𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐥𝐢𝐣𝐚𝐡 ✔️ | 18+

𝐓 𝐇 𝐑 𝐄 𝐄

A/N: All the Italian translations came from Google Translate.
*NOT EDITED*

———————————————————————
*Elijah*

"Che cazzo vuoi dire! Pensi che io abbia il fottuto tempo di fare da babysitter all'America come se fosse un fottuto ragazzino. Non sono il capo di questa fottuta mafia perché faccio da babysitter!?" I yelled slamming my fist down on the table. I glared at the men before me. For them to think that me, a don of the fucking Italian Mafia, was going to babysit America, FOR WHAT!?
(What the fuck do you mean! You think I have the fucking time to babysit America likes he's some fucking kid. I am not the leader of this mafia because I babysit)

I took my gun out from my holster and set it on the table with an emotionless face. Watching people squirm under my gaze was satisfying. To see the fear in their eyes knowing they could die a harsh death was pleasing. "Do you really think," I spat. "That a don of the Italian Mafia is going to go to the Americas for the mere sake of a RUMOR!? I did not make it here listening to idiotic people WHO HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT-"

"Boss-" with that I picked up the gun, cocked it back and shot him between the eyes. "Get someone else to do your fucking dirty work, sporchi maiali del cazzo. As a matter of fact, why the fuck are you ordering me? Huh? Do you not fear your lives? Do you wish to have the same fate as the man that so much as interrupted my one syllable? Or have you thought that those stories were so much as - myth people talked about to have you fear me?" I chuckle. I made my voice a mere whisper and leaned in.

(Dirty fucking pigs).

"Those stories that were told, were told by witnesses that I let live. DO YOU HEAR ME? I control every simple second you live. Every step you walk, and every breath you take. Those same stories that you have heard, killing everything and everyone in my way. Of taking them and torturing them in ways you cannot fathom. Do you you really think I would allow you, to demand me of something when I could simply say the word, and you be dead in a matter of 3 seconds. All of you." I laugh humorlessly. "Do you wish to have the same fate?" I smirk. "Let me hear one more order," I spat. "One more command or demand coming from your mouths and I will cut off your all your tongues and feed it to you. I let you live for a reason. Don't let it be just so you could die by my hands." I take my gun and start walking towards the exit.

"Make sure to have the car out front by the time I make there." I gritted out. But I remembered that my pride isn't important. "And make sure to tell him to take me to the airport." I sigh.
———————————-————————————
My name is Elijah Moretti. Everything in my life goes wrong, and I burn everything I touch. Growing up in the mafia was hard. Imagine taking someone's life at the age of 4. I remember the first time I took someone's life. The man was someone who had stolen from my father. "He took what was mine, figlio. (son) He stole from me. He doesn't deserve his life so shoot him." I remember I hesitated, tears coming out my eyes. I turned my head begging my mother with my eyes to make it stop. Yet, she broke my gaze with her own tears. "SHOOT HIM YOU FUCKING COWARD! SHOOT!" And  I pulled the trigger. Seeing a lifeless body was trauma of its own, but...

Learning how to fight at the age of 10. Beginning to know the strategies and all that business shit at 16. But the mafia is the only family I have. My parents were always there and we had a good connection. My father was strict with the mafia, I barely saw him, and yet he was there for everything important in my life.

If I only I hadn't...

My second in command, my best friend, my brother from another mother, is no other than Luca Ricci. We've been through shit together and he was the only one there for me since what happened years ago. He really is the only one I can tolerate. But he can still be a pain in the ass. Lucas mother is my mother's best friend. I'm 3 years older than him, so I was there when he was born. I remember my mother use to bring me to their house before Luca was even born. His mother would always cry to my mother saying she's scared.