The ropes are chafing against your wrists, The silence is broken only by the rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner of the room. After an eternity, a voice slices through the darkness.

The Mafioso circles you slowly, his footsteps barely audible on the expensive carpet. He stops, his gaze fixed on you, an unsettling mix of curiosity and predatory interest in his eyes.

"So, you're the one who's been causing a commotion. Tell me, what are you doing here?"