Book three of the only series
They gave her one mission. They told her to find the Chicago mob Capo and get revenge. So they sent her away. She had a plan. A mindset. Goals she needed to reach.
Until she met his son.
He was supposed to be the en...
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13 years old...
The thick layers of white covering the grass and concrete blinded me as we walked, footprints carving a path to the hole that was dug in a shape of a square and six feet deep. Chairs were lined up, facing the picture they had of my mother and next to her casket.
Where she lay dead.
Not breathing.
Not here.
Where was she then? I couldn't picture my mother anywhere but here trying to make the world a better place while married to a man that only made it worse.
What would she look like when I went up there and saw her lying there with no smile on her face? Would she look dead or like the mother that raised me?
"Alessio."
The sharp tongue of my fathers voice pulled me out of my thoughts, the ones I kept getting lost in. The ones that took me deep down that sometimes I didn't know where I was or where I was walking to. I looked up at him.
Into the gray eyes that were the same shade as mine. There was nothing in my fathers eyes that showed he was grieving though. They looked like they always did, angry and filled with nothing but darkness it was hard to look at him at times. He made you feel as if you weren't looking at a human.
He had always told me it was because of his role as Capo of the Chicago mob. That he needed to show people his mercilessness, that he needed to show his power. He told me that someday I would need to show that too. I was his son, he said, Bertelli's don't show weakness.
"Drop that look from your face, son. There are people around," my father whispered harshly to me. He grabbed my arm and shoved me forward a step.
"Now go pay your respects to your mother."
The weight on my shoulders only worsened. I didn't move any further, afraid of what I would see. My aunts were walking away from her casket now, both of their faces filled with tears as they sobbed for the woman they rarely spoke to.
I put my hands in the pockets of my suit, gaining control of my emotions. I was angry and....
I couldn't describe the feeling. I knew it was something I shouldn't feel because I was becoming a made man soon. In one month I would be inducted into the mob officially. And made men weren't supposed to feel....
They weren't supposed to feel like they had a crack in their chest. Like it was carrying the weight of grief.
I wasn't supposed to feel sad.
Not for my mother because of made men didn't feel for women. For the ones they were supposed to protect. But my mother had always told me to feel different. I knew women were supposed to be protected. I knew I had the power to protect them, so I did. I protected my girl baby cousins. I protected all the women in my family even if I was only thirteen.
