The basement
The room smelled of fresh blood. A single bulb hung overhead, swinging faintly whenever the ventilation kicked on, throwing long shadows across the tied figure of a man.
Manuel, his face already swollen and split in three places, had one eye swelling shut.
Salvatore stood in front of him, hands in his pockets, his voice calm in a way that made the whole room feel colder. Many guards stood by around them, ready.
"I gave you a chance," he said, "or you will end up like your friends. I will make sure they die slowly and painfully."
Manuel lifted his head weakly, blood dripping from his split lip onto the front of his shirt. "I'm sorry, boss. I... I really don't kn—"
Joe's fist connected with his face again before he could finish, snapping his head sideways, a fresh line of blood spraying across the concrete floor.
Manuel coughed violently, choking on the blood pooling in his mouth. "Please..."
