AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He stood up, resting his hand on his hip as he watched me carefully. “Do you still love him?”
I froze. My eyes locked with Finn’s and my bottom lip trembled. I wanted to lie. I wanted so badly for it not to be true. For me not to love such a vile, twisted human being. I had no reason to love him. I had never wanted to fall in love with him. But I did. And despite everything, I had no idea how to stop. I nodded slowly as he sighed and pulled me in for a hug.
“But I don’t want to, Finn. I want it to stop. How do I make it stop?”
“You can’t, Piccola. I’m afraid that is one of life’s cruellest jokes. You can’t help who you fall in love with. We just love who we love.”
Pain
“I’m cutting you off. Time to go home.” The barman, who currently had two heads and twenty fingers, rested his hands against the skanky dive bar I was trying to drink myself to death in.
I snatched my glass off the counter before he could grab it and threw the neat whiskey back in one go. It no longer burned at the back of my throat. That sensation had numbed about eight drinks ago. Now, even the bitter alcohol made me feel empty. I glared at the barman, trying to focus on one of his swaying faces as I pointed the empty glass at him.
“Do you know who I am?” I slurred. He raised an amused eyebrow.
“Another broken man who thinks he will find the answer to all his problems at the bottom of a bottle?” he replied, smirking. “I’ve been running this place for fifteen years, amico and let me let you in on a little secret, there’s nothing there but more fucking pain. So, give me the glass and take your ass home before you do something you’ll regret.”
“It’s a bit late for that,” I scoffed. “My whole life is one big fucking regret.”
“I see,” he nodded, taking the glass from my hand before I even realised. My head lolled as I leaned across the bar to reach for a bottle myself. He grabbed my shoulder, shoving me back. I seemed to have lost function of my body as I fell and missed the bar stool completely, stumbling on my feet. I chuckled at myself before leaning my forearms on the sticky counter.
“Do you have someone I can call for you? A friend? Family?”
I scoffed again, shaking my head. “No. I am all alone. The way I was always meant to be. You know-,” a hiccup spontaneously interrupted my slurred speech. “I had a fake family. A fake name. Everything in my life is fucking fake. My papi is dead. My sorella is dead. My best man, Stefano, is dead. And the woman I love hates me. She probably wishes I was dead,” I chuckled, ignoring the stabbing pain in my chest. “And I never even told her. Not that it would make a difference now anyway. Nothing even matters anymore. You should have seen the way she looked at me.”
I found the stool and pulled myself onto it again, leaning my head in my hand as I stared back at him. His firm gaze was still resting on my face.
“So… give me another fucking drink ora. Or I might have to fucking shoot you.” I whipped my gun out and placed it on the bar.
I burst out laughing at the look on his face. His eyebrows furrowed as I slammed my hand down on the counter. He slowly reached for the bottle of whiskey and slid it towards me as I put my gun back in my belt.
“Grazie, amico. Good choice. I knew I liked you,” I smiled as he moved away from me timidly to the other end of the bar. I spun on the stool as I took a long swig from the bottle, my drunken eyes finding it hard to focus on all the happy and carefree faces around the dark, dingy room. I noticed a group sat in the corner, who looked exactly like the kind of men I was looking for tonight, and smirked.
Stumbling to my feet and taking the bottle with me, I weaved not so gracefully between the tables towards them. Their raucous laughter and conversations stopped immediately when I leaned against one of their shoulders, smiling at them all.
“What do you want?”
The beefiest one narrowed his gaze on me and I raised the bottle in greeting.
“A fight,” I smiled, my eyes casting over all their faces as they peered at each other with amusement and then burst out laughing.
“You want to fight us?” another clarified and I shook my head, closing my eyes as I did.
“No. Not you. I mean I can if you want or I could make you all a lot of money tonight… if you take me where I need to go,” I explained as realisation dawned on their faces. I was well-known in all the underground fighting clubs in the South, but here in Venice, I didn’t have a fucking clue where to find one. And that’s what I needed right now. To feel something other than what I did.
“You can barely stand on your feet, stronzo. You won’t last two fucking minutes in the ring,” one shook his head as he lifted his beer to his lips.
“Then place your bets on me losing. Or I can make you very rich. I’m sure you have heard of ‘The Panther’,” I smirked, tapping the man’s shoulder and gripping it firmly in my hand. They all shot me a look that told me my reputation had made it to the underground circles of the North.
They burst out laughing as I continued to smile at them. I must have looked ridiculous. Drunk beyond belief and already battered and bruised from my fight with Giovanni last night.
“You’re ‘The Panther’? And I’m fucking Bruce Wayne,” one laughed hysterically.
I pulled out my wallet and threw a couple of hundred euros on the table in front of them.
“Fine. Just tell me where I can fight.”
They all shifted their gazes around the group before the largest man with a missing tooth stood up and huffed, “Follow me.”
