His Stripper, Their Obsession

"Where’s my fucking money?"

Adriano said to the three men kneeling in front of him, all gagged and bound with ropes as they trembled under the muzzles of the guns pointed at their heads by his men.

With a lazy flick of his hand, two soldiers moved forward, yanking the gags from the men's mouths. Whimpering, sobbing, but too terrified to speak, the three captives trembled like leaves in a storm.

The men began to stammer. Desperate, pitiful words tumbling from their cracked lips. "P-please... Signore Greco... j-just a little more time–"

Adriano leaned back, exhaling a long, theatrical sigh. He rolled his eyes at Luca, who smirked behind him.

"More time?" Adriano echoed, voice dripping with anger and disbelief. "I gave you three extra months. Three! And now here you are... empty-handed?!"

He uncrossed his legs and stood, smoothing the front of his shirt. Then without warning, he turned and kicked the first man hard in the gut.

The man crumpled instantly, gagging and writhing on the floor, the ropes cutting into his flesh as he tried uselessly to shield himself.

Adriano followed up with two more kicks, each more vicious than the last, until the man's screams were nothing more than tears and gasps.

Adriano dusted off his hands and turned to Marco, who already had a briefcase in hand. Marco popped it open with a knowing grin, revealing an arsenal of nasty tools gleaming under the dim light.

Adriano’s smile widened. "Let's play a game, shall we?"

He hovered his hand above the tools, fingers dancing dramatically. "Eenie, meenie, miney, mo..."

His hand landed on the spiked brass knuckles. He slid them onto his right hand, flexing his fingers as if savoring the weight of violence.

Then he crouched beside the first man.

The man whimpered, tears streaming down his battered face. “P–p–please… we’ll have your money. I promise.”

Adriano ignored, drew back his arm and punched the man square in the face, the brutal metal spikes tearing flesh from bone with a sickening crack.

He punched the man again.

Again.

And again.

Blood sprayed across the concrete floor until the man’s face was nothing but a bloody, swollen mess. He screamed, sobbed, and finally slumped unconscious, blood oozing from his shattered mouth and nose.

Adriano stood and glanced down at his shirt. A small splatter of blood stained the clean white fabric. He snarled under his breath.

"Fucking great. My favorite shirt."

Luca snickered behind him. "That's what you get for wearing your Sunday best to a murder party, boss."

Adriano shot him a murderous glare, then turned back to Marco. He dropped the bloody brass knuckles back into the case.

"Again," he said. "Eenie, meenie, miney, mo..."

This time, his hand landed on a plier. He whistled lowly in approval.

Approaching the second man, Adriano twirled the pliers like a toy.

The man’s eyes widened in terror. He shuffled backward on his knees, babbling incoherently.

"No, no, please, no! PLEASE! I'll get you the money! I swear! I SWEAR!"

Adriano didn’t even blink. "Hold him."

Two soldiers grabbed the man roughly. A third pried his mouth open, fingers digging into his cheeks.

Adriano sat down, leveled his gaze with the man’s panicked, pleading eyes...and latched the pliers onto a tooth. He tugged, twisted then pulled the tooth free.

The man’s raw screams echoed through the warehouse. Blood and spit splattered across the floor.

Adriano removed a second tooth. Then another. Then a fourth, taking his time while humming a nameless tune under his breath.

When the man finally slumped unconscious, Adriano stood, wiping a drop of blood off his cheek with a handkerchief.

He returned to Marco and played the game once more. “Eenie, meenie, miney, mo.”

His hand landed on a hammer.

He grinned, flipping it from hand to hand like a little boy with a new toy.

"Oh, this is gonna be fun." He said as he walked toward the third man.

But something caught his eye, a movement too subtle for the others to notice.

The third man had been cutting through his bindings. A small knife, slick with sweat, flashed in the dim light.

Adriano’s eyes widened, but before he could react, it was already too late.

The third man sprang up, drove his elbow into a soldier's nose with a sickening crack, snatched his gun, and shot the soldier point-blank in the head.

The warehouse exploded into chaos.

Gunshots echoed off the concrete walls.

Adriano and his men ducked for cover, bullets flying past them like missiles.

The third man quickly made a run for it.

Adriano roared above the noise. "Don't let him get away!"

But he was already gone, swallowed by the night outside.

Adriano stormed out. Marco, Luca, Enzo, and the rest of his men, on his heels.

The night was thick and black, the distant city lights barely reaching the broken asphalt and weed-choked alleys surrounding the warehouse compound.

Adriano barked rapid orders. "Half stay back! Guard the other two! Everyone else, spread out! Find that son of a bitch!"

Guns were drawn, and everyone immediately spread out through the maze of crumbling buildings.

Adriano moved like a ghost, his eyes sharp, ears straining for the slightest sound. He slowly crept forward in the darkness, his heart pounding hard in his chest as he held his gun in front of him with both hands.

Adriano heard the distant crush of gravel, then a whisper of movement came from behind him but before he could turn.

CLICK.

The cold barrel of a gun pressed against the back of Adriano’s skull.