*The whole book is NOT written in this POV*
Vantablack is one of the darkest colors known to man. It soaked up light, so much so that you wouldn't see it reflect light off of it. The color is so dark the human eyes can't process it. If someone were to wear something in the color Vantablack they would appear to be floating.
That was the thing. People think Satan and the Angel of Death are the same person, when really, they're far from the same. Satan's damned to hell, using his demons to do his dirty work around the world. While the Angel of Death wonders the world, doing his own dirty work with his demons controlling him inside his head. He wonders around with a smile that send shivers down one's spine, and a voice so beautiful yet so dangerous. His wings are thought to be Vantablack, so dark they can't be seen.
The angel of death doesn't walk gracefully, he's flying, we just can't see it. Although this is all just a myth, believed by very few people, like the handless man strapped to a chair sitting in front of who he believed was the angel of death himself.
Blood pour out of his mouth, if his head wasn't dropped down, he'd drown in his own blood, instead, his old jeans were pooling with it.
The man spoke but it wasn't heard by his victim. In fact he mostly heard muffled voices and ringing. He was constantly dizzy, his stomach growled in hunger but it went ignored by his captor.
He wished he could explain his reasoning for being put through this torture, but the angel of death needs no reason to take a life.
The man wheezed after coughing up more blood, he could barely see the polished black shoes of this man. He could hardly hear the deep, muffled voice say something before everything went black.
"Pulisci." He spoke simply to the two men standing in the corners of the room. They were young men, barely twenty one and still going to clubs for fun. They were new to this life, but they treated like they've been here for years, witnessing some of the most gruesome scenes, not to take part, but to clean up afterwards. This tactic was used to root fear into them, and respect. If they ever betrayed the family, this times one hundred would be done to them.
( Clean this up. )
So they knew better.
With his underboss standing to his right, he exited the room that smelt of rotting flesh, a smell he's grown more than accustomed to.
"I miei anelli." He spoke, holding his hand out. A thick black velvet bag was placed into the palm of his hand. The sound of two million dollars worth of rings jingled quietly.
( My rings. )
Without looking, just feeling, he placed the six rings on his hands, four on the right, two on the left. His right ring finger held a thick silver ring, small square diamonds wrapped around the ring, the middle diamond was made to look like a skull, it'd been the first ring he got for himself at thirteen. His right middle finger held two thin rings, one gold, one silver. Each meaning something different. His pinky finger held a thick ring with a black diamond on it, an average American would easily mistaken it for a Super Bowl ring.
His left hand held two simple rings, a black gold ring on his ring finger, it didn't mean marriage. It was almost like...a promise ring. And the second was another black gold ring with two extremely thin silver bands wrapped around it. The bands were so thin that if they were taken off the ring and used as a weapon, they could easily slit someone's throat, making it feel like a paper cut, later leading to their death.
"Chiedi a Simone di iniziare a cena, questo incontro al club non dovrebbe richiedere troppo tempo." He told his right hand as they made their way into an elevator. The elevator looked out of place, it was clean, it smelled good and looked as if it was finished just days before. While the current area of the building it was in was filled with the stench of blood and death, a smell painful to the nose if it wasn't used to it. The area itself looked old and bloodied, cracked concrete all over the old building and mold growing in some places.
( Have Simone get started on dinner, this meting at the club shouldn't take too long. )
He reminded himself to get it redone down here, it may have been somewhere where people were tortured to death, but he wasn't a bum himself and despite the circumstances he took pride in his appearances. All of them.
"Su di essa."
( On it. )
He took a quick shower in the bathroom connected to his office in the building. The ride to the night club took roughly forty-five minutes. It was a business doing well that he rarely visited. He ran a hand through his damp hair as he and his right hand entered the club through a back VIP door. The first door led them into a dark quiet hallway, and then to a thick soundproof door, once opened loud booming music poured through their ears.
While he looked emotionless, he was disgusted with place, he didn't like clubs. They were crowded, smelled like sweat and cheap perfumes, and loud. He only came here for business a couple times a year when he was in America, other than that, the place didn't exist to him.
They took a brief walk through the crowed club before reaching the private VIP section. Behind the thick blue velvet curtains he and his right were offered expensive whiskey and vodka, in which they declined, settling for room temperature bottles of water.
"Mr.Lombardi, what a pleasure." The head manager of the club spoke as he entered the private room. Lombardi nodded his head, acknowledging the man, which was the most he was going to do.
"Have a seat Tucker." His second in command spoke.
"Mr.Russo, always a pleasure." Tucker commented. The men nearly rolled their eyes at the man trying to kiss their asses.
"I wasn't aware you were coming tonight." Tucker laughed nervously.
"And why should I let you know my whereabouts?" Lombardi questioned. That easily, Tucker had given away he was hiding something he didn't want his boss to see. And Tucker was a stupid man to think his boss didn't realize it.
"No reason. My apologies. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked.
"I've noticed something that the police would find suspicious." Lombardi began,
"And this concerns me for this state Tucker. As you know very well Detective Whitley will be in my business and looking for a reason to put me away." He finished, interrupting the question Tucker was about to ask.
"Sir, I can assure that I've also noticed..." Tucker stopped mid lie, he had no idea what it could've been Lombardi noticed. Although he had an idea, he wasn't going to try and eat himself out even more.
