Last Night 4

The stench of dried piss and copper hit Cesare the moment he stepped into the basement. It was thick enough that he briefly considered a mask, then dismissed the idea. 

He wanted his mouth free to speak and sneer without pulling away anything. 

“Is he there?”

He reached the bottom of the stairs, meeting up with his right-hand man Andrea, who stood close to a beaten-up man sitting on a seat. 

Cesare's smile was slow, a cruel, twisted one. 

“Yes, boss.”

“I can see that. You did well, Andrea.”

“Thanks, boss.”

Cesare went to stand before the man. Swollen eyes, busted lips dripping blood. His nose leaking a few drops, some few tears and scars on his face.

He didn’t look more handsome as Cesare pulled black leather gloves from his back pocket and tugged them on. 

“I don’t want to dirty my hands with your filthy blood, Alessandro. I just finished touching my woman. The feeling of her soft skin is still on them and I don’t want you to taint them.”

A low, broken grumblings eased from the beaten-up man before him, but Cesare paid him no mind as he snapped his gloved fingers. 

“Can I get the pliers, Andrea?.”

There was a brief shuffle of tools then the heavy weight of the pliers settled into Cesare’s palm. He held them up between their faces.

“Do you know what this is?”

Alessandro gave no answer. Cesare snickered.

“These are pliers, Alessandro. I’m going to use them to pull out your nails. Then your teeth. One by one.” He crouched so they were eye level. “How does that sound to you?”

Alessandro mumbled something incoherent, head lolling, trying to force his swollen eyes open. His body shook against the restraints.

“What was that?”

Cesare leaned closer, as if genuinely interested. He lifted one of Alessandro’s loosely hanging hands and positioned the pliers around a fingernail. With a sharp, deliberate motion he ripped it free.

Blood welled and ran over both their hands.

Cesare smirked.

“Beautiful. Your blood, I mean. Spilling. I need more.”

He moved to the next finger and tore out another nail. Alessandro howled, thrashing against the chair, trying to yank his hand away.

“Choke him, Andrea.”

Andrea stepped in with a rag and forced it into Alessandro’s mouth, cutting off the sound. Tears and sweat mixed on the man’s face as his head whipped side to side in agony.

Cesare laughed under the wet, tearing sound of the pliers. He kept going until Alessandro’s body finally went slack and he passed out.

Cesare dropped the limp hand and stood. He tossed the pliers accurately onto the table behind him and looked down at the unconscious man.

“Shitbag.”

He stepped back, meeting Andrea’s eyes, then glanced once more at Alessandro.

“When he wakes up, continue from where I stopped. Keep going until he passes out again. Don’t let him rest. If you get tired, call one of the boys to take over the same way. Understood?”

“Yes, boss.” Andrea dipped his head. “What if he dies?”

Cesare’s smirk returned. The man could die, of course. But that would be too easy. This was only the beginning. The real work hadn’t started yet.

“Feed his body to the dogs at the warehouse.”

He would not let Eliana catch even a trace of what happened down here. She had been kept sheltered from this side of his world, even if her curiosity sometimes pushed too close. 

He intended to keep it that way. She was too clean for this. Too delicate, no matter how hard she tried to act strong.

“Yes, boss.”

Cesare looked at Alessandro one last time, then climbed the stairs. He stepped into the hallway and shut the basement door behind him. Marble tiles gleamed under the lights as he walked back toward Eliana’s room.

He pushed her door open. The room was dark except for the soft moonlight filtering through the sheer milk-coloured curtains she had insisted on having in her room and the lamp she had switched on. 

Everything was exactly as he had left it.

He moved forward, the door closing with a click sound. He shouldn’t be here. There were many things he needed to go back to, but he couldn’t leave without seeing her. He didn’t know when last he would touch her like he did this night.

He crossed to the bed, bleached-blonde hair spilled across the pillow like a halo. He watched the slow rise and fall of her chest, the soft sound of her breathing. 

Bending down, he kissed her lips, lingering for a second, then pressed another kiss to her forehead.

“Sleep tight, baby. I’ll be back soon.”

He left, closing the door quietly behind him, and walked the short distance to his own room on the same floor. Inside, he pulled out his phone, scrolled to the right contact, and tapped it.

“Hello—”

“Get the jet ready.”

“Yes, boss.”

Cesare ended the call and exhaled. He was leaving to put things right. But he would return.

Soon.