Page 56 of Primo DeLuca

Romigi stepped up and pushed the metal stand between the man’s shackled feet, the heavy base of it built to fit perfectly between the man’s feet. Did Romigi already have an idea of what I had in mind?

The tribute flashed me a quick side eye when he noticed the large metal hooks attached like branches to the thick metal pole, making the equipment resemble a coat rack.

Easy steps took me around the slab and kept every eye in the place, including those of the prisoners tracking my every move.

Once behind the tough guy, I reached down and adjusted the cuffs around his wrist, yanking them down and cuffing them to take some of the length from the chain, leaving the man no choice but to lie back at an odd angle.

Since his feet were shackled and pulled taunt against the metal holding them in place, he remained off balanced, wobbling atop the slab.

His friend stared, deathly still. His eyes were so riveted to the scene unfolding right before his eyes, he didn’t appear to be breathing.

I reached over the smart mouthed one in front of me and sent the scalpel across his lower torso region in one long slash. The material of his shirt gaped open exposing his stomach before he even realized I cut him. He gaped down at himself, along with everyone else.

My goal was to cut away his clothing, not caring if he was cut in the process. Seeing that I accomplished my goal without cutting him was an impressive task that had me wanting to practice until I perfected the move.

However, I pulled at the top half of his shirt and kept cutting until it was easily ripped from his body. The man weaved and wobbled but his attempts to straighten himself out were useless.

I took my time walking back around the slab to the front of the man who still hadn’t lost his defiant edge.

Good.

I fought a smirk. He wanted to play big boy games and come for my life, now he was about to find out the price of coming for someone in a family he must have failed to research.

Romigi shoved the metal stand as close as he could get it to the man until the base touched the concrete slab the man sat atop.

“What the fuck are you about to do, you sick fuck?” he questioned, spitting his words at Romigi before he growled at me baring teeth.

“About to show you what happens when you come for a DeLuca and miss. We are also about to get you…” I aimed my head at his friend without dropping my gaze from his blazing one. “...to get him to tell us who hired you.”

“I’m not a fucking rat. I’ll never talk. No matter what you do,” the man sneered. “And neither will he,” he continued, speaking for the other man who was going to break faster than a rotten egg.

I enjoyed the rough edge of the man’s aggression. Part of me was proud he wasn’t a wimp. Part was glad he would make my job of ripping him apart easy. And part of me was holding in the sick pleasure I would get from turning that defiant attitude into one of sheer horror.

Distracted by Romigi opening his bible again, he didn’t see me make the second quick slash across his stomach, right above his navel.

When the pain registered, his head shot down and his eyes widened at the sight of blood pouring from the four inch gash that opened to a sizable hole when he moved. Instincts made him yank his hands up in an attempt to cover the area, but his sharp movement didn’t do anything but make his blood spill faster.

“Fuck you!” he yelled, sneering at me. “And you,” he said glaring in Romigi’s direction.

“And you two psycho fucks too,” he spat in Umberto and Lenni’s direction. They remained silent and observing, learning tactics I was sure they would use later.

After bending to retrieve a surgical glove from the briefcase on the floor. I snapped it onto my right hand with quick precision like a doctor preparing for surgery.

The man’s legs and arms flailed uselessly against the chains and shackles stopping him from breaking free. He wobbled, teetering on his ass while blood gushed in spurts and spilled down his pale stomach.

I bent forward, reaching my hand towards his stomach and dodged a wad of spit. I glanced up at his tightly pinched, pain drenched face.

“You have one more time to spit, and I’ll put something in your mouth that you will never be able to get out.”

He narrowed his eyes at me without saying a word. I jerked back in the nick of time, my reflexes helping me clear the area he tried to send his knee. I bet his ankles were thanking him for that move.

I didn’t even have to ask, Romigi was behind the man in a flash, placing the closed bible over his mouth and yanking him back so hard his legs kicked up and clinked hard against the chain keeping them shackled to the slab.

The man cursed up a storm and Romigi was careful not to cover his eyes, wanting him to see every action. I placed my gloved fingers against the man’s wound and smiled at his wide gaping eyes.

“What the ‘uk doin’?” He tried to talk around the bible that I knew was ripping skin off his lips.

When I shoved my fingers into the opening of his wound, he screamed, the guttural sound, though muffled by the bible, was still loud enough to rattle the metal on the cells. Romigi removed his bible and allowed the man's loud shouts to liven up the dank dungeon, sensing he was in too much pain to launch another attack.

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