Page 3 of Violent Pawn

At his leave, I skitter through the studio’s doorway and across the parking lot to my car. Thankfully, an entire lot is between our vehicles, so once I’m sure he’s unable to make out my features, hatred seeps into my vision. Every way he could meet a painful death consumes my mind.

If only life were different.

As I start my car, I wonder at what point I’ll give up pretending to be okay with Papa ruining ballet. Give up everything and end it all. If I wasn’t alive, no man could use me. No strangers would fuck me in their hotel rooms.

Papa giving the orders.

Ursin praising Papa while winking at me.

Users, all of them. Consumers of my soul, my mind, my body.

Death would be kinder than surviving beneath a man’s law.

2

NERO

“You called, signore?”

Giovanni Mancini looks up from his drink and, with a passive wave of his hand, gestures for me to take the chair opposite him. Almost immediately, a server appears with a locally brewed beer before disappearing into the background, as all Giovanni’s staff are trained to do.

As one of five Cosa Nostra Capos, no one fucks with him. Nobody smart, anyway.

“Bene. You came quickly, Nero.”

“Sì. Making you wait would be disrespectful.”

Signore Mancini’s lips twitch with something close to a smirk as he drags his drink closer, but all I see in it is pleasure. Delight by my compliance, my respect for him as leader, and proof that I’ve done something right.

I respect my Capo immensely. Although new to the organization, there hasn’t been a time I’ve doubted his actions. He’s terrifying and a force to be reckoned with, but that adds to my admiration.

He tosses an arm over the back of the booth as his finger traces the edge of his glass. “When my son proposed for you to join our ranks, I was skeptical. Given your background, I assumed you wouldn’t have the dedication and willingness it takes, so I’ve been paying close attention. You’ve surprised me, Nero. Not only that, but you and Zeno make a great team. You balance each other out. It reminds me of myself and Elio.”

Elio being his second-in-command and closest confidant.

“He’s my best friend,” I reply.

“And will make a promising future Capo, don’t you think? His instincts about you were correct, so it gives me hope all his other instincts will be too.”

“Grazie, signore.” I bow my head slightly.

“Which is why I have a special mission for you.”

Excitement at the prospect thrums through me. This is a true show of his trust. It’s a chance to prove myself without Zeno. Most of the missions Giovanni sends down are ones we complete together, but he’s not including Zeno in this one. Ready to take whatever the job is, I lean forward until the table connects with my stomach.

Giovanni grabs a folder from the bench beside him and tosses it towards me. The trajectory across the glossy table slides it right in front of me. “Open it,” he instructs, taking a sip from his glass.

Obeying without hesitation, I flip open the front cover, taking in the picture of a girl probably around my age. The photo was taken far away, and her gaze is locked on something in the distance.

Blonde hair curls halfway down her back and frames her face. A face that’s borderline angelic and almost seems fake. She’s walking beside another girl, a friend presumably, whose dark curtain hair conceals her identity.

“The blonde is Anastasia Petrov. Russian. She’s the daughter of a man within the Bratva who’s particularly close to their Pakhan.”

The same temperature that raised my blood at the sight of her is drenched in ice by her identity. She’s with the Bratva, thus Giovanni’s enemy, which makes her my enemy.

Zeno once said this life ages us from children to adults, skipping our teenage years. I didn’t fully understand then, but I do now. Whatever assignment his father’s about to delegate has to do with a woman whose only crime is who she shares DNA with. And that…isn’t fair.

“Review the second document.”