Chapter 3 - The Interrogation of Shadows
The man in the damp gray trench coat was named Luca. He was a mid-level Falcone lieutenant, known for his discretion and absolute lack of morality. But discretion meant nothing when Matteo Rossi’s enforcers dragged you into the soundproof basement of a meatpacking plant on the edge of the city.
Matteo stood in the corner of the freezing room, the faint smell of copper and rust hanging in the air. Luca was strapped to a steel chair beneath a single, harsh fluorescent bulb. He had been there for six hours, and Matteo had not yet spoken a single word.
Finally, Matteo stepped into the light. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves with slow, deliberate precision.
"Elena Costa," Matteo said, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. "How long has she been on the Falcone payroll?"
Luca spat a mixture of blood and saliva onto the floor, trying to maintain a bravado he clearly did not feel. "Go to hell, Rossi. You think she loves you? She despises you. She’s been ours since the day you met her at the gala."
Matteo’s expression did not change. He had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed out loud was a bitter pill. Three years of a fabricated relationship. Three years of a woman sleeping in his bed, plotting to tear out his throat.
"The wedding," Matteo continued, casually inspecting a heavy steel wrench resting on a nearby table. "The plans I found in the black envelope. You are going to tell me exactly how it goes down. The timing, the shooters, the extraction."
"I don't know anything about—"
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Matteo didn't shout. He moved with a terrifying, explosive speed. The sickening crunch of bone filled the room as the wrench connected with Luca's knee. The man screamed, a raw, ragged sound of sheer agony.
"Let me be clear, Luca," Matteo whispered, leaning down until he was inches from the man's terrified face. "You are not leaving this room alive. But how long it takes you to die is entirely dependent on what you tell me in the next five minutes."
