"NO! Sera! Please don't put me in there!"The 3 a.m. wind whipped off the East River, cutting like a knife across the abandoned Brooklyn pier.Marcello, like a dog with a broken spine, clawed at the rough concrete floor.His fingernails bent back and split, leaving ten bloody streaks in his wake.Two massive Cleaners grabbed him like a sack of garbage and dragged him to a large, classic Mafia-style oil drum.It was already half-full of wet cement.The sharp, chemical smell mixed with the cold stench of the river water made Marcello piss himself.A dark, foul-smelling stain spread down his expensive trousers.Four high-definition cameras were already in position, their lenses aimed coldly at him.The setup was far more professional than the one he'd used in our bedroom.I stood in the shadows, just outside the glare of the floodlights, and watched him break."Silas. Begin," I said calmly.Silas, at the control console, hit a key.The dark web link with the skull icon was reactivated.Th
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