Vitterio Rossi is a deadly, venomous man. He walks with the devil behind him, his tail between his legs and his head bowed.
Anyone in their right mind should be absolutely terrified to get even a glance from Vitterio.
Except Sorella De Luca, the Pri...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The second I walked into the Polish warehouse, my skin started crawling. I spat on the ground in the presence of the Polish guards and soldiers after they searched me, and looked around the room for an unusually shiny head that belonged to my boss.
After I found Alfonso, I sat myself in the chair next to him, directly diagonal from Polish mafia leader- Jakub Nowak. His Consigliere was late, so the chair was empty in front of me. I straightened my legs out in front of me and rolled a random piece of paper that I found in my pocket.
I heard a few guards mutter things under their breath, and I regretted not learning Polish amongst the seven other languages I knew. Alfonso was clearly fucking uncomfortable, coughing into his handkerchief every five seconds. The right hand man of the Polish mafia was ten minutes later, successfully wasting my fucking time.
But then the doors to the warehouse slid open with a rattle, and I didn't bother giving the man a glance. But I heard Alfonso's "Mother of God," and he made a cross on his chest, although I knew the man wasn't religious. Alfonso turned to me with wide eyes, and that's when I felt curiousity run along my spine.
But before I could turn, I felt a large hand curl around my shoulder, and somehow, I already knew who it was.
His touch alone, I knew him. I knew him better than I knew myself. My heart fell to my feet and he crushed it beneath his heel. My head felt thick and throbbing and I actually felt my blood go thick in my veins.
I looked up, hating that he stood above me. He would never be above me. I would never allow him to reign above me, that was my fucking spot.
I shrugged his hand off of my shoulder and stood on both my feet, successfully putting him slightly below me.
Zachary Rossi stared back at me though my father's eyes, and I felt my mouth fill with blood as I bit on my tongue, keeping everything I've been dying to tell him since my father's funeral no more than three years ago. I leaned to the side slightly and spat blood and spit on the floor for the second time today.
His hair was longer slightly, the ends dry and in need of conditioner. His top lip held a slightly pubescent mustache, and I gave him a scowl, one of disgust before I turned my back on my brother for the second time, and took my seat next to Don.
Alfonso cleared his throat and looked at me, and give me a slow, almost unnoticed nod.
"Shall we get started?" Alfonso said and cleared his throat. Jakub nodded once, and observed both me and Don for a second before he spoke, "You killed nineteen of my men in Ukraine,"
Which was the stupidest fucking thing Alfonso had ever done in his life. He walked into a bar which was very clearly out of his fucking jurisdiction, made clear by the "No Italians" sign that was put out front of the bar.
But Alfonso strutted his bald head in, and declared open fire. He killed nineteen soldiers that belonged to the Polish mafia, but he also killed thirty nine civilians. I guess no one gave a fuck about them.
