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TEN MONTHS LATER | NEW YORK
HOW long can it possibly fucking take to kill someone? I didn't know mentoring in assassination could be this boring.
I'd rather kick rocks in the comfort of my penthouse in Monaco than lay on my stomach on a fucking rooftop, watching my newest brother (because apparently, they're just hiding in holes all over the world - they being Dean Kory or Santino, whatever the fuck he is) through the scope of my sniper rifle.
From across the street, I can see the cheeky grin on his face as a woman dressed less than modestly dances on his lap. Of course, this is what happens when I send him in to do the dirty work - he gets distracted. He starts giving in to whatever his target has to offer, often a ruse to put off the whole dying miserably thing.
See, I'd have no problem with Dean enjoying himself. Except he's enjoying himself with a woman who was paid to be there by a man who needs to be putting that money to better use. Also known as paying the Santino family back.
Semantics.
I don't even have to look through the scope to know that his face is buried deep in the valley of this woman's breasts. Hm. Adriano was right; he is like me a little bit.
I shift my sights, pivoting my vision to the man seated in the armchair right across from him. He's middle-aged, about a year or three older than Domenico, but he's aged the way a grape in the sun has pruned. Must be all the deceit and running all over the continent, constantly looking over his shoulder.
He was one of our weapons dealers until he got greedy, and tried to steal from us before almost falling off the face of the earth about four years ago. Honestly, we hadn't planned to do anything about him, but he'd made an appearance after a meeting with the other families we have connections with. Of course, Dean and I were spending quality family time together so what else could I do but bring him along on a bonding trip and hand him the reins?
Except now he's crashing the fucking horse and it's going to be up to big brother Angel to get everything back on track.
With that, I tighten my hand around the pistol grip and line up my aim, the target map in my scope lining up with the crease in between his eyes. I don't have to hear Dean's annoying ass voice to know that he's talking about something insanely nonsensical to the point it makes sense.
I might be feeling a bit too trigger-happy but when I actually pull it, I couldn't feel more annoyed at how quickly it went by. Especially when Dean looks out the window with wide eyes and the girl on his lap runs away. He spares another glance at the man bleeding from the forehead on the ground before returning his gaze to me.
