Chapter 3 The Unlikely Capture

• The basement was suffocating—its damp walls seemed to close in around Marissa as the reality of her situation sank deeper into her consciousness.
• Her hands were bound to the chair, her wrists chafed raw from the rough rope, and her breathing was ragged as she looked up at Tony and Vincenzo, the two mafia bosses whose banter had become a twisted form of entertainment for them.
• Tony and Vincenzo, locked in a power struggle masked by jest, loomed over her with a sort of casual menace that only those who held the upper hand could possess.
• “Well, since we can’t figure out who’s in charge here,” Tony began, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, “how about we let fate decide? A little game of chance. Let’s say… we decide the next round of fun with a good ol’ game of rock-paper-scissors.”
• Marissa’s heart skipped a beat. “N-no, please! Don’t!” she stammered, the words spilling out of her mouth in a desperate plea.
• Her eyes were wide, filled with terror as the two men seemed to consider her words for a split second—only to burst into cruel laughter.
• “Please! Please, I’m begging you!” Marissa’s voice quivered, her desperation palpable.
• But the two men ignored her, their focus entirely on the twisted game they were about to play.
• “Rock-paper-scissors?” Vincenzo chuckled darkly, rolling up his sleeves. “A classic. I’m in.”
• Tony shot Marissa a playful wink. “Don’t worry, doll. It’s all in good fun. After all, you did wander into our little playground uninvited.”
• Vincenzo nodded in agreement, his eyes gleaming with a mix of cruelty and amusement.
• “Yeah, you know the rules. You snoop around where you don’t belong, you pay the price. But hey, you might even enjoy this—if you live through it.”
• Tony and Vincenzo stood opposite each other, their faces set in mock concentration as they prepared for the game.
• They extended their hands, ready to play, as if what they were about to do was the most normal thing in the world.
• “Rock, paper, scissors—shoot!” they called out in unison.
• Tony’s hand formed a fist—rock—while Vincenzo’s hand was flat—paper. Vincenzo smirked in triumph as he saw that he had won the round.
• “Looks like I’m up first,” Vincenzo declared, his voice laced with sadistic glee.
• Marissa’s heart pounded wildly in her chest as she watched Vincenzo approach, a cruel smile tugging at his lips. He leaned in close, so close that she could smell the tobacco and alcohol on his breath.
• “Let’s start with something simple,” Vincenzo said, his voice low and menacing. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gleaming switchblade, flicking it open with a practiced ease that sent a shiver down Marissa’s spine.
• “Please, no!” Marissa cried, her voice cracking with fear. But Vincenzo was unmoved by her pleas.
• “Well, we’ve got a feisty one here,” Vincenzo remarked as he ran the blade lightly along Marissa’s cheek, not deep enough to cut, but enough to make her squirm in her bindings. “A pretty face like yours… it’s a shame to ruin it, but rules are rules.”
• Marissa squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will herself somewhere—anywhere—else as she felt the cold steel trace along her skin.
• Tony watched from the side, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking almost bored. “Vincenzo, don’t go too far. We still need her alive, remember?”
• “Yeah, yeah, I’m just warming up,” Vincenzo muttered, his eyes gleaming with dark humor. “You know, Tony, you’re too soft sometimes. This one needs to learn a lesson.”
• Marissa whimpered as the blade nicked her skin, a tiny droplet of blood welling up from the cut. Vincenzo pulled back for a moment, seemingly admiring his handiwork.
• “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Vincenzo sneered, wiping the blade on Marissa’s sleeve. “But don’t worry, we’re just getting started.”
• “Vincenzo, I swear, if you keep cutting her up, she won’t be able to tell us anything,” Tony said, his tone shifting from casual to slightly irritated. “What’s the point if we end up killing her before we know who sent her?”
• Vincenzo waved him off. “Relax, Tony. She’s not going anywhere.”
• But then, something unexpected happened. Marissa, still trembling and in shock from the pain, managed to choke out a few words.
