Married to the Mafia

Chapter 15

Warning: This chapter contains graphic details of torture that some readers may be uncomfortable with. If you do not feel comfortable reading this chapter, please skip to the end of the chapter where I will include important details in an author's note.

Lucifer's POV

Walking past the cells, I know there's only one person who can make me feel better. I approach the cell and glance at the guard standing in front of it. He only looks at me for a second before he turns and unlocks the door, pushing it open and standing to the side so I could step in.

I look at the man standing before me. Standing may be a bad word to describe what he is doing. His wrists are cuffed above him, each one pulled up and to the side, secured in a heavy-duty metal cuff with a chain attached to the ceiling. His arms are pulled enough that the tension makes it so he is unable to bend his arms. His cuffs pull him up so that he is forced to stand on the balls of his feet. Based on the dried blood that has trickled down his arms from his wrists, I can assume he lets his wrists carry his full body weight fairly often, as he is now, dangling from his wrists. A chain that is attached to the floor and cuffed around his ankles prevents him from lifting his feet at all.

The man is in his forties wearing only a pair of boxers. His once slick black hair is now overgrown with noticeable grey hairs, similar to his well-overgrown mustache and beard combo. His once large muscles have started to wither away after months of unuse, leaving his whole body looking weak and malnourished. Scars litter his exposed flesh, some years old but most relatively fresh and new. I stare at him, waiting for him to acknowledge my presence. When he doesn't, I speak up.

"Hello, Greg." He glances up at me with tired eyes.

"Ah, Lucifer. It's been a while old friend. I thought maybe you had finally forgotten about me."

"I could never forget about you, pal." I growl.

"Sounds like you're having a rough day."

"You could say I re-lived some bad memories."

"Let me guess, it had something to do with a sexy young lady?" He asks, and the fucker has the nerve to let a smirk crawl across his ugly face.

Rage swells over me as I reach into my pocket and pull a small pocket knife out. I walk behind him and gently glide the blade of the knife over the skin on his back. I glide it over his shoulder blades, the small of his back, even the back of his neck.

"I'm not afraid of a pathetic pocketknife," He says, calmly.

I lay the blade on its side, resting it against his shoulder blade. I tilt it ever so slightly and apply just enough pressure to accomplish my goal. I slowly glide the blade down his shoulder blade, peeling off a thin layer of skin as I do. He hisses at the pain but manages to contain his noises of discomfort to hisses and groans. I keep peeling skin as I think back to that day six months ago.

______

Lucy walks into the living room. I look up from the bloody corpse on the ground and my eyes settle on her face. I watch as she takes a deep breath looking at the body before lifting her grey eyes to meet mine.

"What did he tell you?" She asks. I just look at her. I should be enraged, I should be devastated, I should be showing more emotion. How had I managed to suppress all emotion in the time it took her to come home. For fucks sake I killed Louis just a few hours ago.

"Why? Why did you do it?" I ask, looking her in the eye. She sighs and shakes her head.

"What do you want me to say Lucifer? You want me to tell you you're bad in bed and I needed another man to satisfy me? I'll tell you whatever you want to hear, but it's not true."