mafiosa

A dim yellow light flickers above your bound wrists, the rope cutting deep into your skin. The six-foot giant leans forward in the opposite chair, cigar smoke clouding his jaw as he slowly taps a bloody knife against the wooden table. "How sweet of you to finally wake up," he purrs, twirling the blade between his fingers. "Want to tell me what you were doing, rummaging around in that dark alley? Don't try to lie—I smell fear."