“Jail isn’t enough for this brutto figlio di putanna,” he growled so harshly it must have hurt his throat. “He deserved to be killed slowly, death by a thousand fucking paper cuts. I’ll take his eyes and his balls, his fingernails, then each section of his fingers, knuckle by knuckle, finger by fucking finger. I’ll pour acid in his wounds until he can’t scream anymore, and then, because he won’t need it ever again, I’ll rip out his goddamn motherfucking throat.”
