Angel's Mafia (gxg) ✓

XLVII | Creature of Ruby and Bone

ONE YEAR LATER

SOMETIMES I WONDER ABOUT THE LIFE I'VE left behind.

But as I catch my smile in the mirror―honed to wicked perfection―I forget about it. Because the person I was before was no one special. No one powerful.

And now . . . now I have everything I ever wanted.

They call me Ruby now. For the blood I've spilled.

To think―once, I was so afraid of killing.

Now it comes easy to me.

My grandfather told me I needed to create a reputation, one everyone would fear, and so I have. No one knows my identity yet―the Reaper said I would become a target if they knew I was his heir―and so I have created this all on my known.

I use the high heel of my shoe to press down a drunken man's chest.

After he made an inappropriate grope for my chest, I showed him exactly what I'm capable of by whipping out my knife.

That's another thing people are afraid of. For the Mafia, guns are the normal. But ever since I started using blades, daggers, I have become something of a legend.

Besides, using a knife to kill is no different than using a palette knife to paint.

Who would've thought? Art and death are so similar.

A pang of longing hits me. Killing is the only kind of painting I've done in the last year, and sometimes I miss it. It's not that I'm not allowed to paint, it's just that I can't.

Ever since Angel's betrayal, a part of me has felt . . . empty. I haven't heard from her or seen her in twelve months, and I'm forced to think that maybe she's moved on. Maybe she really doesn't care after all.

It's for the best. Because now that I know our families are at war, it is easier. Easier to pretend I never loved her, easier to pretend that I blame her for her parents killing my father.

I don't. Blame her, I mean.

But the Reaper seems pleased when I act as though I need vengeance, and I've learned that when the Reaper is pleased, everything is good. His temper is something else.

The drunken man rolls over and throws up over the bar floor and I sneer in disgust, though really, I just feel sorry for him.

After striding up to the bar, I order a drink. Then I have a faint sense of deja vu, and I realize. This is the place where Vittoria and I went out for drinks almost a year ago. This is where I met Angel for the first time.

All of that seems so long ago.

Vittoria . . . what happened to her?

The last I remember is that she was blackout drunk at the masquerade ball, and I told her to stay in places with other people. After that . . . well, after that, Angel gave me up. And I haven't had any contact with Vittoria.

Although she's a member of one of the three Mafia families―four, technically, considering my grandfather's name―I haven't seen her. I know it's because the Mafia families don't interact, but . . . I miss her.