Burnt

Marcello's pov

Chapter 8

I crouched in front of him, gripping his jaw tightly, forcing him to meet my gaze. "You thought you could use my resources to destroy innocent lives?" I murmured, my voice dangerously calm. "Now, let's see how you like being on the receiving end."

I pressed the blunt, rusted knife against his trembling flesh, dragging it slowly, deliberately, letting him feel every jagged edge as it tore through his skin. His screams turned to ragged gasps, his body twitching violently against the restraints.

Aaron stood beside me, silent but watchful. He knew better than to interrupt.

The other men, the thieves and traitors, watched in paralyzed terror as I carved retribution into the rapist’s flesh. By the time I was done, he was a whimpering, blood-soaked mess.

"And here's the murderer right?" I asked and walked away from the rapist to the man who caused his wife to lose her pregnancy.

"No—no, no," He trashed violently against the chair.

"How much were the drugs found in his wife's body?" I asked Aaron.

"5 spoons," He replied, and I turned towards the tied man, a mental image of Raya drenched in blood on my car flashing in my mind.

"Get me the exact same amount of drugs mixed in water," I ordered.

The men behind me ran past me to do as I'd asked and after a few minutes of watching and thinking about the possible ways I'd torture him and those who caused what happened to Raya, the men came back with the drug.

"You know what to do Aaron," I said and he nodded, walking forward to the man tied.

The other men nudged forward, forcing his jaws apart, while Aaron poured every single drop of the drug into his mouth, making sure he swallowed every bit of it.

"Now you'll get to know how it feels," I said, resting back against my chair and watching as the tied bastard thrashed violently against the ropes.

The moment the liquid slid down, his body jerked, eyes bulged, veins darkening beneath his pale skin as the drugs invaded his bloodstream.

A guttural, inhuman gurgle tore from his throat. Then came the blood dripping onto his shirt, staining it as he struggled to free himself from the effects of the drugs.

His nostrils flared as blood trickled from them too, running down his chin in a steady flow.

His ears leaked next, dark red seeping out in slow, sticky trails, staining the chair he was bound to. His body convulsed violently, the veins on his neck and arms swelling grotesquely.

His eyes—God, his fucking eyes. They widened in sheer, animalistic terror, the whites turning red as vessels burst one by one, painting them with specks of crimson.

Tears mixed with the blood leaking from the corners, streaking his cheeks.

"How are the kids?" I asked Aaron who simply stood beside me, watching him die.

"They're alone at the moment, no family and friends," He explained.

"Have them put in the orphanage, new names, new last names," I ordered and turned back to watch his chest caved inward as if something inside him was crushing him from within.

His fingers curled so tight against the ropes that his nails cracked, splitting open with raw, wounds. His legs trembled uncontrollably, kicking out in desperate spasms, but there was nowhere to run. No way out.

"I just need you to know that there's no escape for you even in hell because your wife was carrying a baby, or even babies when you fed her that drug and watched her die the exact same way you're dying now," I tilted my head, watching the life drain from his body, watching as his frantic movements slowed, then twitched, then stilled.

His head lolled to the side, blood still dribbling from every possible place, his lips parted in the horror he went through before life slipped from his body.

Aaron stepped back, his face impassive, while the rest of the men stood frozen, some swallowing hard, others shifting uncomfortably at the sight before them.

I wiped the specks of blood from my sleeve, sighing as I stood up from the chair lazily, darting a look at the terrified men who dared to sell my things out to my rivals.

Their eyes were filled with a desperate plea to be let go. But forgiveness wasn't included in any of the conditions in this part of my world.

"Burn them all," I ordered coldly. "Make sure they feel everything before the flames take them." Their eyes bulged with pure terror.

One of them let out a strangled whimper, his entire body shaking so hard that the chair beneath him creaked. Another pissed himself, the smell mixing with the thick stench of blood in the air.

Aaron nodded, already signaling the men to carry out my orders, the tied men thrashed violently, their muffled screams rising as realization crashed over them.

“No—no, please!” one of them sobbed, his voice raw with desperation. “I-I swear I didn't know—”

I tilted my head slightly, amused at the way they always begged when it was too late. I crouched in front of him, gripping his hair and yanking his head back so he was forced to look me in the eyes.

“You knew exactly what you were doing,” I murmured, my voice as cold as the steel pressing into his throat. “You just never thought you'd get caught.”

I released him roughly, watching as he gasped for breath, his chest heaving in erratic sobs. But I was already done here.

Aaron and the others got to work, dousing them in gasoline as their screams turned into panicked, incoherent shrieks. The first match was lit, and as the fire hungrily spread, consuming them whole, the air filled with the sickening sound of burning flesh.

As I stepped out of the blood-soaked warehouse and into the night air, raw and clean.

I picked up my phone to dial a number.