The Mafia Sacrifice

37

Starr Marie

"What do you mean?" I question Damon. He has known about this drive and he failed to tell me? I know it's selfish because I wasn't going to say anything... but it has all my history. And everything to do with me."Why are you questioning me like that?"

"This drive have information that could fucking help us. Why the hell do you have this? How do you have it? Chris is supposed to be looking for this," He says more as questions than statements.

"I can't tell you how. You're not even supposed to be seeing this. And how do you even know about it?" I respond confusingly. He hated confrontation as well as I did.

Again. How selfish and stupid of me to reflect that onto him.

He looks at the flash drive in his hands. "Chris told me about it today?" I sigh at the relief of him not knowing about it longer than I. He looks at my bag again. "Where were you going?"

I look at the ground, trying to hide the fact that I know more history than just 2 hours before. It made me wonder if he knew.

I wanted to know if he was aware of the history behind it all.

Changing the subject I bring up our dads past.  I assume that if he knew... then I should know too."I assume you are aware that our dad's used to be friends?" He didn't react in any way.  "Does your dad hate mine because he slept with your dads mistress?" His emotionless face shifts to anger within seconds.

"You don't know shit," He yells angrily. "Don't ever speak of my father. He's a piece of shit just like your fücking traitor ass dad." I jump at the echoing of his voice.

"Damon I—," He cuts me off.

"Why the fuck do you think you have the voice or potential power to speak to me like that or at all?" He takes a step forward. "You're a fücking Russi. I'd love for you to stay in your fücking place and act like one." He closes the space between us. I watch as that once cold look return into his eyes. "Don't think for one second that if we fuck... then you are important— to me, your mommy, and your little daddy. I can gladly assume you that you are far from that."

"Stay in my place?" I question him. "Yesterday you were telling all your killer-fucking-assassins that I had just about that. So what's the fucking problem today?" I question him.

"Perhaps if I say you and your fucked up family— or is that two forward for you?" He takes a easy step back with a frustrated smirk in his lips.

What?

I felt anger top over the hurt I was feeling.

I know what I just did was selfish but... I didn't expect his words to hurt me. It was mean and upsetting— that I decided to turn that hurt into anger.

"You have no right to shit on me like that," I walk into his direction pointing back at him. "All this fucked up shit started happening to me when I was sent here to marry you. I didn't even like you in the beginning. You're a fucking criminal, torturer, killer, liar, and you don't fücking respect people at all," I'm now standing in front of him. "You don't have the right to tell me shit. You of all people should know how I'm feeling but you're being fucking biased right now. And the fact that you have the audacity to come at me like that when you knew what happened between our parents.... You're in the fucking wrong for not telling me," I pause looking at him. "If I would have known I would've fucking did something about it but that's just another thing you didn't tell me."

"If speaking the truth was a option, I'd like to say I was not aware that he was your father until you brought up Antonio," His Italian accent lingers in the air.