"You've noticed what exactly?" The man spoke, his italian accent thick and dripping with disgust. Lombardi hated this man, and if it weren't for the fact that he did a fairly good job at managing one of his most successful clubs, he would've killed him years ago.
"N-Nothing really, I was just trying to agree...but I wasn't sure. How about I show you the reports from the past few months you've missed." Tucker nodded his trying to change the subject as he put a thick folder on the table.
Lombardi nodded his head, standing up from his seat, "I want to have a look around." He said simply, grabbing the folder and walking out the private room. The first thing he saw when he opened the folder was the employee list, which included about sixty girls and roughly fifteen males.
Tucker frantically followed behind him, looking around the club in hopes he wouldn't get caught.
"Tucker, explain something to me." Lombardi spoke a she and Russo looked at the employee chart for people working tonight.
"When I came in I counted twenty three girls working, and six men. But on this roster, I see only nineteen girls are working tonight." He stopped walking and turned towards the short man. At six foot five inches, Lombardi easily towered over most people, Russo stood at an inch taller than him. And Tucker, he was short for a man, only five eight with an ego twice his height and only as smart as half his brain.
Before Tucker could come up with an excuse, two security guards rushed pass the trio to another private room. Lombardi raised his eyebrow at the scene and followed it despite Tucker trying to convince him not to. Russo shoves Tucker away and followed his boss.
"What is going on?" Lombardi's voice boomed in the small room where a girl stood in a thigh high tight black dress, a man with his shirt half unbuttoned stood with a gun to her and two security guards had their guns pointed at the man.
"This man was trying to get me to have sex with him and when I said no he tried to rape me! Then he pulled a gun out." The girl explained frantically. She had her long curly blonde hair in a ponytail, her big brown eyes and facial expressions showed that she was scared and angry at the same time.
Disgusted, Lombardi pulled out his own gun before the man could say anything and shot him in the knee caps. The girl jumped and screamed, looking wide eyed at the strange man.
"Fuck!" The man screamed out in pain as he dropped down onto his side.
"Get him out of here." Lombardi snapped at the two security who looked completely clueless. He was pissed that these people who seemed like they didn't know what to do. He pointed harshly at the girl and told her to leave the room, and he looked at Tucker, giving him a look that said, "My office. Now." Except he doesn't have an office here, so really it would be Tucker's office, but as the boss, it was Lombardi's.
As soon as the two men were in Tucker's office Lombardi began to question how he was running his business. Starting with why he was allowing men with weapons into his club.
Lombardi was furious. And Tucker knew this as he watched the man throw the thick file into a wall. The papers flew everywhere, including pictures of the employees. As he ran a hand through his hair he noticed he hadn't seen a picture of the that girl in this piles. Without speaking, he searched through the pictures and other papers.
Tucker found it odd, watching this grown man crouch down on the ground and look through papers. He began to sweat as he realized his boss was easily picking up on what he was hiding.
"Why can I not find that girl in these papers?" Lombardi asked as he stood to his feet.
"She's new...so maybe her information hasn't come in yet." Tucker nearly stuttered over his lie.
"I've been hearing...rumors. About my club. That shouldn't be possible." He walked slowly to the door and locked it. The sound of the door locking brought goosebumps to Tucker's skin. He swallowed hard, it was one thing to be alone in a room with one of the most dangerous men in the world, but it was another to be locked, trapped in a room with him. This situation was even more dangerous, because he wasn't happy, and 'happy' meaning wasn't angry. He's never really happy.
"Answer my question. Ok?" He sat on the top of Tucker's desk, intentionally pushing off some of the papers and office supplies. He propped his feet on to the two chairs in front of the desk, and rested his elbows on his knees after taking out his thick black gun from his waistband. He examined the gun as he waited for Tucker's response.
"Ok." He said slowly.
"And don't play dumb with me." He sneered. Tucker nodded his head slowly, "How many?" Lombardi asked.
Tucker opened his mouth to ask 'How many what?' But Lombardi clicked his gun and Tucker shit his mouth immediately.
The look Tucker was given could've man any grown man piss their pants twice in a row. "Six." He said quickly in a whisper.
Lombardi nodded his head, "Get on your knees." He told him.
"Don't question me. Don't ever question me." Lombardi said all too calm. Tucker slowly dropped to his knees, looking up at his boss a few feet in front of him. Lombardi pointed his gun at him causing the man to let in a shaky breath.
"You're a liar." Lombardi stated and fired a bullet into Tucker's thigh. Tucker let out a loud cry and clutched his thigh immediately.
"You've also been hiring underaged girls in my club." He said, firing another shot into his leg. "You've started some twisted sex ring here." He shot a third into the man's hand, which did a second piercing to his original wound.
"Fuck!" Tucker shouted.
It was amusing to Lombardi to watch this man squirm on the ground. He shot at him three more times, the sixth bullet landed in his head and the screaming ceased immediately.
He let out a disappointed sigh, he didn't plan on killing anyone here tonight, and now he needed to find a new person to watch over the club for him. For a normal person, it would be sad that Tucker was now dead due to breaking the trust built with him after knowing him for several years. But Luciano Lombardi was not a normal person. He didn't grow personal connections or get attached to anyone or anything.
It wasn't in his blood, and it couldn't be in his business.
A/N: First chapter's a little rough but bear with me please, I haven't written anything decent in months 😭
Great to be back though!