*TRIGGER WARNING*
*Alberto’s POV*
I walked into my basement as I rolled up my sleeves. The room smelled—reeked of blood, sweat, and piss. As it should, of course.
My men surrounded Santoro’s already bleeding figure as he hung from the ceiling by his arms.
“I hope he’s awake already,” Francisco hissed from behind me. “Because I’m itching to have some fun.”
“Me too, Fratello. Me too.” I said as my men opened a path for Francisco and me.
As soon as Santoro heard our footsteps, he lifted his head and smiled at us cockily. I really hate the fūcker. Him and his son.
“It took you long enough,” he stated calmly before spitting out blood to the side.
“You’d think he wouldn’t be so cocky when he’s going to die,” Francisco hissed as he ripped open his shirt.
Unlike me, Francisco tend
