𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 | 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐎𝐧𝐞 | ✓

Chapter 52

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘕𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘋𝘢𝘺...

Marcello was laying in bed having breakfast when the door opened and slammed against the wall, almost breaking off the hinges. Zorro marched in and slammed it shut making Marcello flinch. He studied the man's expression and if furious was a person, it would, without a single doubt, be him.

“What happened to you?” he asked, chewing on the bacon, eggs and pancake in his mouth.

Zorro paced up and down the room angrily. Balling his fists, flaring his nostrils, furrowing his brows – his eyes were bloodshot. “I can't believe it. No. It has to be a joke. It must be a joke.”

He stopped moving and looked at Marcello who was watching him with worried eyes. For the last few weeks, he and Marcello had spent quite a lot of time together and he had grown fond of him. But today, when he looked at him all he saw was hate and disgust.

“Zorian, what's the matter?” MC asked softly.

“Your Godfather k!lled one of my brothers. His headless body was left out in a cornfield as a scarecrow.” he clenched his jaw tightly. “And you know what that means, Marcello.”

His heart dropped. “Zorro, think of what you're going to do.”

“He k!lled my brother and humiliated the Cartel,” tears forced their way out his eyes and wet his cheeks. He brought out a knife as he approached Marcello predatoriously. “You have to d** now.”

“But...but I'm not one of them,” he said calmly.

“What the hell do you mean? You're a Raven!” he stabbed the mattress next to him making Marcello flinch and spill the breakfast. The hot tea soaked his thigh making his scream in pain.

“No! I'm not! After that night, I-I left the Gang. I don't want to be in the Mafia anymore. I just wanna live and be happy. I left the gang I swear!” the hot tea seemed through the bandaids and ruptured his barely healed injuries causing him to wince. “Zorro, please, don't do this. Y-you're not thinking straight.”

“After our wealthy father left Zamora and I in Cuba, we were adopted by ab*sers. We ran away from home and grew up on the streets. I ate a piece of poisoned bread from a trashcan one day, Zam sold himself in order to afford medicine for me. That was when we were fourteen years old. Traffickers even found him and sold him into the black market where he was sold to a Russian billionaire to be his bride. I-I never saw my brother again until he was seventeen,” Zorro crawled onto the bed, his eyes murderous. “When he came back it was during a war between The Ravens and  The Doves, that's when El Diablo found us and brought us to our rightful home. Have you any idea of how devastated I am by this damn news?”

“I hear you, Zo, and I understand. I can't begin to imagine what you must be going through on the inside, but, will k!lling me bring him back?” MC mirrored his emotions and began shedding tears. “If taking my laugh means he'll come back, then I will let you do it. Take my life. It's meaningless anyway. I have no family, no friends, and no lover. So do it, please, k!ll me. If that makes you happy.”

Zorro stared at him with trembling lips, the knife in his hand almost breaking from how hard he was gripping it. In the end, he collapsed on the bed and broke down into endless sobs. “They... They k!lled him in cold-blood. The took my brother's life. Bastards. I'm gonna k!ll them all!”

As he released his pent up emotions, Marcello was there consoling him every second throughout it. After the night Zorro saved him, he knew he no longer belonged to the Ravens. He belonged to no one. He was done with the Mafia and they unfair wickedness. And the more he spent time with Zorro, a man from the opposing Mafia group, he grows fond of him, too.