Fightclub

𖤓 bonus chapter | paperclip

Hello my beautiful bebs,

A year ago I started posting this story and I just wanted to take a moment to say how incredibly grateful I am for each and every one of you. Starting this journey was a bit nerve-wracking, but meeting and interacting with so many amazing people along the way has made it all worthwhile. Your support, kindness, and positivity have truly made this feel like a dream. Thank you for being here with me, for commenting your thoughts, and for loving the characters as much as I did. I'm excited to continue this journey together! 💖

I love you all my firecrackers!

Stay bright

✨️

Song: drive forever - ravens rock (guitar cover) (slowed+reverb)

Trigger warning: violence

Roman: age 23  𖤓 Ciro: age 23

The dimly lit bar hummed with the soft clatter of glasses and murmured conversations blending with the smoky jazz oozing from an old jukebox in the corner.

Roman sat at the bar, his broad shoulders relaxed but his blue eyes sharp, scanning the room with the instinctive wariness of someone who had spent the last six years at the top of the food chain. His tailored suit was immaculate, the epitome of controlled power, while beside him, Ciro lounged casually, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as he swirled the last of his drink in its glass.

"Do you ever take anything seriously?" Roman asked, his voice low and even. He didn't even glance at Ciro, who was busy folding and unfolding a paperclip between his fingers.

Ciro chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "What's the point of that? Life's more fun when you don't take it too seriously." He twisted the paperclip into a small, crude shape before straightening it out again, clearly more focused on his little project than anything happening around them.

Roman shook his head with a faint smile, but his attention sharpened as the door to the bar swung open. The sudden change in atmosphere was palpable. the low murmur of conversations dipped as a group of men walked in. Roman's hand instinctively moved closer to the inside of his jacket, brushing against the grip of his gun, though he didn't pull it out. Ciro, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice—or care. He was still playing with the paperclip, now bending it into a tight loop.

The leader of the group, a tall man with a face like a broken brick, locked eyes with Roman from across the room. He was the head of the Rossetti family, the Morelli family's most persistent thorn. His presence was a blatant provocation, a challenge that hung in the air like the smell of cheap whiskey. The Rossetti family had a vendetta with the Morelli family since the old Don's days. No one particularly liked Cillian Enzo Morelli, but Roman had enough of his vendettas following and crawling from every direction.

"Can you believe this guy?" Ciro muttered under his breath, a smirk dancing on his lips. He made no effort to lower his voice; if anything, he wanted the Rossetti asshole to hear.

"Don't start anything," Roman warned, though he knew better than to expect Ciro to back down from a challenge.

Ciro tilted his head, as if considering Roman's words, then shrugged. "I'm not gonna start anything. But if he gives me a reason..."

Roman sighed, taking a sip of his whiskey. "Just don't make a mess."

The Rossetti man swaggered over, his presence like a dark cloud looming over their corner of the bar. He stopped right in front of Roman and Ciro, his sneer a twisted parody of a smile.

"Well, well, if it isn't Roman Morelli and his little pet," the man spat, his voice loud enough to draw the attention of everyone nearby.

Roman Morelli became the Don of his father's mafia after he died six years ago. And with taking care of his younger siblings while also being the head of the top mafia he managed to do just fine.

Roman remained still, his expression unreadable, but there was an unmistakable tension in the air. Ciro, on the other hand, seemed completely unbothered. He twirled the paperclip between his fingers, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Careful, big guy," Ciro said lightly, his voice laced with dangerous amusement. "You're gonna hurt my feelings."

The Rossetti man snorted. "Or what? You think your boss is gonna save you? Or maybe you're the one who's gonna make me pay?" He leaned in, his breath reeking of cheap liquor.

Ciro's eyes flicked to Roman, who gave the slightest of nods. That was all the permission Ciro needed. In one fluid motion, Ciro snapped the paperclip straight, his fingers moving with the precision of a surgeon. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the small, sharp piece of metal hurtling through the air. It was so fast and so unexpected that the Rossetti man didn't even have time to react.

The paperclip pierced the soft flesh just beneath the man's jaw, embedding itself in his throat with a sickening thud. For a moment, he just stood there, his eyes wide in disbelief as he reached up to touch the spot where the paperclip had vanished into his skin. Then the pain hit, and he staggered back, clutching his throat as blood began to seep through his fingers, staining his shirt a deep crimson.

The bar fell into stunned silence. The head of the Rossetti crime family crashed into a nearby table, sending glasses and bottles shattering to the floor. He gurgled, a horrible sound that echoed in the now-quiet bar, before collapsing in a heap, twitching as the life drained out of him.

Ciro calmly finished his drink, setting the empty glass down with a soft clink. "Now that," he said with a satisfied sigh, "is what I call getting the point across."

Roman, who had been watching the scene with detached calm, finally allowed himself a small, almost imperceptible smile. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

"I'd like to be considered a menace." Ciro grinned, tossing a few bills on the bar as he stood up. "That's why you keep me around, boss."

Roman followed suit, giving the Rossetti man's lifeless body a final glance before turning to leave. As they walked out, Roman couldn't help but ask, "A paperclip, really?"

Ciro shrugged, his grin widening. "What can I say? I'm a resourceful guy. Besides, you always tell me not to make a mess."

Roman chuckled, the sound low and dark. "You're going to give me gray hairs, Ciro. More than my younger siblings do"

"Hey, I just saved you a bullet. You should be thanking me." Ciro's laughter echoed as they disappeared into their car and into the night, leaving the bar's patrons and Rossetti's buddies to wonder if they had really just witnessed what they thought they had.