Episode 5

"Alright, let's begin," the man said, standing up with calculated calm.

He had taken off his black jacket, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing tanned skin lined with prominent veins and several tattoos on his arms. He advanced with firm steps to the desk and leaned against it, resting his powerful arms on the edge. His eyes, cold and penetrating, were fixed on Alonzo, who, despite his best effort to remain calm, felt the growing urge to run away.

"Alonzo, what is your real name?" he asked in a voice that brooked no argument.

"I have no other name," Alonzo replied without hesitation. "I am Alonzo Santini."

The man frowned, pressing his hands against the desk, his face visibly irritated.

"Do you want to die?" he growled, taking the gun from the table and loading it with a movement that echoed in the room. The barrel of the gun aligned with Alonzo's forehead, who struggled to contain the panic that he felt rising in his throat.

"No, please!" Alonzo pleaded, trying to move, but the ties on his wrists and ankles prevented him. His efforts were useless. "You are making a mistake. I do not belong to Interpol, nor to any organization. I am just a common person, I work in a real estate agency."

The man narrowed his eyes, evaluating each of Alonzo's words. The pallor of his face and the almost colorless lips revealed his fear. His bloodshot eyes tried to hold back tears, and although the man's brow relaxed slightly, the tension in the room remained palpable.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked in a grave voice.

"I only know that you are Mr. Vega," Alonzo replied. "You were going to buy the mansion."

Vega nodded slowly, casting a fleeting glance at the men behind Alonzo. Without saying a word, one of them left the room, closing the door with a soft click.

"Tell me, Alonzo," Vega said, leaning toward him, his voice almost a whisper, "do you really know nothing about me?"

The man's perfume was so strong that it made Alonzo feel nauseous. He tried to swallow the bitter taste that was beginning to form in his mouth, but his efforts were in vain.

"No, I don't know anything..." he tried to say, but the intense aroma overwhelmed him. The bitter taste and the urge to vomit became impossible to control. He closed his mouth, desperately trying not to throw up, but the discomfort grew rapidly. He turned his head just in time to avoid getting Vega dirty.

"Damn it!" Vega exclaimed, taking a step back with a look of disgust. He moved away from the desk, looking at Alonzo with distaste.

Alonzo watched him in dismay after throwing up. "I'm sorry, Mr. Vega, I didn't mean to. Your perfume is too strong."

"Are you telling me that I disgust you?" Vega frowned, and Alonzo shook his head quickly, fearing that he would make the situation even worse.

"No, no... I'm just a little sick. I've been very sensitive to smells lately," he tried to justify himself, his voice trembling.

"Shut up," Vega interrupted coldly, leaving the gun on the desk. "I am not interested in hearing your health problems."

Just then, the door opened and one of the men came in with an iPad in his hand. He handed it to Vega.

"Is this correct?" Vega asked without looking at him, as he checked the screen.

"We have verified it twice," the man replied. "Even our informant has corroborated the information."

Vega nodded, casting a brief glance at Alonzo. He felt the muscles in his body tense immediately, fearing the worst.

"However..." the man leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Alonzo could not hear anything, but the feeling of danger intensified. The hair on his skin stood on end at the expectation of whatever they were telling him.

"Understood. Make the preparations, we'll meet in a few minutes," Vega ordered, and the man nodded before leaving the room.

Vega stood up again, directing a penetrating gaze towards Alonzo. His face still showed traces of vomit, something that Vega found repulsive. He couldn't believe that this same man, who now looked so vulnerable, was the same one who, that night, moaned with pleasure in the dark.

He still remembered his voice begging for more. His gasps, the movement of his body as he arched, mounted on his lap, thrusting his hips to make the thrusts deeper. Since then, he had not stopped thinking about him, about the way his body moved up and down, and how that night had been etched in his memory. However, now the suspicion that everything had been a trap, possibly orchestrated by Interpol or some enemy, tormented him.

"You will stay here," Vega said in a firm tone. "You will not leave until we have cleared all doubts about you."

Alonzo nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and fear. On the one hand, he was grateful that he had not been killed at that moment. But on the other hand, he was still a prisoner, and he doubted that anyone would bother to rescue someone as insignificant as him.

Vega approached and untied the ropes that kept Alonzo's feet and hands tied. He helped him to his feet, but after so long immobilized, his legs did not respond. His body swayed and he was about to fall on his own vomit, but Vega held him firmly by the waist.

"Be more careful," he said, in a tone that barely concealed his impatience.

Alonzo nodded weakly, and, still nervous, began to walk with difficulty. Both left the room, finding a long, damp and windowless corridor. Vega looked at one of his men, who was stationed next to the door.

"Clean up that mess," he ordered coldly.

Alonzo was led down the corridor and then up a metal staircase whose echo resonated throughout the structure, like a constant reminder that there was no escape possible. When they reached the top, Vega entered a code on the security panel and the door opened with a soft click.

The contrast was overwhelming. They had gone from a gloomy basement to an impressive mansion, flooded with natural light, with huge windows and a spectacular night view. Alonzo was amazed at the architecture of the place, unable to avoid thinking about how many of his clients would have fought for a property like that.

"What are you looking at?" Vega's cold voice brought him back to reality. He remembered with a start that he was not there to sell the house, but as a hostage.

"Nothing," he replied quickly, trying not to look too impressed.

Vega narrowed his eyes, noticing Alonzo's discomfort, and pushed him hard in the back.

"Don't even think about escaping," he warned him. "Every window is sealed and the glass is bulletproof. You have no escape, Alonzo."

Alonzo swallowed hard, feeling the fear freezing his blood. He took a few more steps, but soon a dizziness invaded him. His vision began to blur, his legs weakened, and, before he could avoid it, he fainted, falling for the second time that night.

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