Ensnared by Mafia, Days and Nights

Henry Jefferson steadied himself with a deep breath before placing the phone back to his ear. "Hello, it's me. I'm looking for someone."

Twenty minutes later, Assistant Cooper hurried in, reporting, "Sir, she's still not talking." Slipping on his black finger cots, Henry descended in the elevator to the basement chamber.

In the dimly lit chamber, Cynthia's moans reverberated, her whimpering filled with agony.

Henry pulled a slender hook needle from a row of torture devices and approached her.

After enduring a brutal round of torture, Cynthia was barely conscious, her body gruesomely mangled-a truly horrific sight. Henry toyed with a slender hook needle, taunting, "Will you talk, or not?"

The menacing gleam of the silver needle against the black finger cots sent chills down the spine.

Cynthia looked up at the needle with a shudder, her swollen face making her words almost unintelligible. "I..." she hesitated.

But upon catching Henry's imposing figure, she reconsidered.

She couldn't allow Giselle to be rescued!

Determined to protect her secret and validate her suffering, she resolved not to break.

"I won't talk!" Cynthia declared firmly.

Henry's patience waned. He handed the gleaming silver needle to his assistant and gave a covert nod.

The assistant, understanding the silent command, heated the needle until it turned red-hot.

Cynthia's screams filled the chamber as she thrashed helplessly, her legs restrained by unyielding shackles. "No... please, no!"

Her screams, raw and harrowing, bounced off the walls, sounding less and less human.

After enduring thirty excruciating minutes, Henry stepped out of the chamber and casually discarded his finger cots in a bin.

Behind him, his subordinates dragged out an almost lifeless Cynthia and tossed her onto the courtyard of the villa like a discarded doll.

A van rolled up to the estate, halting before Cynthia. The driver slid the door open and pushed two figures out.

Fiona Landon recoiled in horror upon recognizing the grotesque figure as Cynthia.

She knelt by Cynthia, attempting to cradle her face but stopped, fearing she might touch the wounds.

Clark Lambert, observing Henry's stern face, was quick to dissociate, "Sir, how did she end up here?"

He pretended to be unaware, but Fiona gave him a sharp glare.

Knowing when to switch sides, Clark groveled at Henry's feet, "Sir, this girl clearly doesn't know her place. I'll take her back and make sure she learns it."

Planning your weekend reading? Ensure you're on 05s.org for uninterrupted enjoyment. The next chapter is just a click away, exclusively available on our site. Happy reading! Henry's presence was dark and menacing.

"Where is Giselle?" His tone was so even it barely sounded interrogative.

Fiona, outraged at seeing her daughter in such a state, provoked him, "I don't know where Giselle is, but she's likely enjoying herself, surrounded by a dozen men."

At her words, Henry's grip tightened on Fiona's chin, lifting her off the ground by that single point.

He frowned, his voice thick with warning, "I gave you a chance."

Ignoring her struggles, he threw her to the ground.

Fiona hit the ground hard, trying to get up but was quickly pinned down by Henry's men, who unleashed a brutal beating upon her.

Henry turned to glance at Clark Lambert.

With Fiona and Cynthia as precedents, Clark knew better than to disagree. He quickly threw himself to the ground in front of Henry, pleading, "Sir, please spare me. I know where Giselle is. I'm not with them, I..." Henry, short on patience, cut him off, "Speak."