His Villain

6

(9:32 pm)

The room, shrouded in an eerie darkness, was dimly illuminated by a solitary lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. Its feeble glow casts long shadows, dancing on the concrete walls that exuded a distinct scent, reminiscent of freshly mixed cement and water. A heavy door, situated in the farthest corner of the room, swung open abruptly, resonating with a resounding thud that echoed through the air. The intruder's footsteps reverberated with a weighty cadence, until they reached their intended destination-a table, adorned with a chilling assortment of implements. In a calculated move, the man lifted a glass of cold water from the table and hurled it onto the face of a motionless figure seated nearby, causing the recipient to jolt and attempt to open his eyes. But the effects of the injected drug rendered his efforts futile, as his consciousness struggled to regain its foothold. Slowly, after what seemed like an eternity, his senses began to reassemble, and the memories of the fateful night flooded back, haunting his thoughts like a never-ending nightmare.

Vincent Romano, a man accustomed to wielding power and influence, couldn't fathom being snatched away from his lofty position and reduced to a mere pawn in a cruel game. His mind raced, trying to unravel the web of betrayal that had ensnared him. The name Celia, that conniving woman, echoed through his mind. How could a mere dancer orchestrate such an audacious act? It seemed inconceivable. Was she the mastermind behind this elaborate scheme? Could she be involved?

His head lifted with a groan, his eyes finally able to scan the gloomy surroundings. However, any attempt to move was swiftly halted by the vice-like grip of iron chains that bound his body mercilessly. A sardonic chuckle escaped the lips of the man who had entered the room moments earlier. "It appears that Mr. Under capo is finding himself rather incapable of extricating his predicament. Rest assured, I will soon release your soul from this world. Just be a good man," he sneered, his voice dripping with malice.

Vincent cursed inwardly, feeling the weight of his helplessness pressing down upon him. The drug coursing through his veins had rendered most of his body immobile, leaving him at the mercy of his captor. With a twisted sense of amusement, Vincent uttered through clenched teeth, "The moment the don finds out about this, you'll all be dead. They will come for you, mark my words. If you've discovered our secrets, then you must be aware of the indelible history this mafia has etched."

Pulling a small plastic zip-lock bag from his trouser pocket, the man placed it before Vincent, causing the color to drain from his face. "That's the chip they implanted in your wrist, isn't it? Let me enlighten you, my dear Vincent, you are not the one in control of this deadly game. It is us," he declared, his cold, brown eyes locking onto Vincent's pale blue orbs, sending a chilling warning about the imminent dangers lurking in their surroundings.

"Now, I shall ask you three questions, and you will answer truthfully. Failure to comply will result in dire consequences for you and your dear companion," the man stated, opening a tablet and typing a message before placing it in Vincent's line of sight. On the screen, Vincent saw Celia, also bound by iron chains, her tear-filled eyes reflecting fear and vulnerability, her mouth silenced by a cloth gag.

Vincent's gaze shifted from the screen to his captor, his mind grappling with the realization that Celia was ensnared in the same web as him. A surge of doubt washed over him, questioning her involvement in this treacherous plot. If she truly orchestrated this ordeal, why subject herself to such torment? Surely, she could have extracted the information from him without becoming a victim herself.

A bitter laugh escaped Vincent's lips as he attempted to play the game in reverse. "She isn't my 'date,' my dear captor. You may dispose of her as you please. She was merely there for a night of entertainment-" Before he could finish his sentence, a forceful blow landed on his face, cutting his words short. "Do not play games with me, you bastard. If you refuse to answer truthfully, I will ensure that you regret the day you were born," the man seethed, his cool demeanor eroding like a dam succumbing to the force of gravity.