(VALENTINO'S POV)
"Where's my fucking money?"
The words come out quiet, almost bored.
I'm met with nothing but complete silence. I sigh and repeat a little louder this time. "I said—where's my fucking money?!"
My voice echoes around the warehouse, bouncing off cracked walls and rusted beams until all that's left is the sound of three terrified idiots breathing hard through their noses.
I sit back in my chair, smoothing my white suit, one leg crossed over the other—twisting the rings on my fingers like it's a nervous habit, though I'm anything but nervous.
In front of me, three men kneel on the cold concrete floor with their hands tied and their legs bound. My soldiers stand behind them with rifles pressed to the backs of their skulls. I let the silence stretch, because silence tells you more than yelling ever could. I watch them. Watch the way they try not to breathe too loud. The little tremor in their shoulders. The sweat gathered at their temples.
Men like this don't need shouting; their fear does all the talking.
The one in the middle lifts his head, tears already gathering in his eyes. He's trembling so hard his teeth chatter.
"P–please, Mr. Vipera, s–sir, it's not what you think, I swear! We… we were going to pay you, it's just—"
The guy on his right cuts in, voice cracking. "There's been a misunderstanding, boss."
"Misunderstanding?" I repeat, looking at him with utter disbelief.
I let out a huff, then another, then it just breaks out of me completely and I burst into laughter. I slap my palm against my thigh, shaking my head. "Hey Leo, you hearing this guy right now?"
Leonardo, standing to my left with his hands in his pockets, grins. "Crystal clear, boss."
I turn my gaze back to the trembling bastards, letting the laughter die down. "Wow," I say, wiping an imaginary tear from my eye. "You're so funny, you know that?"
None of them say a word. They just stare, waiting for me to decide if they get to see another sunrise.
I lean forward a bit, elbows resting on my knees. My tone drops low, steady, and cold. "You three came to me. You begged for a deal. You borrowed five hundred grand to fund a smuggling run, promised me forty percent once you sold the stolen art and jewelry worth millions of dollars to the buyers you said you had lined up in France and Spain. Remember that?"
Their eyes dart between me and the floor. Then the guy in the middle nods quickly, opening his mouth like he's about to talk, but I lift a hand and he shuts right up.
"Then," I continue, "when the deadline hit, you said the goods didn't move. I was nice enough—stupid enough—to give you another two months out of the goodness of my heart. But what do I find out?" I lean back, smiling faintly. "You already sold everything and made a whole lotta money. And instead of paying me my cut, you tried to skip town."
I spread my hands. "So tell me, geniuses… what exactly am I misunderstanding?"
Silence.
Just the sound of their shaky breaths and the click of Alessandra's heels as she shifts her weight beside Leo.
I shrug, muttering under my breath."That's what I thought."
I nod toward Alessandra. "If it weren't for my sweetheart over there tracking your sorry asses last minute, you would've actually gotten away with it." I stand, straightening my jacket. "And no one, and I mean—no one—fucks over the King of Sin City."
Their eyes follow me as I start circling them slowly, each step echoing throughout the abandoned warehouse. I can practically feel their fear leaking out of them. Their shoulders are tight, their breathing uneven. One flinches when my shoe scuffs against the floor. The other looks like he's two seconds from pissing himself.
I stop behind them, folding my hands behind my back. "See, I don't even give a fuck about the money. Right now, I've got more than I know what to do with, and I'm sure you've heard about how we cleaned out Blackstone Capital. So what pisses me off is the principle." My tone hardens. "You tried to fuck with my name. My reputation. And that—I can't let slide."
I step around to face them again, my expression flat. "So now I have to hurt you. I have to make an example out of you. Because if I don't, people start talking. And if they start talking, people start thinking. Thinking that Valentino Vipera's someone they can con and walk away from without a scratch."
The guy in the middle starts crying, tears streaming down his face.
"Please…" he sobs, "...please, Mr. Vipera, I swear we'll give you everything we made, every cent! Just—just let us go, please!"
I stop in front of him and tilt my head slightly. He looks up at me like a dog begging for scraps. I shove my hands in my pockets, studying him for a second. Then I smile.
"Yeah… no."
I swing my leg back and kick him across the face. The sound of my shoe slamming into his jaw echoed like a gunshot. He hits the ground hard, groaning.
Bruno laughs from where he's standing. "Holy shit, boss. I felt that one from here."
I keep going. Another kick, this time to his ribs. Then another to his gut. He curls in on himself, screaming and coughing, blood starting to streak his chin. I kick him one last time in the face, then straighten up, fixing my cufflinks and running a hand through my hair.
I glance down at him, writhing in pain. "You done?"
He groans weakly in response.
I flick my fingers toward two of the soldiers. "Get him up."
They grab him by the arms and haul him upright, holding him in place. He can barely stand, legs shaking.
I nod at Michele, who steps forward carrying a big black briefcase. He pops it open in front of me. Inside is a neat display of tools—pliers, clamps, scalpels, a hammer, even a small blowtorch.
I smirk. "Show them."
Michele lifts the case, walking slowly past the three of them, tilting it just enough for each to get a good look.
I watch the color drain from their faces. One starts gagging. The other just stares, frozen, his eyes wide.
That right there? That's the look I live for.
I grin, letting the silence stretch until it's heavy and unbearable. Then softly, I speak to them almost as if I'm a mother asking if their kid wants more dessert.
"Let's play a game, shall we?"