𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 | VMINKOOK

Camp Corleone

The boat ride to Italy had always been absolute hell for me.

The universe gifted me with a soul-devouring case of motion-sickness, which meant that I was forced to lie down horizontally for the entirety of the 10 day journey, and I could hardly eat anything during that time.

I truly was not made to cross oceans.

I usually arrived in Italy feeling malnourished, dehydrated and sickly, but the sunny weather and the relaxed atmosphere of the country made up for the discomfort in some ways.

"Capo!" My companion Anthony yelled upon my arrival at the docks, already waving at me from half a mile away.

The sun was high up in the sky, and the sight of the olive trees and maritime pines warmed my heart even further.

Anthony was Alcalmo's son, and one of the most hyper people I'd ever met. He wasn't a friend of mine, because father told me never to fully trust Alcalmo, but he was the one member of the family I was closest to. At fourteen years old, he was also the youngest member in training, right after me.

"Anthony, it's good to see you," I said once I finally made it off the boat, greeting the younger boy with a tight hug.

"I'm so happy you came earlier! You can't leave me alone with those Italian pure-bloods!" Anthony cried dramatically, throwing his arm over my shoulder as we made for our limousine.

Anthony wasn't fully Italian either, just like me. His mother was American, but because no one could really tell if they didn't check his DNA, it never became a problem for him with the other mafia kids.

"Hey, I've been hearing the craziest rumors about you! I even saw you in the papers once! Your father got you a mansion!? Tell me how, I want one too! Tell me, tell me!"

"Ah, Anthony," I sighed, grabbing to my head as I was still a bit dizzy. "It's none of your concern, okay? Your father is the second richest man in America, I'm pretty sure he would give you one if you weren't still a baby."

"Fourteen is not a baby!" Anthony yelled. "I'm growing a moustache, but it doesn't show because I'm a redhead."

"Hm, right," I said, diving into our limousine after handing my suitcases to the driver. "I'm sure that's it."

_____________

"They're having a meeting," Anthony said after the both of us entered my father's extravagant, pure-white villa. It looked like something straight out of a magazine, and it didn't have a shred of personality to it. My father wasn't one to pay much mind to interior architecture. The only thing he cared about was wether the place looked expensive, and expensive it did look.

"Pretty soon you'll be having those meetings... isn't that exciting!?" Anthony asked, zooming into the livingroom like a bumblebee.

I sighed and threw my suitcase on the couch, loosening my tie as the heat was already getting to me. "Very."

Anthony skipped through the room and touched anything that caught his attention. He still saw the world he was about to enter as something fun and exciting, which often pained me to see. He hadn't witnessed a single murder yet, but I knew it wouldn't be long before his first one.

"Father won't let me learn the piano, even though I begged," Anthony sulked, messing around with the white grand piano in the corner of the room.

I knew asking the boy to sit down and be quiet wouldn't work, but at least the he did well at distracting me from my self-pity. If I kept myself alone with my thoughts, I would only be thinking of one person until school started. "The uniforms..." I began, squinting my eyes. "Don't tell me they are still yellow."