𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺.
The woman of impeccable beauty was the infinite definition of her name. Calm and poise.
Born into a violent life of guns and knives, you would assume a Mafia Princess like her would be training and preparing to be the next heir...
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There have only been three times in my life where I've seen murder with my own eyes.
The first time was when I was nine years old. My parents guarded me away from this world, holding my innocence for as long as they could. Although, you cannot do anything about fate.
We were travelling back from Italy and over to New York, unfortunately from where our private jet had landed, there were some people waiting for us on the tarmac.
Fortunately, my father was who he was, and my mother, who was also very skilled, had evaded all bullets and immediately went to fight the people off.
My Uncle Nicolo had sheltered me back into the jet but it didn't keep my tear-streaked gaze from catching the bloodshed they had caused. Briefly, the one human I saw lifeless was a man who had his neck sliced open, by none other than my mother.
Days went by and I hadn't spoken a word to them, purely out of terror. Being as innocent as I was, they're—our lifestyle was still confusing to me. But I learnt quickly from that day that we were dangerous people with even more dangerous enemies.
Papà had explained to me what they did probably in the most brutal-less way possible. He used phrases such as "missions" or "protecting you from harm" to make it less evil.
Growing up, the reality of it was shown through not-so-kind eyes.
This now leaves me to the second time I had witnessed a murder.
There was a time when I was introduced to the life of Alias Day, my ex-boyfriend. I wanted to see what he did, whom he fought, how he earned money and the privilege to live off of it.
Suburban streets, broken down houses on lower hills of the town, all of which consisted of insane drug addicts and gunshots filling the emptiness behind every broken apartment door.
As some would say cliche, an abandoned building was where all of his bets were made.
Vaguely, I recall seventeen-year-old me sitting horrified, surrounded by all of these overgrown men and beautiful women with prominent muscles and colourful tattoos, all of whom looked as if they'd knock me out for looking at them the wrong way.
Alias had made sure that I was safe. He had the guards who surrounded the ring keeping an eye on me and the people around me, and I was safe as far as being around a few women who spoke a handful of words about the men who would be fighting.
Describing Alias as being ruthless. Untameable in the ring.
I hadn't believed that my kind and quiet Alias had lived up to these names. Yet, I was to find out.
And then I did.
When the first round occurred, Alias seemed to be taking it easy. He didn't hold back nor did he fight too hard, allowing specks of his soft features to be marked with blood and mostly upcoming bruises.
