Reckless Games (Reckless Mafia #1)

Chapter 20

Lorenzo

A sense of unease washed over me the moment I stepped foot into my mansion, and it felt like deja vu. The air felt heavy and suffocating. My steps quickened, and I pushed open the door to find chaos. I froze, my breath catching in my throat as I took in the scene before me. The house was a wreck—the living room was thrashed, furniture overturned, vases shattered, and blood splattered across the floor, the bodies of my men lying motionless.

"What the—" I could not even form a sentence, my voice trailing off into a strangled gasp. Panic surged through me as I started yelling for Angela with my heart pounding in my chest, ready to burst out of the ribcage any second. "Angela! Angela, where are you?" I screamed, my voice echoing through the lifeless mansion.

Giovanni and the rest of my men, who had returned from the mission with me, sprang into action, spreading out to search for her. The feeling of dread gnawed at my insides, twisting my gut into knots. I tore through the rooms, desperation fueling my every step.

"Angela!" I bellowed again, but there was no response. Every second that passed only intensified my fear. As I rounded the corner, I saw one of my guards, barely alive, his breathing shallow and labored. I rushed to his side, my voice shaking with urgency. "Where is Angela!?"

"They took her. There were too many of them," he gasped, his words hitting me like a punch to the gut. It felt like I choked on air, the reality of his words sinking in. I pushed the guard back onto the ground, my mind reeling. Angela was gone. They had taken her. My chest tightened, and it was hard to breathe. The thought of losing her, of her being in danger consumed me.

"Get the CCTV footage!" I roared, my voice cracking with fear and anger.

Giovanni hurried to comply, his expression mirroring my own dread. Every fiber of my being was focused on finding Angela. The fear of losing her was unlike anything I had ever felt. It was a raw, gnawing terror that clawed at my skin, threatening to tear me apart from within.

Giovanni returned with the footage played on his phone, and I watched in horror as my worst fears were confirmed. Masked men had stormed the gate, swiftly and ruthlessly eliminating the guards before they rushed into the mansion, leaving a trail of blood behind them. My heart pounded as I watched my men lay lifeless, some fallen while bravely attempting to protect Angela in the living room.

In the midst of it all, Angela stood her ground defiantly. She cried, screamed, and fought back with every ounce of strength she had. One of the intruders had her by the hands and hair, dragging her across the floor. She clawed and kicked, using the moves I had painstakingly taught her. For a fleeting moment, she managed to kick him off, a brief spark of hope igniting within me. But it was quickly extinguished as two more attackers closed in, grabbing her with brutal force.

Helplessness washed over me as I watched her struggle, her eyes wide with fear, her voice hoarse from screaming. She twisted and turned, desperately trying to break free, her efforts growing more frantic as the seconds ticked by. My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms as I felt her terror as my own. And then, just as her scream reached a crescendo, the video went blank.

The screen turned to static, and the room plunged into a silence that was more deafening than any noise. My breath came in ragged gasps, and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead. Angela was gone.

Rage and helplessness surged through me, a volatile mix that left me trembling. I could not lose her. I would not lose her. The thought of Angela in their hands, scared and hurt, was unbearable. My heart raced, and my mind spun with a thousand thoughts, each one more terrifying than the last. I clenched my fists, the resolve hardening within me. They would pay for this. I would tear apart the world if I had to, but I would find her.

? “Capo, I also found this,” Giovanni said, handing me a joker card. The grotesque smile of the joker seemed to mock me. I flipped the card over to reveal the message scrawled on the back:

Wrong place, right time.

The bastard’s words finally clicked into place. My jaw clenched as I crushed the card in my hand, feeling an unfamiliar fury course through me. Without hesitation, I took out my phone and sent a message to the Obsidian Order group.

Me : Nikolai took Angela. I want you all here in the next 24 hours. It’s time for war.

Leonardo : What the fuck! I’m leaving immediately.

Declan : On it.

Emir : On my way. Hang in there; we will find her.

Nikolai had no idea what he had unleashed. He had crossed a line that should never have been crossed. He had knowingly signed his own death certificate. The devil had been released, and now I would not rest until I dragged Nikolai back to hell with me.

***

The air in the torture room was thick with tension, and the scent of blood hung heavily. I stood silently, watching as Declan, Emir, and Leonardo worked over the man I captured earlier from the club. He was strapped to a metal chair, his face already bruised and swollen from the initial beating.

Declan started first, delivering a series of blows. The man groaned, his head swaying with the relentless impact. Emir followed, using a knife to carve shallow cuts along the man’s arms and legs, each slice a promise of deeper pain to come. Emir had already ripped off all his nails. But it was still not enough to calm the beast in me. It wanted more. It wanted to unleash hell on this world for what they had done to Angela. I watched silently, my eyes cold and calculating. Finally, I held up a hand, signaling for them to stop. I approached the man, my footsteps echoing in the silence of the room.

“Enough,” I said quietly.

The man looked up, his eyes filled with defiance despite the pain.

“You think this will make me talk?” he spat. “I’m already dead. There’s nothing you can do to me that will change that.”

My lips curled into a sinister smile. “Oh, I think you underestimate my creativity.”

I picked up a scalpel from the table and ran the blade lightly across the man’s cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. “You see, there’s a difference between dying and suffering. I can make you feel things you never thought were possible.”

With a swift, brutal motion, I drove the blade into the man’s stomach, twisting it slowly. He screamed, his body convulsing in the chair. I did not stop there. I methodically cut deeper, creating a web of agony across his torso. His screams grew louder, his willpower beginning to crack under the relentless assault.

“Where is Angela?” I demanded with a low growl.

He shook his head, gasping for breath. “Go to hell,” he managed to choke out.

My eyes narrowed. I pressed the blade to his throat, just enough to draw blood. “I’m already there. And this time, I’m taking you with me.”

I continued the torture, each cut more vicious than the last. His resistance crumbled under the onslaught, his cries of pain echoing in the room. His once defiant eyes were now wide with terror and agony, a sight that fueled my determination. Next, I signaled my men to bring me the acid container. As they handed it to me, a cruel smile played on my lips.

I slowly unscrewed the cap, the acrid scent of the acid filling the room. The man’s eyes widened further, his breathing becoming more erratic as he realized what was coming. Without hesitation, I tilted the container and let the liquid spill onto his open wounds. The effect was immediate and brutal. The acid sizzled as it made contact with his flesh, the chemical reaction causing smoke to rise from his skin. His screams reached a new pitch, a guttural, primal sound that reverberated through the room. He thrashed against his restraints, the pain so intense that his body convulsed involuntarily. The raw, agonized sound of his cries was like music to my ears, a symphony of suffering that gave me a dark satisfaction.

His skin bubbled and blistered, the acid eating away at the exposed tissue. He was now reduced to a writhing, screaming heap of agony. His voice grew hoarse, the strength behind his screams fading as the pain overwhelmed him. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the blood and sweat that covered his skin.

I watched with cold, unfeeling eyes, my heart hardened to his suffering. His pain was my victory.

Finally, unable to withstand the agony any longer, he broke. “They took her... to the old Raven’s Nest warehouse... on the outskirts,” he gasped, his voice barely audible, broken by the relentless torment. My expression remained cold as I stepped back, my hands steady. “Thank you for your cooperation,” I said, my voice devoid of any emotion.

Without another word, I pulled out my gun and aimed it at his heart. His eyes met mine one last time, filled with a mix of relief and resignation. “See you in hell,” I said, my voice steady as I pulled the trigger. The man’s body slumped in the chair, lifeless. I turned to Leonardo, my eyes burning with a fierce determination. “Let’s finish this.”

***