Sinthetica Read Online Free

inspecting it like a master tradesman.
    “Oh, look at that, would you. Bertha wasn’t given a bath after her last adventure.”
    He used his fingers to pull away a small clump of hair that was stuck in the fork of the claw on the hammer head. He held it up in front of Kittinger and then flicked it to the floor.
    “No please Mr. Molenski…”
    Molenski stepped forward and raised the hammer.
    “Please! I’ll do anything!”
    The Russian lowered the hammer, looking thoughtful.
    “Anything?”
    Kittinger nodded vigorously.
    “Would you sacrifice your wife, Robert?”
    Kittinger looked dumbly at him, as if not understanding the question.
    “I take it that’s a no?”
    With a swift movement, he raised the hammer and brought it down on his prisoner’s right knee cap. There was a terrible, meaty crack and an equally terrible scream.
    Molenski let the scream drag on until it ended in a pitiable gurgle as the businessman’s chin again found his chest. There was now a deep, rapidly darkening purple indent where his kneecap had been.   
    “I asked, Robert, would you sacrifice your wife?”
    Kittinger didn’t look up, just shook his head hopelessly.
    “Hmm… okay.”
    Molenski raised the hammer again, bringing it down on the other knee. The noise of the kneecap popping and the shrieks that followed made his men wince.
    After the screams faded to heavy sobbing, the mob boss again addressed the whimpering businessman. 
    “Now, before I smash your dick and balls into bloody pizza, I want you to answer my question.”
    The threat to his manhood revived Kittinger, and he looked up at his tormentor. Molenski knew the man had come to the realization that he wasn’t leaving the room alive.
    “Tell me, Robert. Would you sacrifice your wife?”
    “Fuck you…”
    Molenski shook his head, a disappointed father to an obstinate child. He rested the head of the hammer on the wooden seat between Kittinger’s bare thighs, just a few inches away from his shrunken manhood.
    “Guess what? You already did.”
    Kittinger looked puzzled. Molenski nodded to Andre who went to the back of the room and picked up a container. It was a fancy hat box, white with a red ribbon tied into an extravagant bow on top. Ivan watched with a sinking feeling. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out what was in the round box.
    “Show him.”
    As soon as Andre appeared holding the box, Kittinger understood. He began to wail, not from physical pain, this time, this was the raw emotion of a man who had lost everything. He turned his head away, refusing to look in the box.
    “You have to look, Robert,” said Molenski, nodding at Ivan. “I’m sorry, but you must know the consequences of your actions before you die.”
    Ivan felt ill but nevertheless came forward. He placed a hand on either side of Kittinger’s sweat soaked head and twisted his head around to face Andre. The man struggled, as Ivan forced him to look down, but the bodyguard was too strong.
    Andre lifted the lid theatrically.
    Kittinger’s mouth opened in a silent scream, closing his eyes against the horror in the box. Ivan released him, and Kittinger turned his head away and doubled over, puking the contents of his stomach onto the concrete floor.
    Some of the vomit spattered the shoes and pants of Molenski.
    Andre’s eyes widened, and he quickly evacuated himself from the area. The rage he had seen in his boss’s eyes had been fleeting, but Andre knew that the next few minutes would be… confronting, to say the least.
    “Hold Mr. Kittinger’s legs apart for me, would you?” asked Molenski, calmly.
    Andre nodded sharply to the new guy, Marco, who rushed forward, eager to please, and grabbed one of Kittinger’s feet. Ivan also stepped forward to grip the other foot. They pried the legs of the broken man open with no resistance. They both looked away, the younger man because the man’s private parts were exposed and rested against the wooden seat, Ivan because he knew what