Stella Starlet

Italy

Carlisle's Point of View
-

Stella had been hope for two days now and I felt more at ease.

It was strange seeing her in my home. She looked incredibly different that I sometimes thought she was a stranger.

Her bones were poking out of her skin and her face resembled a skeleton, her cheekbones so prominent and her eyes quite tired.

It made me distressed that wherever she was, she was hurting. Or sick.

I shook the thoughts out of my mind as I walked into one of the bases for the mafia activity. I hadn't been here in a while; Stella was drawing me away from work which wasn't good. I needed to stay focused or someone would take me out the first chance they got.

I was coming in because my right-hand man reported that one of our guys was a traitor who was leaking information to our enemy. That sort of thing never went unpunished.

When I walked into the basement, the room smelled of sweat and you could hear harsh words being spat at the traitor.

There he was. Tied to a chair, gagged and bleeding from his cheek and eyebrow where he had been hit.

"Carlisle, here he is. Son of a bitch mentioned your girl to the other side."

I froze. That was deadly. He exposed me, my weakness to them. I knew that they were going to probably come for her to get to me.

I motioned for them to loosen his gag so he could talk.

"Have we not served you well?" I asked calmly. Although, on the inside, I was absolutely livid.

"You're a son of a whore, Carlisle. You bastard! Your mafia took my brother and he's dead now!" He yelled.

I examined my hands, knowing I was itching to land a punch on his jaw.

"It's just business. You know that."

I turned to my right-hand man, Alessio.

"Tie him by the feet onto the back of a car. Take a nice, long drive. I don't want him to have a fucking face when you return!" I yelled.

Alessio nodded and then him and the other man pulled him from his chair and took him up from the basement.

The base was a large estate out in Upstate New York, lots of privacy and not a single person for miles and miles. Perfect for us to do business.

As I walked out of the house, I saw the traitor struggling profusely as they tied his feet with a rope to the back of Alessio's car.

They got in and started the engine. The traitor began struggling even more, trying to get out of the rope but it was useless. As soon as they began driving, his screams became louder and louder with each meter they drove.

When they return, he won't have anymore skin on his body. He'll wish he was dead by then. Maybe I'll grant him that luxury.

Stella did not know what I did when I went to "work."

I didn't want her to know.

I feared she would be scared of me, hate me. I knew most people would.

I was wicked. I knew this. I knew I would have to be if I was going to be the leader of the mafia. My father was to blame. Sometimes I thought he physically couldn't feel sympathy.

He was incredibly unyielding, except upon the rare occasions when his family was in danger. He would do anything for his family. 

My two brothers and one sister live in Italy with them. I wanted them to meet Stella, I wanted them to see the beauty that I had seen in her.