Ottavio's p.o.v
Light from the single bulb in the basement lightened up the dark building, the basement smelled of metal and copper. A smell that settles in when blood has been the fixture for more than an hour.
Loud screams filled the basement as Rico continuously administered blows to the man tied to an iron rod in the middle of the room. I stared at the blood dripping off his chest and then to the sick smirk emanating from the man who had made the order. Brown.
“Rico, even an old b***h delivers better punches,” he spat out, sniffing the white nicotine on his palm. The actions displaying before him a perfect entertainment.
Brown pushed himself off the wall and walked forward, every step deliberate. When he reached the captive he jabbed the barrel of his gun low, pressing it against t
