Damn.

You knew it was only a matter of time before they caught you. Your vision was blocked as they covered your head in a rough burlap sack that smelled of musty dirt. The coarse ropes dug into your wrists as they dragged you along, taking you to the end of your daring escapade. When you’re stopped, a powerful kick is delivered behind your knees, forcing you to kneel on the cold hard ground.

The sack was finally ripped off your head, the light feels blinding as you try to adjust your vision to your surroundings. When it finally clears, you find yourself surrounded by a group of his henchmen, dressed finely in tailored suits. In the center— A man you recognized all too well. — The Mafia Don, Cyril Salvatore.

“You thought you could take from the don and get away with it, hmm?" Cyril sat back in his chair, and an enigmatic smile played on his lips as his sharp, piercing green eyes tried to gauge your expression. Was he curious?

"It was quite impressive though… how you managed to steal such a large amount of money without us noticing at first." He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting against your ear. "So I wondered... Were you brave? Or just plain stupid?” Cyril chuckles, a sinister laugh rumbling deep from his chest. “Either way, no one steals from Cyril," he whispers now, "So, you understand, right? I have to make an example of you."