𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐧.
ꙬꙬꙬꙬ
All that Yara Morello was told all her life was that she was the shame of the family. She was a mistake that was never supposed to happen, a disgrace to be shunned and cast...
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"Per favore, spare me." (Please)
In the dimly lit, cold room, I took a slow, deliberate drag from my cigarette, the embers glowing brightly as I inhaled deeply. With each exhale, wisps of smoke danced in the air, swirling around me like a shroud of darkness. The only sounds that pierced the eerie silence were the pathetic whimpers of the man before me and the crackling of the fire beside him, casting flickering shadows across his anguished face.
"You know very well that begging is completely useless. You're going to lose your life," Luca remarked, his voice cold and devoid of empathy as he joined me by my side.
Luca's words were true. No man who entered my cellar ever left with their life or limbs intact. Killing was my specialty, my purpose—instilling fear in the hearts and minds of men. I brought death for those unfortunate enough to cross my path.
I didn't believe in second chances. Thinking that a person can change is the same as thinking a zebra can change its stripes. It was and is always a complete waste of time. However, one percent out of hundred is an anomaly, a deviation that a person could change. The trick however is that it is impossible to predict, hence why I never take chances.
I rolled the switchblade in my other hand with practiced precision, feeling the familiar weight and sharpness of the blade against my skin. The mere touch of it brought a sense of comfort, as I envisioned the myriad of possibilities it offered for carving intricate patterns on the man's body.
I rose from the leather chair I'd been sitting in and strolled towards him, feeling a sense of satisfaction as he cowered. But there was only so much a chained up, battered man hanging stark naked from the ceiling could do.
"Most bastards in this mafia are trash, but there's one rule we never break," I drawled lazily, as I pressed the glowing end of my half-smoked cigarette into his left eye. His agonized screams echoed through the room, but I showed no mercy, grinding the burning ember deeper into his skin.
"On recruit day, we make damn sure to drill into your fucking thick skulls that women and children are off limits," I toss the cigarette into the fire, watching callously as he cried out in agony.
"I was high, Capo. I swear, I'd never do that in my right mind. I don't know what came over me. I'll never even look at a woman again. Please, don't kill me," he pleaded, his words causing agitation to churn within me.
The mafia had tons of whores who didn't mind getting fucked without a dime. Yet this fucker went out of his way to defile a sixteen year old. One thing I could never tolerate was pedophiles, worse when it's my own men.
"If I recall correctly, you do have a teenage daughter, don't you?" Luca asked with a sly grin. "She would be a nice addition to the brothels once she turns eighteen.
Immediate dread washed over his face. "Not my Anne, please leave her out of this."
While I didn't particularly care about this bastard's spawn, it was ironic to see him being protective over his daughter after the shit he just did.
