Dragon
Blood runs down my forehead, my arms are tied, and I keep my eyes closed to organize my mind. I was helping Tip with a load of beers in the alley behind the bar, I was pushed forward with brute force, something exploded, I remember hitting my head against the wall and then blacking out.
That must be the cause of the bleeding...
But being strapped to a chair, no.
Crap!
The cold water hits my head, I look up to meet the idiot wyvern, I look to the side seeing my friend looking even worse.
“Finally.” The sickening voice only increases the anger. – Who will speak first? I roll my eyes at the same instant I feel the fist hitting my jaw, the taste of rust mixing with the saliva.
I smirked, so many years serving the country for a motherfucking foreigner to think he can figure out my whole life with one punch.
El-K being way more terrifying than this jerk.
I can count ten men organized to protect the bastard, the space as wide as a large abandoned warehouse. Alone without weapons I would even consider it dangerous, but next to Tip all we need is to loosen those bonds.
Vincenzo realizes he won't have a word from us, he turns around walking towards one of the men giving orders, they start to organize themselves.
"Who are you giving the weapons to?" – He approaches, pulls a short knife from inside his suit. - I'll ask again, who did you give the weapons to?
I don't take my gaze from his eyes, as the knife penetrates the flesh tearing the muscle over my shoulder, I absorb all the pain holding it in my mind as I've been trained, without altering the expression at all.
- Check it out guys, we have a resistant - Everyone joins in the booming laughter.
His eyes a lighter blue than mine, dark and cold, anger at being ignored etching his face like a spoiled child. Without the full suit lined up, the dress shirt pulled up to the elbows in a rumpled way, the suspenders down without a tie, I watch the bulging vein throbbing in his neck, wanting just a moment to slit his throat.
When he came to the club a few months ago asking for weapons, I thought it was a fight within the family, they are not known for making outside contacts.
Now, considering everything, Stefano was supposed to supply the weapons, the date coincides with the time when the De Angelis looked for the club.
A fucked up puzzle.
The cell phone rings causing the bastard to back away a little, arguing in Italian with someone flashing a dark smile as he hangs up.
“I always knew you Americans were too dumb to do something without command. - He speaks boasting.
He shouldn't ignore the fact that we are ex seals, perhaps in his disturbed mind, he believes that with offense he can manage to mess with the psychological.
I arch my brow, making my face contort in anger, it looks like someone here has a short fuse.
I feel a tugging in my lip, another time it will be a great joke.
Annoyed with the lack of attention, the bastard punches Tip, looking for my gaze all the time, again his cell phone rings, moving away to answer it, I see my brother opening a bloody smile.
Fucker liked to be spanked, damn sick.
Head and shoulder aside, I think the rest I can handle whatever that asshole's shit is.
A few minutes go by, I hear the sound of the car lifting its head and the men move around taking other positions, we must be far from downtown New York, but it's still day, it couldn't have been that long.
— We were unconscious for three hours. – I hear Tip whisper – We're far from the center, but we shouldn't be out of state.
I try to loosen the knot without any success, huffing in frustration!
How can that little girl have the same origins as this asshole, Italians are all shit, narcissistic and full of pomp.
I still can't believe I got involved with an Italian girl, if I stop to think about it I'm in this shit because of her, that smart mouth always with an answer on the tip of the sharp tongue, the dark eyes without any emotion.
However, all I would like now is to be there watching her sway her hips as she walks furiously about Lucy.
It took me a while to understand what I had done to attract such fury after spending the entire night torn between sucking her pussy and shoving myself in it, how could she be angry?!
I realized my stupidity as soon as I arrived at the bar and ran into Lucy, trying once again to get attention, that's why I went to help Tip. Her advances are only causing me repulsion, even the smell, I just want to smell my brunette with bluish locks.
If she was jealous I need to make her feel more often, the woman gets hot as hell, it's going to be a delicious challenge getting Diana to talk to me after all that ice.
The more I have her in my arms, the more I want to have her, we spent the day in bed, today, when the day dawned, I was only sure that there is my place.
I lose my thoughts when one of the men steps forward, then the torture session begins, along with hunger and thirst.
I managed to schedule a 60-minute break between them, the same with Tip who every time he cracks a smile makes men angrier.
The hours never seem to pass, the shadow that was projected through a window gradually disappearing, I feel my body weighed down by the dehydration of my head hammering non-stop.
- Dragon - I hear the voice far away. - Now is not the fucking time!
— My head hurts like hell — I try to justify.
— It doesn't come, we've been through worse things, stop being soft - He stops breathing - Did the girl accept?
Talking about her is like pumping adrenaline into my veins, I lean my head on my good shoulder so I can look at him.
— She says no, but today she was biting with jealousy of Lucy. - Unable to contain the smile like the passionate idiot I am.
"And you liked that, didn't you?"
— I don't know what she has, but that animal we learn to tame in training. – Sigh – Damn, this animal that lives trapped here, feels free with her.
We were silent, during our years of training we learned to control all kinds of pain, facial expressions, only the worst training was left for last, before the war.
They wanted to send men who were capable of anything, but mostly endure.
It was a repetitive cycle throughout the course, finding the weak point, destroying the weak point and in the end all we had left was a little sanity and psychological.
I remember the speech at the beginning of that shitty month like it was yesterday.
'If you've come this far, it's because you're good men, but we don't need good men. We need elite soldiers ready to handle anything.”
It was funny how after fifteen whole days of being treated like wild animals being hunted, bruised and sore the psychologist gathered everyone in a talking circle.
“This training is for you to learn to tame the animal that lives in you, so you will be able to master battles in the Middle East”.
She was right, war is a prelude to hell.
At the end of that month of 100 men 90 were discharged for psychological incapacity, among the ten approved, my brother and I remember how he made a point of introducing himself to each of the other soldiers.
In the end, only six returned.