were times silence spoke louder than words did, and because of that, Paris always got the answers he needed with them still alive.

The blond male panted, his eyes darting around with fear as he said with his lips quivering, "You— You swore I'd leave alive if I told—"

"I told you. I never lie."

He licked his dry lips, wincing at their cracked feeling before saying, his words coming out in a rushed whisper. "I— I don't know much—"

Paride's green eyes lit up. "Let's hope not. For your sake."

He swallowed now, saying, "But Helstrom had all his cash in an overseas account, somewhere in the Caribbeans—"

"Under what name?"

He gave it to him.

Paride nodded his head towards Salvador, the male nodding as he pressed unto the piece in his left ear, repeating the same information to the person on the other side before a subtle frown showed on his face. "Boss?"

Paride looked up at him, the man's brown eyes crinkling. "Someone else emptied it before we did."

At those words, he turned sharply to the now panicking male as he screamed, spittle flying out of his mouth. "I didn't tell anyone! I— I swear!"

"But you told me. Didn't you?"

"Boss, there's something else." Salvador quipped in, getting Paride's attention again then added in Italian, "He says that the person that has the information we need just surrendered themselves right now and refuses to leave until they see you."