Taken By The Mafia Lord

Everything was in place before Marcel even arrived, showing the proficiency of his soldiers. Jeremy was on the chair; his arms tied to the armrest and his legs to the sides - this was a much more complicated knot to get out of - and his mouth was gagged.

Normally his men would have begun the torture already and gotten as much information as they could before his arrival. But for his reasons, Marcel wanted to perform the interrogation by himself.

The man was connected to Elijah, Marcel didn't want to leave any stone unturned. He wanted to get as many facts about Elijah he could from him before he decided what became of him. Marcel didn't even see how Elijah's existence was becoming an obsession to him.

Upon his gesture, the rag was removed forcefully from Jeremy's mouth causing him to yelp. He flexed his jaw, glaring at Marcel, deeming him responsible for this. But Marcel ignored his stabbing glare, taking a seat right in front of him.

"I'm cutting straight to the chase," Marcel was not in the mood for pleasantries. If it wasn't for the fact that Arianna was in the hands of good security aka Samson, the lion, he would have been dead worried about her by now.

"As a gang member, you should know what this setting suggests,"

"Torture room," Jeremy spat out with disdain, noticing the weapons on a rack in one corner of the room.

"Exactly," Marcel concurred, "So you get my questions answered and I won't get my hands bloody - which I truly want..." He had to return to Arianna and getting rid of those blood can be quite a hassle, " But do otherwise and all I can say is it would turn out bloody," He didn't sugarcoat his words.

But Jeremy rolled his eyes, "Elijah was right, you're nothing more than a bully,"

"That's kind of unfair considering he's the kettle calling the pot black. But on the bright side, you know Elijah and that's a good thing," He noticed.

Marcel went on, "At least for me. That knowledge won't do you any good if you don't spill it all out,"

"And if I don't, what would you do exactly? Torture me to get the truth and kill me afterward?" Jeremy smirked, "Go ahead and do whatever you want, Big bully. I would just take whatever I know to the grave," He was smug.

Marcel was taken aback by his arrogance. For such a weakling, he sure looked confident and that wasn't normal. People in his position would be begging for mercy and spilling their beans knowing the suffering that awaits him, unless Jeremy was immune to pain - which was impossible - or he had something on him that was worth the pain. And it irritated Marcel because he hated being in suspense.

Or perhaps, that arrogance was just a façade.

Marcel then sat with his leg crossed, casually scrutinizing the bound man and scanning what area of his body would hurt the most.

Suddenly, he watched Samuel out of the corner of his eyes moving toward him and stopped to whisper a piece of information that made Marcel's lips curl up.

Almost immediately, Marcel turned and whispered something back to Samuel who nodded and left to do whatever he asked of him.

Meanwhile, Jeremy became conscious of the secret conversation between Marcel and Samuel. It made him uncomfortable as if they discovered a secret of his. And there was only one secret he had, Jeremy took a deep breath. It surely wasn't that.

"So," Marcel clapped his hand, "So where were we?" he tilted his head questioningly.

"What did you both talk about?" Jeremy couldn't hide his nervousness anymore. That secret exchange gnawed at him.

Marcel smiled darkly, "Why? Is there something you're curious about?" He leaned closer from his seat, "Or are you scared I might have discovered something about you?."

At that comment, Jeremy gulped, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. The anticipation was beginning to kill him.

"Y-you're talking rubbish!" Jeremy stuttered, looking away.

Sweat rolled down Jeremy's forehead and Marcel witnessed that - he got him where he wanted him.

"So tell me, Jeremy, what do you know about Elijah?"

"Nothing," He answered. However, his earlier cockiness was gone now, replaced by slight fear.

"Tsk tsk," Marcel clicked his tongue, "Wrong answer, Jeremy. Wrong answer," He said just as Samuel returned to the hall - with something in his grasp.

He went straight ahead to Marcel and handed the pouch over to him before standing at the side with two others beside him.

Marcel tossed the pouch in the air and caught it, noticing the way Jeremy's gaze followed his moves. He did it three consecutive times and finally stopped, his demeanor changing entirely.

"Do you know why most members of the gang are banned from experimenting with drugs? Unless of course, you are in the drug cartel you can't sell what you can't use." Marcel asked him and even without receiving an answer, he went on.

"Because once you are addicted, you become a deadweight. A slave at the mercy of chemicals. You can be manipulated by the highest bidder, anyone who can provide the source of that euphoria. No organized mob wants that," Even as he said that, Marcel pulled out the content from the pouch packaged in a visible, ziplock bag.

Jeremy drooled at the sight of the white powder, however, his nails bit into his palms as if he was trying to retain a part of his sanity.

"So tell me, Jeremy? What do you know about Elijah?"

"Nothing,"

"Oh, I'm going to love this game," Marcel promised him with a devilish smile.

He pushed his seat closer, before letting the bag dangling from his hand, "All you have to do is to just tell me what you know and the drug's yours,"

"Just stop it!" He tried to block him out.

"Come on, stop being a p*ssy, why are you being loyal to a guy you hardly know, anyway? Just tell me the truth and the drug's yours," Marcel continued to tempt him with it.

Veins were already bulging from his head and neck as he tried to control himself. It was a little while till he buckled under the pressure.

"No, you're lying," Jeremy shook his head stubbornly, "Once you get what you want, I'm as good as dead. So I can't tell you."

He knew how they operated.