𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐒

𝐯 𝐢 𝐠 𝐢 𝐧 𝐭 𝐢 𝐝 𝐮 𝐨

M I Z P A H
(n.) the deep and emotional bond between people, especially those separated by distance or death

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Is my brother really to blame for his actions when all he did was do what he's seen growing up; what his family does.

No matter how hard I try, even Alec, we can't keep him out of this world. Father expects him to join once he's twenty, Landon's still a pure boy — he is a little mischievous, rude, scary at times but he's not like us.

We've killed people — mercilessly.

Yes, I'm proud of him for sticking up for his friends and his family, for me but I cannot let him get involved in this lifestyle; once he get's the taste of violence, that is all that'll run through his mind.

They call me one of the best assassins Torres have had yet I fear if Landon may be going down the same path. I was forced into this, under the name of family; killing before I even reached eighteen. This sort of stuff fucks you up and at first you don't notice it, if you're strong minded and the guilt doesn't reach for you, you'll be fine for the first few years but the older you get, the more bodies you bury and the worse and you get. It drives you crazy after, I can't sleep at night — not because I'm guilty, those fuckers deserved it but who are we to decided who deserves what.

It's the blood; the blood that stains your hand, the blood that stains your clothes... the blood that stains you.

Oh how this guilt is eating me up from the inside.

"Mara," Dominic suddenly stopped me, gripping my forearm as we halted in the hallway.

I looked up from the ground, just as my eyes landed on the two people before me I felt my heart skip a beat. I'm not scared — maybe a little.

"Amara Torres." The lady spoke, walking closer with a sick smirk on her wrinkled face. She's only forty, looks like she's reaching sixty.

"Gianna Vianello." I spoke with my confidence that I felt shattering so slowly and dreadfully.

"Where's that hooligan brother of yours?" She asked with her snippy voice, she really wants to test me, huh.

"I don't know, ask your bitch of a son," I fired back and watched her smirk collapse as mine widened. "Oh — I forgot! Silly me," I laughed as I looked up at Dominic who was shaking his head at me. "He's getting his face stitched back up." I tapped my head, acting out to piss her off even more.

"I suggest you watch your tone, Ms Torres." Ah, the father now steps in, great.

"And I suggest you keep your wife in check, Mr Vianello." I clenched my jaw, Gianna's expressions so overly dramatic as he looked all offended.

Aw, is someone's ego getting hurt?

"You bitch—" Gianna was reaching for me just when Dominic pushed my behind him in a blink of an eye, staring down at the women with such fire burning in his eyes, I'm sure she just shit herself.

"Don't," Dominic's voice was deep as he held my wrist as I stood behind him. "Stay in your limits or else you'll regret even opening your mouth." He threatened her as Armani Vianello, the husband, quickly pulled her back.

"How dare you, who do you think you—" Armani was cut off by Dominic, me peaking over his shoulder to see the two horrified.

"D'Agostino," That's hot. "Now, if you don't wanna end up like your son," Dominic neatened the man's collar who went white even hearing Dominic's name. "I suggest you shut your mouth," He smiled, his voice dangerously calm and I smirked. "Oh and keep your dirty eyes to yourselves, if you so even look at Amara, I'll rip your eyeballs out your sockets and play golf with them." Holy — wow. Where is all this protectiveness coming from, I mean I'm not complaining.