VINCENZO VOLKOV
Who's your boss? Are you going to tell me, or should I find out myself?" I asked, holding the red-hot knife in my hand.
The man shook his head, tears streaming down his face as he screamed. The knife burned his hand, blood splattering onto my face. I didn’t care.
I grabbed his face and pulled him closer. With one quick slice, I cut off his ear. I made sure he saw it with his one good eye.
"Go to hell!" he spat through clenched teeth, sweat mixing with the blood on his body.
I crouched in front of him, gripping his chin hard. "Who sent you to my warehouse?" My voice was calm, but the threat was clear.
His swollen lips trembled, but he stayed silent. I pressed the tip of my knife into his leg, just enough to make him scream.
"Talk," I growled. "Was this your idea, or