• “I’m not… I’m not a spy… I swear… I’m just a student…”
• Tony raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. He crouched down beside Marissa, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze.
• “A student, huh? A likely story. What are you studying? Undercover operations?”
• Marissa shook her head frantically. “No, no! Literature! I’m just a literature student! I was only exploring the city… I didn’t mean to end up here!”
• Tony chuckled, clearly enjoying the absurdity of the situation. “Literature, huh? You picked the wrong library to visit, sweetheart.”
• Vincenzo seemed to find this amusing as well. “She’s got a point, Tony. Maybe we’ve been a little too harsh on our guest. After all, it’s not every day we get to meet a bookworm with such a bad sense of direction.”
• Marissa’s heart was pounding in her ears, but she dared to hope that maybe—just maybe—they would let her go.
• But then Tony’s smile faded, replaced by a look of cold calculation. “Even if she’s telling the truth, Vincenzo, we can’t just let her walk out of here. She’s seen too much.”
• “Exactly,” Vincenzo agreed, nodding thoughtfully. “Loose ends are bad for business.”
• Tony sighed, as if what he was about to say genuinely pained him. “Looks like we’re back to square one. I guess we’ll just have to play another round of rock-paper-scissors.”
• Marissa’s blood ran cold as she realized that this was far from over. “No! Please, no more!” she begged, her voice breaking.
• But Tony and Vincenzo were already getting ready for the next round, their banter returning to its casual cruelty.
• “Let’s raise the stakes this time,” Vincenzo suggested, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Loser gets to choose the next method.”
• Tony grinned. “You’re on.”
• “Rock, paper, scissors—shoot!” they called out, their hands once again revealing their choices. This time, Tony’s hand was scissors, and Vincenzo’s was rock.
• Tony cursed under his breath as Vincenzo chuckled darkly. “Looks like I win again. Let’s see… what should we do next?”
• As Vincenzo pondered, Marissa felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She couldn’t take much more of this—both physically and mentally.
• The thought of enduring more torture at the hands of these men was unbearable.
• But then, as if the universe had finally decided to throw her a lifeline, Marissa noticed something out of the corner of her eye.
• The door to the basement was slightly ajar, and just beyond it, she could see the faint outline of a figure.
• Her mind raced.
• Was this her chance?
• Could she somehow escape while Tony and Vincenzo were distracted?
• But just as she began to formulate a plan, Vincenzo’s voice broke through her thoughts.
• “I think I’ve got it,” he said, a wicked smile playing on his lips. “How about we try a little waterboarding? It’s a classic.”
• Marissa’s heart plummeted. She knew what waterboarding was, and the mere thought of it made her feel like she was going to be sick.
• But before she could react, Vincenzo was already barking orders to his men, who rushed off to gather the necessary supplies.
• Tony leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms with a sigh. “I don’t know, Vincenzo. Waterboarding’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?”
• Vincenzo shrugged. “It’s effective. Besides, she won’t be able to keep up the innocent act for long. One way or another, she’ll crack.”
• Marissa felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she struggled against her bonds.
• This was it.
• She was going to die here, all because she had made one wrong turn in the city.
• But then, just as Vincenzo’s men returned with the water and cloth, something remarkable happened.
• The door to the basement swung open, and a figure stormed in—a tall, muscular man with a chiseled jaw and piercing eyes.
• He was dressed in all black, and his presence immediately commanded the attention of everyone in the room.
• “Who the hell are you?” Vincenzo demanded, pushing off the wall and standing to face the intruder.
• The man didn’t respond. Instead, he moved with lightning speed, grabbing one of Vincenzo’s men by the throat and slamming him against the wall.
• The man let out a strangled cry before collapsing to the floor, unconscious.
• Vincenzo’s eyes widened in shock as the stranger turned to him, his expression unreadable. “You’re not welcome here,” the man growled, his voice low and menacing.
• “Father,”