✔My Mafia Wife [Taennie Adaption]

48

"When did you begin to run this mafia?," I asked him. "Like how old were you?"

"I think I was 16," he began. "Fuck knows, so much shit has happened since. I lost track of fucking time."

"16's pretty young. At 16, I was trying to figure out how to straighten my hair without it getting frizzy from the top and you were looking after a whole fucking mafia."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Dad's a deadbeat. Mom couldn't handle it. Brother died. Sister got knocked up. I was the only one who wasn't fucked up."

He paused for a minute. "That was the past. But now, fuck," he let out a dry chuckle. "I'm more fucked up than all of them combined."

My face fell at that. "No, you're not. You've had a hard life and look you came out stronger because of it."

"I had to." He turned away from me. His shirtless body tensed as he gripped the dresser. He glared at the reflection he saw in the mirror. "Do you know what would've happened if I didn't? If I didn't become a fucking killing machine?" I stayed silent. "I would've ended up with Luca."My heart stopped. I glanced at him, watching his fists turn white.

I had no words to say. For once, my always talkative mouth had nothing to say. What could I say?

"I had to kill a family member once. My own fucking uncle. I loved him. He was fucking amazing," he paused, taking a deep breath. "But he stole from me. The mafia. If he just asked me for the fucking money, I could've lent him some. I was just 16. I hadn't taken over the mafia for long. People were questioning my ability to lead. I had to prove them wrong. I had to. I had people telling me what to do and how I needed to fucking do it. I knew I had to kill him. I fucking knew but they kept on bringing it up."

I walked towards him and put my hand on his forearm. He didn't seem to notice as he glowered at the reflection in the mirror. His own reflection.

"I fucking shot him!," he yelled as he punched the glass. I stumbled back. He didn't even flinch as his knuckles began to bleed. "I fucking shot my own blood. My fucking uncle. And that worst part was that I didn't even hesitate."

He continued yelling and shouting out profanities as he turned to face me. He was angry. I've seen him angry before but now, it seemed like he was furious. Murderous even. I took a step back as he stalked towards me. "I fucking killed him. Imagine what I could fucking do to you. Being with me, you're already dead," he spat out.I was already backed up against the wall with his arms caging me in. He gritted his teeth together before he punched the wall beside my head, making me flinch. I knew he wouldn't hurt me intentionally but it didn't stop the fear of it happening from creeping up.

His chest heaved up and down for a moment as he pulled himself out of his thoughts.

He seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in as he looked down in confusion. "It's okay," I said softly as I took one of his fists in mine.

"No it's not," he said breathily. "Fuck, I fucking scared you!" He moved away from me and ran a bloody hand through his hair.

Does that not hurt?

"You didn't."

"You thought I was gonna hurt you, didn't you?," he asked as he turned half his body to face me. I shook my head slowly.

"You don't scare me," I said firmly. I ignored the small voice I heard in my head screaming, 'it's gonna happen. I'm gonna die. It's gonna say death by angry boyfriend on my gravestone.'

We went towards the bathroom before I got out the first aid kit. He sat there silently as I worked on his knuckles, making sure there was no more glass in them."I'm giving you the chance to leave, now that you know everything," he said firmly.