69

Scar spat out the mixture of blood and spittle. He was wearing tattered pants, his hands were chained up above his head. Blood and sweat trickled down his marks-ridden body. "So what do you stand to gain in all of this?" he drawled out.

"Who said anything about gaining anything?" Luca asked, with a wicked smirk on his face. He was a soldier in the Carianno family, a big burly man towering high with rippled muscles and toned abs.

Scar’s chest heaved. "Why don’t you just kill me then? What are you waiting for?"

Luca bent over and whispered in his ear, "Ghost. That’s the big fish we are hoping to catch."

He threw his head backward and laughed, his lithe frame shaking. "I did always think you were smart, Luca. It looks like you substituted your brain for brawn..."

Luca punched him in the cheek, sending his face flying in the other direction.

He spurted out more blood and let out a pained grunt.

"Say something smart again, and I’ll make sure you never use your mouth again," Luca ground out