15 years old
My father kicked me off my feet, making me land on my back with a loud thud."Devi fare di meglio figliolo," he yelled at me telling me to get back up. (You gotta do better than that son.)
I got back on my feet and into position as he landed another hard punch to my side, making his skull ring dig into my skin. This time, I took the distraction to land one on his right side, making him stumble back a couple feet. He gave me a proud look, but then went serious as he told me I could do better.
I'd been training for a year already and learned quickly that I beat every single one of my cousins every time we sparred or did anything else for that matter. They became too easy which was why I had to spar and train with my father now since he actually was a challenge.
Other than Luca.
Luca was the same as me skill-wise and even though I was a little smarter with my decisions, he was right there beside me learning fast and quickly too.
Just as my father was about to land another punch on me, the gym doors opened roughly. Luca walked in running his hand through his hair looking pissed off. My father stopped and looked at him, sweat covering his body as he took in his cousin as well.
"What's up with you?" he asked him.
"I wanna fight," he said picking up a wrap for his hands.
My father shrugged, walking off the mat. He knew Luca had a temper, but he let him handle it in his own way. The doors opened again and I turned, seeing my mother walk in wearing a long red dress with her hair pinned up and her makeup done. Her brown eyes were looking at my father with a glare.
My father looked at her, his eyes softening as he took her in ignoring the fact that she was clearly mad at him because they were going to be late to the party.
"Faremo tardi Francesco, te l'avevo detto di non fare tardi," my mother yelled at him as he made his way over to her. (We are going to be late Francesco, I told you not to be late.)
Luca stepped up on the mat in front of me as my father apologized to her telling her that they weren't late, people were just early.
My father was a scary man. He was always hard on me and he'd killed many, many people, but when it came to my mother, he was the most gentle version of himself with her.
They left the gym, my father telling me he wanted me prepared for tomorrow because I was going to attend meetings with him and help him with some things. I wasn't sure what exactly, but I was always prepared if I had to kill somebody.
My first kill was when I was thirteen. My father took me to the restaurant and things got a little messy. He handed me a gun and said it was better to do it now than later. Ever since then, holding a gun in my hands became a natural thing, something I needed to be perfectly skilled at since I was gonna take my father's place someday.
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Romance𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 DARK ROMANCE "Fuck. You." I watched as the brown in his eyes darkened and he clenched his jaw. He stared at me for what felt like minutes and before I knew it, he had my back pressed against the wa...