Mafia's Art [COMPLETED]

39: Progress

"We have to find him!" He says. Tugging on his hair and pacing up and down the lounge room.

"Well, I'm sorry but you pacing around won't solve anything. Your men need to work harder, faster. This is going too slow, there's no progress. I think it's time you foresee everything yourself, make an example. Maybe there's a mole." Charlene says sitting on the large couch with the rest of the family, watching her fiance pace around the room.

It's been a week since they've been in Italy. Nothing has happened, no progress. All their leads point to a dead end.  Things don't add up and Santino's getting impatient, everyone is. The only thing keeping him sane, being her.

"We-"

*ring, *ring-

"Pronto?" [Hello?]
Martina scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"You could just come for my son instead of giving empty threats Orazio. We're not afraid of you."
With that she ended the call.

"What'd he say mamma?"

"Don't waste time. That's all."

..

"Il capo, giuro che non sono io!! I SWEAR- Ahhhh!" [Boss, I swear it's not me!!] The man shouts as Santino cuts off his toe.

"You disrespect me. All of you, is it because I treat you all like family? I want you all to remember that under my rule we were able to overthrow the American mafia. I grew this mafia and led it to greatness. All by eliminating assholes and moles, like you. I will kill your mom, your wife, your children, damn even your dog. I'll do it all with you watching and then feed you to my friends in New Zealand, they're cannibals. You better speak."

Charlene's POV

Santino continued torturing the man and a few more. I saw him, the mafia Don. I hate to admit it but, he was different... heartless. But this is the man I love and I have to understand that this is what he's made for. He will do anything to protect his family.

Even if he has to become a monster. Infusing fear in everyone, the monster we all were told about in our childhood. The one that dwells in the shadow and drinks blood. The monster that never sleeps, that hides under our bed. The one that robs us of our sight and hearing, leaving us stranded in a desert of fear. The hunter of men, he brings them to tears and down on their knees. My monster.

The monster that makes me feel warm at night. The monster that sleeps with me, he feeds me and satisfied all my needs. To me, he is an angel. He adorns me. He is mine.

At some point I left the warehouse, his orders. He asked that I leave as not to witness the rest.

So here I am, at home, in the kitchen and I'm sitting in the dark. Everyone else is asleep, it's already twelve in the evening and he still isn't home. He's crazy, that I can tell you.

I hear footsteps and someone breathing heavily, I know it's him.

"Babe it's me don't shoot." I say, haulting my movements with my hands up. He drops his gun and I turn to switch the lights on.

"Don't, don't turn them on. I don't want you to see me." What?

I walk towards him slowly, but he backs away. I can't see him clearly, but with the little light granted from the moon I can make out a few things. He's got blood all over him, like he swem in it. He looks worn out, weak, exhausted. Nothing more, nothing less.

I approach him once more, he backs up. I approach him some more and he backs up and backs up, only stopping when hitting the wall. I raise my hand, trying to touch him and he holds my hands halfway. I look at him and his partialy bloody face, I love him nonetheless. I bring my face in and try to kiss him, but he looks away pushing me backwards softly. Tears resting on the edge of his green eyes.

"I'm a monster." He whispers.

"No. No my love, not you. Never." I bring my hand up to his face, so as to remove the wet, damp hair sticking to his forehead. He flinches.

I take a deep breath, I will not be tolerating this. I close the space between us, pressing my body against his bloody one. He can't hurt me, I know that. He likes my warmth, that's his weakness.

I grab both his hands in mine and tug harshly on them, causing his head to look in my direction. Yes. I put my forehead on his. "Mine!" I whisper, closing my eyes. "All mine."

I pull him with me and start walking the direction of our bedroom. He follows me, slow, like a scared little child. I lead him up the stairs, still holding hands and into our bedroom we go.

I leave him leaning on the vanity, lighting up some candles. I lead us to the shower, our clothes still on. I let the blood wash away, just enough and turn it off.

I pour some warm water in the pool-like bathtub. Adding roses, bathsalt, coconut milk and vanilla oil, I let it fill to the brim. Turning to him, he shies his face away, but I grab his chin and make him look into my eyes. Kissing him harshly, with assurance. I'm not going anywhere.

I peel off the wet, blood-dyed clothes from his body, leaving him naked and doing the same to myself. I grab him and lead him to the tub. After he gets in I slowly follow, sitting opposite him, facing him.

"I love you." I whisper to him. We stay quiet and I sigh. Approaching him, I squirt some body shampoo on the sponge and bathe him. Silent.

After a while, I dryed him, lotioned him, clothed him and lead him to bed.

He's now sleeping like a baby. He really is tired. Are the things he did so bad? He thinks I will just reject him? How could I? I am bound to him. He cast a spell on me. Like I said, he is my monster.