Chapter 2 Bloody deal

Bounded to a chair, hands tied firmly behind her back, almost cutting off blood circulation, eyes blindfolded with a thick black tie plunging her vision into nothingness, and mouth firmly gagged with a piece of cloth; the blonde-haired lady with a stern face remained utterly calm for someone in such a position.

Beads of sweat broke all over her sweet, stern face, and she flinched, only slightly, at the sound of the metal clanking that could be heard within the room she was being held in as a captive. She wondered if Senna wanted her tortured first before cancelling Christmas on her.

Senna's eyes spitted fury as he gazed at the filthy bitch that had almost run down his entire mobster organization. Left to him, he would have loved to pluck her eyes out and feed them to his dogs, but he had more pressing issues to attend to in his nightclub.

"You almost had me, but now I own your life, bitch," Senna growled into her ears. He freed her blindfold and took away the cloth on her mouth.

Amanda's eyes twitched to adjust to the electrical lights that lit up the room because of her prolonged period of being accustomed to the darkness by the blindfold. She counted four men in a blur, including Senna, and finally, her vision steadied.

Senna wanted to kill the lady, partly because he had let himself be pulled into her trap, but currently, she was worth more to him, alive than dead. He'd learned that her name wasn't Candy Rivera but Amanda Peres, a trained spy for the Puppeteer.

The Puppeteer was notoriously famous for taking out the highest-ranking criminal organizations. Nobody knew his motivation, how, and why he chose his targets, but Senna was now his target.

"Just go ahead and kill me already," Amanda said flatly. "Because I'd rather die than give up on any information about the Puppeteer."

"Have no delusions. I will kill you, but before then, you'll tell me everything I need to know," Senna said. He looked at one of his Capo, which told the man all he needed to do–– torture, but don't kill her.

"You are the delusional one if you think I'm scared of you or of being tortured."

Senna snorted. "Do you know why the Italians call me Ghost? It's because, just like a ghost, I inspire people to be afraid. I am the embodiment of fear."

"In Afghanistan, I was buried alive in a a cemetery full of ghosts. So, I love to disappoint you." Senna smiled at her words and replied, "Well then, I guess you're just a sucker for pain. I sincerely hope that you enjoy being tortured. I'll be back." "I know you will."

As soon as Senna began exiting the room, he could hear the capo he'd earlier communicated with silently slap Amanda hard. He turned to see him punch her on her lower abdomen, but Amanda could take a beating, it seemed.

Well, that was only the beginning, Senna thought to himself. He wondered what her threshold for pain would be after one hour. As he exited the room, the other two Capos followed him.

The sound of music, strobing party lights, strippers dancing with cash being sprayed on them, people drinking or smoking, and the indistinct conversations were all the telltale signs of Senna's nightclub in action.

He looked down at the people just looking to have a good time and then looked out for those who knew the actual business that the nightclub was migrating. He saw Batista, the pressing issue he needed to attend to, and walked down the stairs to meet him.

Batista was older than Senna. He was a bulky man around his fifties, but he was still serving his purpose in the Mafia game. He had a fat cigar caught in between his thick black lips. Senna, on the other hand, was younger and had a far more prominent role as a Don, but he had some modicum of respect for Batista.

"Hey man, what's the word?" Senna said, offering a handshake.

"Hey man, I've got some serious weights coming in tomorrow night," Batista said, puffing on his cigar and shaking hands with Senna. "The Puppeteer took down my first connect, so I hoped to move these weights to a more secure location."

"Say less, I've got you amigo," Senna said. "But in exchange for storing your weight, I'll need your favor."

"What could I possibly do for the devil?"

"Diablo Metrakis, I need to clip a man in his organization, and I don't want to take the responsibility."

"A'ight bet, consider it a done deal. The mother fucker you want to be clipped won't even know what hit him when he gets his due."

"Just be careful," Senna said.

"So, who in Diablo's cartel do you want to take out of the picture?"

"Marchetti, his consigliere, and Diablo will not rest until he avenges the deed."

"Diablo's consigliere?" Batista wasn't expecting such a high-ranking member to be Senna's target.

"Yes, any problem?"

"None," Batista replied after a moment's hesitation. "You scratch my back, and I scratch yours."

"The arrival of the Puppeteer in our city is a real problem for us mobsters," Senna said.

"Indeed, have any of his puppets paid you a visit yet?"

Senna thought about Amanda briefly as he responded, "No, I haven't been infiltrated."

"Alright, that's good. But be less worried about infiltration."

"What do you mean?"

"The Puppeteer doesn't only infiltrate. He knows how to compromise people, too. So watch everyone closely that's working with you."

"Sick. Maybe we should set a trap for him and see if he baits."

"What do you mean?"

"Which are you more concerned about, the safety of your weight or catching this bastard?"

"If you suggest using my drugs as bait, I can't take the risk. Those drugs not only have the potential of street values, but they are irreplaceable."

"Do you trust me?"

"Almost with my life," Batista replied.

"Then, believe me, I won't risk your merchandise if I didn't think I could win against the Puppeteer."

Batista took a deep breath. "I'll have to hear more about your plan."

"Likewise, I want to hear how you'll handle the Marchetti situation."

After conducting business with Batista, Senna went to the VIP room to attend to a more personal interaction.

"Bring in the girls one at a time," he ordered.

After two minutes, a girl was brought in before Senna.

"Say Sorry!" he ordered. His voice was cold and electrifying from the dark shadows of the room.

She responded to the given order immediately, despite not knowing what she'd done to apologize.

Senna growled in anger. "Not her. Get her out of my sight!"

"Yes, sir," responded the capo.

A few more minutes and another girl was brought to him from the selection. He was dazzled by her beautiful features.

"Say Sorry," Senna repeated in fury.

"And why should I do that?" The meek yet stubborn voice replied.

"When the devil tells you to do something, You do it," he sneered. "It's her, take her away."