Taken by the Mob Boss

Chapter 1 - Leo

Naples, Italy 2014

"No mercy" were the words that kept ringing in my head as I fired the shots. Those were Marco's words and when he said something, anything, I took it as a command, as did every other member of the family. Marco was our boss. He was the leader of the Aducci family and his words were meant to be followed, no questions asked.

My men and I had taken the guards by surprise. Marco had given us his orders and we followed them. We had launched an attack on a warehouse that was flimsily guarded by the men of the Romano family. They were hiding weapons, encroaching on our territory, and they needed to be wiped out.

We were six men to their three guards, with one man in a worn-out suit who we found inside the storage room. He must have been responsible for taking inventory because he had a pair of thick glasses covering his face and a file in his hands. He seemed to be taking notes, looking through the stock.

I shot him straight through his gut and now he was lying in a pool of his own blood on the ground. I walked over to him. When I checked, I saw that he wasn't even carrying a gun. What kind of weapons operation was this?

"All clear," one of my men said, returning back to where I was standing over the sputtering, quickly dying stock taker. I'd sent two of them out to scan the perimeter and make sure there weren't any other stragglers we should have taken care of. Apparently, there weren't.

If the Romanos were protecting a stockpile of weapons, like Marco said they were, then they were doing a pretty poor job of keeping them safe. They hadn't prepared themselves against any form of attack.

"Rip everything apart. We need to figure out just how much they have in storage." I gave my orders to the men who immediately got to work.

I stood over the man, who was mumbling something now. There was blood dripping from his mouth; he was still alive. I could see that he was trying to say something, clutching the puncture wound in his stomach where the bullet had gone through. I clenched my jaw and shot him straight in his head, put him out of his misery.

"No mercy." Marco's words rang in my head again and I gulped as I watched the man die.

"Leo! No weapons here," one of the men called out.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I crossed over the dead man's limp body to go to where the men were ripping apart the wooden crates.

They'd already opened up a couple of them, and as I approached, one of the men held up a plastic bag of toilet paper.

"What's this supposed to mean?" I growled and looked in the crate myself. There weren't just toilet paper in there, there were old clothes and diapers for babies, some thin blankets and tins of baked beans.

"What about the others?" I asked, looking around the storage room.

"Same here," one of the men said, sifting through the relief supplies in another crate.

"Yup, here too," a third one said.

"What the fuck," I murmured to myself. The Romanos weren't guarding a warehouse full of weapons, as Marco had told me, they were stockpiling supplies. Possibly for distribution amongst the underprivileged, and now four men were dead guarding this pile of shit.

"Wrap it up here, dispose of the bodies," I growled, turning away from the men. I tucked my gun back in my jeans and started walking out of the warehouse into the night air.

Four men were dead, most of them shot dead by me. For what? For guarding a warehouse full of supplies for the poor. I bit back a curse as I ran my hand through my hair. This wasn't the first time in the past year that I was questioning Marco's decisions. I knew I was supposed to trust him blindly; he had rescued me off the streets after my parents died, when I had no family and I was just a kid. Marco had welcomed me into his family with open arms. I was raised to carry out his orders no questions asked.