Leonardo descended the stairs with slow, deliberate steps. The air in the basement was cold and heavy, the dim lights casting long shadows on the concrete walls. Chains clinked faintly in the corner, and the smell of blood, metal, and fear lingered in the air like a curse that never left.
And there he was.
Tied to the chair, bloodied and barely able to lift his head, was the same man who had aimed his weapon at Leonardo when he first stepped out of the car. The man had a scar running across his jaw and a smirk that was long gone now replaced with trembling lips and swollen eyes.
Leonardo said nothing. He didn’t need to.
He walked slowly to the corner of the room, where a metal table stood against the wall. On it were tools, not the kind found in a mechanic’s garage, but the kind no one ever wanted to see up close. Blades. Clamps. Wires. A hammer.
He slid on a pair of dark leather gloves, tightening each finger one by one. His black shirt hugged his frame, his muscles tense but composed. The only sound in the room was the soft creaking of the gloves as he flexed his fingers and the terrified breathing of the man in the chair.
Leonardo’s eyes gleamed, not with excitement, but with sharp calculation. He wasn’t the kind to enjoy torture. But he was the kind to do whatever was necessary.
Without rushing, he picked up a slender knife and turned toward the man.
"You fought well," Leonardo said, his tone low and calm, which only made it more terrifying. "But you missed."
The man swallowed hard.
Leonardo’s gaze didn’t waver as he stepped closer, the light catching the edge of the blade in his hand.
"Now tell me..." he crouched slightly, eyes level with his captive, voice like frost, "who gave you my schedule?"
The man tried to look tough for a second. But then Leonardo smiled. Not kindly. Not warmly. Just...smiled.
And that was enough to make the man’s bravado crack.
"W-we didn’t know it was going to be you!" he stammered. "We were told it was a minor target...your younger brother maybe, or someone from your team!"
"Lies," Leonardo whispered as he stood straight. "Try again."
He reached for a second tool.
The interrogation had just begun.
The metallic needle in Leonardo’s hand was long, gleaming under the single hanging bulb, its tip glowing with a faint electric pulse. It wasn’t just a needle, it was custom-built to stimulate nerves without breaking skin. A tool meant to draw the truth without a single visible mark... unless Leonardo wanted otherwise.
He stepped forward slowly, letting the man watch every movement.
"You know, I don’t enjoy this," Leonardo said coldly. "But I can’t allow rats to crawl around and think I won’t bite back."
The man’s body tensed, already shaking in fear. Sweat rolled down his temple as Leonardo crouched beside him, holding the glowing needle close to the man’s cheek...not touching, just hovering, like a whisper of pain waiting to scream.
"I-I really don’t know anything!" the man stammered.
Leonardo didn’t speak. He gently pressed the needle against the man’s neck, right on a nerve point.
A jolt of pain flashed through his body. Not enough to paralyze, but enough to make him scream like his spine was snapping.
The man thrashed in the chair, wrists straining against the ropes, breath quick and uneven now. Leonardo waited, eyes calm, the way a lion waits before sinking teeth into its prey.
"I’ll ask again," Leonardo said quietly. "Who gave the order?"
"I-I swear... it was the boss," the man finally cried, voice cracked and weak. "Pablo... it was Pablo! He wants your head, he said... you’ve grown too big, too strong. He wants your empire!"
Leonardo’s eyes narrowed.
"Why today?"
"I don’t know! He just said tonight... tonight was the right time! Something about your schedule being leaked!"
Leonardo’s jaw clenched.
"And you came to kill me... uninvited," he muttered darkly.
The man looked up with tears in his eyes, "I told you everything, man! I told you! Please—let me go now! Please! I have a son—I swear I was forced—"
Leonardo stood slowly, expression unreadable. The needle still in his hand, glowing faintly like a promise yet to be kept.
"Unfortunately," he said, voice low, "I don’t let people who aim for my life walk free. Even if they cry. Even if they beg."
The man’s hope faded instantly.
"But you’ll die quicker than others," Leonardo added. "Because you talked."
And with one silent gesture, his men stepped forward.
Leonardo turned away, slipping off his gloves as if nothing had happened. His face was calm, cold, focused. He wasn’t just a mafia leader, he was a storm.
Leonardo’s footsteps echoed faintly as he climbed the marble stairs back to his private floor. The house was quiet now....too quiet. Shadows stretched long across the hallway, and his cold face didn’t flinch even once.
Just as he pushed open the door to his office, his phone rang sharply in his pocket.
He took it out, already annoyed. Without checking the ID, he answered curtly—
"What."
"Sir... that sniper..." the voice on the other end hesitated, clearly nervous. "He managed to run away."
For a second, the air around Leonardo felt heavier.
He didn’t reply.
"Sir?" the voice prompted again.
Leonardo exhaled slowly through his nose, his expression growing darker.
"So you’re telling me," he said in a dangerously calm tone, "a man stationed less than 100 meters from my location, who injured someone under my care, slipped past all of you?"
The silence on the other end was suffocating.
"We—we tracked him to the south ridge. He had help. An escape car. But we’ve blocked all routes. He won’t get far."
Leonardo’s eyes didn’t blink.
"He already got far," he muttered.
He turned toward the window, staring into the night. His reflection in the glass was hard and cold...just like his voice.
"Find him. If he’s breathing, that’s still too much mercy."
With a furious flick of his wrist, he ended the call and hurled the phone out the office window...