Blood & Roses

Chapter Eight –Interrogation

Present Day – Adrian's POV

Warehouse. Sector 7.

The interior of the Sector 7 warehouse where the moles were held smelled of rust and mold.

Marco met me at the entrance and nodded to the section where the men were held. Two of them had already been worked over. Swollen eyes, split lips, and blood drying on their chins were a testament to the ordeal they had endured at the hands of my men.

The third was untouched. The more he saw what was done to his colleagues, the more his protective instincts kicked in, and

Motivating him to spill his guts.

"They're not talking," Marco said.

I didn't reply, simply took off my jacket, tossed it aside, and walked to the man in the middle. He looked like he still had some fight left in him.

"Who sent you?"

He grinned at me in defiance, with bloody teeth, and he spat at my feet. I reached into my pocket for the metal knuckles I wore during these sessions and punched him. His head snapped back, turning to the untouched man. I repeated the question,

He did not respond. I punched the man again, and this time, I felt something crack.

“Who sent you? You still don't know???

"I don't know," he gasped. "I swear—I don't know. The instructions came from an anonymous person. We received payments after each successful mission."

" Would you dare lie to me?; you know something."

His answer infuriated me. I grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. "You were in my house! I took you in as my own, but you chose to betray me. I'll ask you one more time — who sent you?"

He looked at me for a second, his eyes strayed to his counterpart who had not been beaten, and then back at me. Something shifted in his eyes, but it was not fear.

"You think we're the only ones ?" he whispered. "We're not!"

“I know, and by the time I'm through with you, you'll spill everything. Turning to my men, I said: Ready the electrical torture rack.

And get my equipment.

All three of them froze in fear.

Adrian …” Marco walked forward

“Forty-five minutes, Marco, and you guys wait outside. I turned back to the three of them and grinned, “Let the chorus begin.”

….

And sing they did; forty-five minutes later, I came out not only covered in their bodily fluid but with enough answers. Most of them confirmed my suspicion.

Marco walked up to me expectantly.“ Did you get anything from them?”

I nodded:“ Salvatore has many of our men in his pockets, but is he not the mastermind? He's just a puppet; someone else is pulling the strings.

"Who is that?" Marco asked.

"They aren't privy to who it was. The mastermind deals with Salvatore directly, then he cascades instructions down the line. They, on the other hand, feed him our plans, routes, and next moves. But I have got a couple of names of more moles to eradicate."

“What else did they say?”

“That's all, man,” The mastermind is basically a ghost. “Only Salvatore knows him. Deal with them," I gestured to the moles. “I don't care how. Just make sure they're never found."

Marco nodded.

I walked out of the warehouse and got into my car. There was another tidbit I didn't share with Marco.

The men said the master's mind was a pally, someone I knew. I thought of everyone in my inner circle. There was Marco, Roscoe, my father and his old allies, and my manager at the club, plus my personal assistant. The rest were guards and staff.

Who else were they referring to? I did not share this information with Marco because the information was making me have doubts. This was not the time to be surrounded by people I couldn't trust.

Could those men I interrogated be lying? Definitely not at that point, relief from pain was the only thing on their minds at that time. The only other close person in my life, apart from my dead mother, had died a long time ago. There was no way it could be . . ., unless they rose from death.

Death could be forged, my inner critic argued. Just like you did with yours.

The thought that the mastermind was someone I knew made me worry.

......

THREE MONTHS EARLIER

Bianca's POV

I woke to sunlight streaming through the curtains.

I stretched and snuggled into the soft silk sheets. I felt rested for the first time in weeks. Then I remembered everything and quickly sat up. I needed to get home to Mother and Matteo. I washed up quickly, and got dressed in another set of clothes laid out for me. A soft blue blouse and jeans that fit almost too well.

Someone rapped at the door, and a low voice, "Breakfast is ready, madam."

"Thanks, Amaya. I'll be down shortly."

Adrian wasn't at the table when I got there. Breakfast was scrambled eggs, toast, fruit, pastries, and coffee.

"Boss says you should go ahead and eat without him," the bodyguard said. "He has urgent business this morning."

I was farmished, so I ate. Who am I to refuse free food? I planned to eat and bounce. When I finished, I turned to the bodyguard.

"Can you drive me home?"

He coughed. "Boss decides that, madam."

“What do you mean your boss decided my movement? Let me speak to him."

He hesitated, then spoke into his earpiece. A moment later, he gestured for me to follow. We walked down a corridor, up a flight of stairs, and stopped at a mahogany door. The guard knocked and waited.

"Come in," Adrian barked.

The guard opened the door and ushered me inside.

His home office was lavish; dark wood, leather chairs, and a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf on one side of the room. Adrian sat behind a massive desk; files were spread open before him. He was on call, his demeanor all business. He gestured for me to sit in the chair across from him.

While he talked, I looked around. The bookshelves drew me; as a book lover, I wanted to see what he read, so I walked toward it. There were original copies, of Classic literature, history, philosophy.

Who knew Mr. Mafia read these kinds of books? I pulled one from the shelf and opened it to discover well-worn pages. Someone had read it more than once.

I glanced back at Adrian, he was still on the call. So I continued reading, the words pulled me in, and I forgot where I was.

I read until the absence of his voice made me look up to see him watching me.