(VALENTINO'S POV)
I crack my neck and glance at Michele, who's still holding the case open.
The three idiots kneeling in front of me look like they're about to piss themselves. Sweat glistens on their foreheads, dripping down their temples and soaking the collars of their shirts. Their faces twitch with every little sound—a breath, a shuffle, the metallic click of a soldier adjusting his gun.
I take a step closer, my shoes echoing against the concrete floor.
"You know," I start, my tone light, almost playful. "I think we've all been way too serious tonight." I look between the three of them, flashing an easy smile. "Business can get so fucking boring, don't you think?"
They don't answer. Just wide eyes and shaky breaths.
"So," I continue, rubbing my chin like I'm mulling over something profound, "I figured we could spice it up a little. Have some fun before we wrap things up."
One of them blinks at me, trembling. "F–fun?"
I grin. "Yeah. That's why I suggested a game."
I find their confusion is almost cute as they exchange glances with each other m.
"Here's how it works," I say, strolling back toward the open briefcase. "I'm gonna pick one of you, and then—" I glance at the gleaming tools, tapping my finger along the edges, "—I'll chant a little rhyme. Something we all know from when we were kids. But with my own twist."
They all remain silent.
"When I land on a tool," I finish, turning back to them with a smile that doesn't reach my eyes, "that's what I'll use on you. Simple, right?"
The look on their faces twist from confusion to horror. They stare at me like I'm the devil himself.
I sigh, rubbing my temple. "Jesus, relax. It's just a game."
Then my gaze lands on the one in the middle, the loud one who wouldn't shut up earlier when he was trying to explain his 'misunderstanding.' I point at him.
"You first."
His face drains of all color. "P–please, Signor Vipera—"
But I'm already humming to myself as I hover my hand over the case.
"Eeny, meeny, miney, moe…" I draw it out, letting the tension stretch. "…touch a viper by its tail."
My finger stops on the brass knuckles.
I smile. "Well. Guess it's your lucky day."
The brass knuckles glint in the light as I slide them onto my fingers, the metal cold against my skin. I flex my hand once, twice, then roll my shoulders and start walking toward him.
The closer I get, the more he trembles. "P-please, Mr. Vipera, please, I swear it was—"
My fist connects with his jaw so hard I feel the crack of his bone under the metal. He flies backward, blood and saliva splattering across the floor as he hits the ground with a thud that echoes off the walls.
For a second, everything goes still.
Then I crouch beside him, grip his shirt, and hit him again.
Again.
And again.
Each blow crunches into him, the sound thick and wet. I lose count somewhere between his nose breaking and his cheek collapsing under the metal.
By the time I stop, my breathing's heavy, my hand's sticky with his blood, and his face looks like a pile of raw meat.
I stand, roll my neck, and exhale slowly. "Jesus Christ," I mutter, shaking off my hand like I'm flinging water off it.
I smirk a little, sliding the brass knuckles off and dropping them back into the briefcase.
Then I look at the other two. They're pale as ghosts, staring at their friend's barely-breathing body like it's a mirror showing them what's next. I tilt my head, thinking for a second, then point to the one on the right.
"You," I say, walking toward him.
His eyes widen. "No! Please! Please don't do this, I beg you!"
I ignore him, turn to Michele's open briefcase and chant again, just like before. "Eeny, meeny, miney, moe. Touch a viper by its tail."
My finger lands on the pliers. A wicked grin slowly spreads across my face.
The guy's breathing picks up, shallow and fast. His entire body starts to shake. He starts babbling. "Please, Mr. Vipera, don't do this, please. I'll do anything you tell me to! Whatever you tell me! Just—just—"
I sigh, disappointed. "You see, this is why I can't stand cowards."
I point to my soldiers. "You, you, and you. Grab him."
Three of them move at once. Two grab him by the shoulders, the third forces his jaw wide open. His screams turn muffled and desperate as he thrashes in their grip.
I drag my chair in front of him and sit. From here, I can see the whites of his eyes. The way his pupils shake like trapped flies.
When I lean in close, I'm hit by a wave of rot that makes me recoil instantly.
"Jesus Christ," I mutter, pinching my nose with two fingers. "You ever heard of a toothbrush and some paste? Shit, scratch that—you need a goddamn dentist, my friend."
A few soldiers snort behind me. Even Leo cracks a grin.
I sigh dramatically, then lean in again and latch the pliers around one of his teeth. I look him dead in the eye and say softly, "This is gonna hurt a bit."
Then I pull.
The scream that rips out of him doesn't sound human. It's sharp, animalistic, and bloodcurdling. His whole body jerks as I twist and yank until the tooth pops out, spraying blood across my hand, his chin, and my goddamn white suit.
I step back fast, hissing. "Motherfucker."
Blood drips down my sleeve. I pull out my handkerchief and start dabbing at the mess but it only smears deeper into the fabric. I glare down at it, irritated.
"Look what you did! You ruined my fucking suit!"
I glance at my watch. "And I've got a date right after this."
Leo raises a brow. "A date? With who?"
I shoot him a glare. "None of your fucking business."
He grins. "Krystal, huh?"
I roll my eyes. "Michele, close the case. We're done here."
He snaps it shut then I turn to the men—well, what's left of them—and say, "Just because I hurt you doesn't mean I'm not taking the money."
I point toward Alessandra, who's been quietly watching, unbothered with her phone in hand. "Sandra, drain all their accounts of every last cent. Leave them broke enough to beg for pocket change."
She nods once. "On it."
I start walking toward the exit, straightening my jacket as I go. Bruno calls after me, "Yo, boss, what do you want us to do with these guys?"
I stop mid-step, think about it, then shrug without turning around. "Rough them up a bit more."
"And afterward?" Leo asks.
I smirk to myself, hand already on the door. "I don't know? Leave them in the middle of some random street, I guess."
I glance over my shoulder with a grin. "I'm sure they'll find their way."
The metal door creaks open, spilling the last of the warehouse light onto the pavement outside.
My Porsche's parked just a few feet away. I click the key fob and the headlights blink awake. I slide inside, the smell of leather and my cologne hitting me as the engine roars to life.
The clock on the dash reads 8:46. I curse under my breath.
"Shit. I'm gonna be late."