"You're insufferable."
"Maybe," he says softly, "but you still can't keep your eyes off me."
"Maybe I don't want to."
♥___________♥
𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢
Playboy, arrogant, and egoistic-sounds like a typical jerk, right? But there's more to Marco th...
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"Come here, boy. Don't hide from us," a voice taunts in a sing-song tone. I press myself against the back of the closet, trying to disappear.
My heart pounds so loudly I'm sure they'll hear it. I can hear my breathing; I just hope they can't.
"Marco, we know you're here," the voice continues, feeling closer now. "There's no use hiding."
I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping they'll pass by. Tears well up as the closet walls seem to close in on me. My fingers clutch my clothes, trying to feel something, anything, to calm myself. The door handle rattles, and I bite my lip to keep from screaming.
The door creaks open. I hold my breath, every muscle in my body tensed, ready to run.
"Found you," the voice hisses.
A rough hand grabs my arm, yanking me out of the closet. I thrash and struggle, but it's no use. He's too strong.
The man looks at me, his face too close to mine. His breath smells of cigarettes and alcohol. Had he been drinking again?
I need to find a way out, but I'm too terrified to think clearly. I'm too terrified to breathe properly. I know I can't do anything because I'm just a kid and they're huge compared to me. So I just stare, paralyzed.
"You're not going anywhere, boy," he growls. I whimper, my body trembling as he drags me by the arm, painfully.
"Look at him, crying like a little baby," The woman taunts
"Real men don't cry, Marco, right?" the man sneers. I just nod, terrified, my throat too tight to speak.
"That's right," he says, his grip tightening. "Real men don't cry. They face their fears." His brings his face close to me, his breath reeking of cigarettes and alcohol.
"Get him here. Let me teach him a lesson," the woman suggests.
"No, please," I finally manage to croak, but it's too late.
The woman reaches for my pants, and I scream, but she shoves a cloth into my mouth. "You are going to take it, and you are going to enjoy it, boy, unless you want him to do it instead?"
I shake my head frantically, tears streaming down my face. My heart races, and I feel like I might pass out. The man's grip tightens, and I feel completely helpless, not being able to do anything against the two of them.
"That's better," she sneers, "Be a good boy for me now."
I wake up, gasping, drenched in sweat. The room is dark, and for a moment, I'm disoriented, the nightmare lingering in my mind. My heart is pounding, and I can still feel the their hands on me. I sit up, running a trembling hand through my hair, trying to steady my breathing.
I glance at the clock
3 a.m.
I know I won't be able to fall back asleep. Salem stirred beside me, her soft meow breaking the silence. I reached out and stroked her fur gently.
"Sorry, baby," I whisper, my voice still shaky from the dream. Salem nips at my skin, blinks, and then goes back to sleep in her cozy spot on the bed.
I shake my head, "Ragazza matta."
(Crazy girl)
I sat up slowly and with a sigh, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and padded quietly to the door. I tiptoed through the hallway, the floor creaking making me wince.
That floor did not make that sound yesterday.
As I was walking, I noticed that the door to my father's study was opened. I went over there and my eyes scanned the shelves lined with books. My fingers trailed along the spines, Then, a title caught my eye: "The History of Mafias."
Before I could ponder further, I heard footsteps approaching. Panic surged through me, and I darte behind a heavy velvet curtain, barely concealed from view. The study door swings open, and my father's voice fills the room.
"What do you want? It's the middle of the night."
I can hear him pacing back and forth, the sound of his footsteps mingling with the rustling of papers.
"I told you to handle it discreetly," he says, clearly talking on the phone. "This is not the time to make mistakes."
My heart races as I try to remain perfectly still. I can see my father through a small gap in the curtain. His face is tense, eyes narrowed as he listens to the person on the other end of the line.
"Just make sure it's done," he continues, "I don't care how. We can't afford any loose ends."
He ends the call abruptly, shoving his phone into his pocket. I can hear him muttering to himself, cursing under his breath. He starts to move toward the bookshelf, and I hold my breath, praying he doesn't notice me.
After a moment, he turns and leaves the study, closing the door behind him. I exhale slowly, my body trembling from the adrenaline. I wait a few more seconds to make sure he's gone before stepping out from behind the curtain.
I slip the book into my pocket and got back to my room without being noticed.
As I sneak back through the hallway, Salem stirs again, her eyes watching me curiously. I pet her gently, trying to calm my racing heart.
Ignoring the nagging voice at the back of my head, I place the book on my shelf and crawl back into bed. Sleep doesn't come easily, but one thought lingers in my mind.
My dad did something. It may not be murder, but he fucked up and is trying to hide it. I was going to find out what it was.
No matter what.
***
Entry #14
"You've seen this before?" Ethan asked, sliding the photograph across the table.
Rebecca nodded, her brows furrowing. "It's a symbol used by an old crime family, the Verdi Clan. They were completely destroyed by the Italian mafia years ago."
Rebecca continued, "The Verdi Clan was known for their ruthlessness and cunning. If you found that, it means someone survived and is seeking revenge."
Ethan's mind raced. "So, if this symbol was found at a murder scene, it means the Verdi Clan is trying to make a comeback?"
Rebecca nodded.
"You need to be careful. If the Verdi Clan finds out you're onto them, they'll destroy you too."
I smiled grimly. "Then let's make sure I find them first."
