"LET ME GO". A middle aged man groaned as he was being pulled down the stairs by two hefty men along with his wife. One held his left hand, while the other held his right as they dragged his body down the stairs.

"Please let me go". His wife screamed as one of the men grasped her hair from behind and forced her to go downstairs. "Where are you taking me to?". She asked, struggling to pull her hair from his grasp with her two hands while she was being pushed downstairs. "I will call the cops if you don't let me go". The woman screamed but they acted cold towards her and continued hauling her downstairs.

The two couples struggled as they were being forced downstairs to the spacious sitting room before being pushed to the ground.

"Ahhh!". His wife yelled when she landed on her stomach painfully. She was in her middle age and her body was too weak to be experiencing this pain.

She screamed as her hair was yanked up and her two hands were forced to her back then tied by a strong rope by two men before she was left to stand on her knees. The woman was shivering in fear and sweat was building up in her body, she tried to stand on her feet to run but a gun was planted at the side of her head which made her frozen at that spot.

"Get up and I will shoot you". One of the men who had pressed the gun against her head threatened and out of fear she didn't dare to make a move.

She sobbed as she knelt there in silence, watching the commotion before her. She didn't know what was going on, all she knew was her and her husband were trying to have a nice sleep at night until their peaceful home was invaded and they were being dragged down from their room to the sitting room.

The moment the man was being pushed to the ground, his two hands landed on the ground to avoid his body from hitting the cold surface. His body trembled when his gaze met with a pair of a well polished black shoe and the only person he knew that wore this expensive shoe was his master. Slowly, he lifted his eyes with his head still down just to confirm who the person sitting on his coach was. No one had ever dared to invade his mansion and whoever did try must be fearless because he had a lot of men protecting his building with an electric fence that could avoid anyone from touching the gate.

The man's heart skipped and his eyes widened when his gaze met with Leonardo Dario Domenico, one of the most wanted, young and dangerous Mafia in Italy. A twenty nine years man who had murdered a hundreds of people and slaved a thousands of people’s wife and daughters in his sex club room. Of course, he is the owner of the club, named ndrangheta, which is also known as one of the dangerous and powerful criminal organizations in Italy. It was a dungeon of pleasure and torture where both men and women who had crossed his line are being taken there to be tortured sexually to death. It was more like a pimp job he does because horny men and women come there to seek pleasure from his sex club room.

Leonardo was a dangerous man, rare and hard to catch. He is mostly feared by a lot of people, only his story and rumor about him was enough to scare people away. He deals on drugs and owns a sex club meant to torture his enemies. This same man was his master, the man he had worked for five years, now sitting in front of him like a king on the coach, in his own house while he was at his feet.

He was seated comfortably with one leg crossed on the other, in a black pants and a collared white shirt which tightly showed off his bicep. Four bottoms of his shirt were left unbuttoned and wide open which exposed the tattoo designed all over his chest, down to his waist. It was a tattoo of an eagle, whole wigs were spread wide to cover his full shirt. His dark straight hair was neatly glued to the back and grazing his shoulder while a strand of long hair fell across the side of his handsome face. His brown sparkling eyes were spellbinding and could make anyone's body weaken just by staring at it. He had natural pink full lips and his nose and jawline were perfectly smooth and straight which made him look extremely elegant.

Sango was scared that his master must have found the real reason why he had retired to work as one of his henchmen. Beads of sweat formed in his head while his heart pounded fast and deep against his chest.

"Quanto ti ha dato?". The devilish man asked in his cold Italian accent. His voice was so deep and void with no emotion as he stared deadly into the poor man's eyes. In English he was asking the man "How much did he give you?".