Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 62569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Interesting.
I looked up at Raven and held my emotions in check. Let her see me from her little pedestal.
Let them see me from the pews.
Let the memory of what my family did crawl up and down their spines like a ghost they can’t get rid of. I was used to it. I’d shut down my emotions to the constant stares a long time ago. It helped that I’d been sent to Italy post college. I’d needed to get away from her, from the stares, from the families. Ivan had been next in line, and according to the whispers, because of who my father was—I would have been next. Then again, I never knew him before the barrel of the Abandonato gun was facing him and my uncle. By then it was too late. He’d already sold my mom to a drug dealer for more drugs and had starved me so much as a child that the first time I was given food I didn’t have to fight for, I hid some in my pillowcase.
It made sense in my mind. If I had to run, I’d have food and I could shove clothes in there plus the only blade I’d ever been given by Dante Alfero himself when he took me in and told me he’d make a man out of me.
The only problem was he had twin daughters who drove any sane breathing man to drink—heavily. I’d kept a wide berth not that it mattered. They were everywhere—like the very air I breathed. Tempest was at least semi-quiet where Raven felt the need to talk even in her sleep.
I let out a rough exhale.
I'd only said yes because it was Dante asking.
Any other person I would have laughed in their face. Coming back was already the plan once Ivan, my cousin, continued to rebuild the arm of the De Lange family.
And it was my job to be by his side even if it meant I was his silent weapon.
I did better without words anyway. I used my knife and only used my gun when I had to. While most of the family appreciated what Ivan was trying to do—there were still some people pissed off about being under the Campisi rule. It was normal to have checks and balances, but since the De Lange family was out of the fold for so long, some had gotten bitter and resentful.
And my new job?
Protect the remaining heirs at all cost—Raven Alfero included.
Dante Alfero, boss of the Alfero family, with the twin daughters who were a pain in everyone’s ass—Raven was known as the black widow of the Alfero family, she was unpredictable and when her bodyguard was originally hired everyone took bets to see how long he’d last.
It was a joke at the time.
Nobody expected him to get too close to her—he knew the rules and so did she.
Nobody expected him to die that swiftly, that quickly. He was better than that. None of it made sense.
The fucking bastard had to have known something we didn’t.
It wasn’t a mistake, though. I’d take the information I knew to my grave.
What he did, he did on purpose and it still made no sense. The sort of gunshot, the intel behind their location, and the lack of whispers surrounding the situation. What an asshole.
I would never forgive him for it—he was too trusting of what he was promised and ended up dying in vain because of it. I could forgive stupidity—I could not however, forgive a death when torture was more deserved.
I clutched my hands at my sides and stared straight ahead.
There are rows and rows of enemies in pressed black suits. Everyone looks so refined, so tame. I know the truth though, blood drips from each and every one of their hands and yet they have the audacity to point those same fingers at my family—at me, as if we’re the problem when we’ve proven in the last two years that they’re the ones who need to open their eyes.
The thing about making enemies? The ones who stay alive never forget, they pass down the bitterness, the rage, the inhumanity to their children and their children’s children until we’re unable to be baptized in anything but blood colored glasses.
Raven stood behind the pulpit like a fallen angel playing at sainthood. Her black dress hugged her curves, her face was like stone, her jaw clenched, her eyes locked on mine briefly before she addressed the room again.
No tears. I wasn’t surprised.
She held everything in like a poorly timed grenade.
Raven was beautiful in such a way that you weren’t even aware you were getting caught in her web until it was too late, until you had the scars and trauma to prove it.
I saw nothing but hatred in her eyes, for me, for the world, and maybe a bit of vengeance.