Francesca ✔︎

••002

•Vincenzo•

"Where the fuck is my money, putano?" I slam a large hammer on the back of Vladimir's hand.

"I don't fucking have it, ublyudok." Vladimir's thick Russian accent growls out.

"Bullshit!"

I grab a freshly sharped blade that was blow torched and put in against his finger.

He lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

Chuckles leave my lip as he stares at me with venom.

"Tell me where my fucking money is, stronzo." I smirk, staring into his glassy brown eyes.

Blood was oozing out of his wounds.

A gash across his left cheek was dripping down his white shirt, staining the cotton fabric.

"No." Vlad replies.

I was hoping he'd say that.

I apply pressure to the knife on his finger, slicing it right off.

The nub left of his fingers were gushing red liquid.

"Ublyudok!" Tears steam down his face, washing the blood down his neck.

I sigh muttering words in Italian.

The fucker is not going to talk.

My hand reaches for my phone, I dial my second in command.

"Yes, Don?" Leo's voice answers.

"Come get rid of Vladimir Ragnoff's dead corpse."

I end the call, not waiting for an answer.

"What do you mean get rid of? I'm not dead yet, fuck face."

"Yet." I confirm.

I walk over to the basement's fireplace.

The orange hues of flames and the crackle of wood burning made it call to me.

My fist clenched on a metal brander usually used for cows and horses.

Except this one is for people.

I stick the brander in the magnificent flames, heating up the words 'Valentino.'

My lips pull up into a smirk. "This might hurt a bit...."

Before he can reply I smack the brander on his right cheek.

Vladimir's scream fill up the quite basement.

Tears roll down his face, creating steam when they hit the scolding hot metal.

I remove the brand and let out a deep taunting chuckle.

His cheek was red. His raw flesh spelled out my family's name.