Ace’s POV
A scream pierces through the air, sharp and painful. Any normal person would cringe at the sound or be filled with such fear it would make their knees wobble like a newborn fawn. But I’m not a normal person. Never claimed to be.
I’m the f*****g devil.
I squat in front of the man chained to the roof of the basement in the Gambino mansion. His trembling arms are attached to the hook on the low ceiling by a thick metal clasp. He hangs there helplessly, leaving the rest of his body exposed to me to do with as I please. My gaze rakes over the sweat and blood clinging to his pale skin. Bruises and gashes paint his body like the finest piece of artwork, thanks to my fists.
Electricity thrums through my veins at the sight of this kid, not much older than nineteen if I had to guess
