His Sweet Bella

chapter 2

Killian Serrano    

A NIGHTMARE. 

That's how people describe him. There are three things he is notorious for; his vicious smirk, his cold malignant glare, and his barbarian nature. He is also very creative. He has created a thousand methods of killing someone in the most brutal manner without carving a single wound. His people likened him with Hades. The king of death. The ruler of the underworld. The title suits him, considering he indeed is the ruler, the formidable king of Spanish Mafia. 

On the other hand, he is also likened with Adonis for his attractive features. When not slaughtering his enemies, he is stealing the breath of women and dare I say some men with his exquisite looks. Possessing a height of 6'3, he is a man of muscles. His black hair that reaches up to his shoulder complements his green grey orbs and pronounced cheekbones. His eyes can be called his best asset when not sporting the crazed glint. The next best feature is his perfectly sculpted jawline, as sharp as an obsidian knife. His slightly crooked aristocratic nose above his thin but very kissable lips, adds a royal touch to his appearance. A powerful aura radiates off of him that sets him apart from the rest. He exudes a powerful aura which is both mysterious and dark. But don't let his handsome face fool you. It is better to fall off a cliff then, falling for this man. He is a devil in disguise.  

All in all, Killian is a walking example for the phrase, "beautiful but deadly," period!  

" Killian please..for old time sake...don't... don't kill me..I am your friend," the man joined his hands and begged desperately on his knees. He was covered in his own blood. His clothes were tattered and skin tainted with countless wounds in striking contrast with the man towering above him who was wearing a snug black shirt that outlined his muscular frame. His sleeves were rolled up to elbow, displaying some latin quote tattooed around his brawny arm and his expensive Rolex, draped around his wrist. Garreth's half-closed eyes were filled with terror for the man that was smirking down at him. Just like a Death Angel.    

""I.. Tengo una familia. Mi hijo tiene sólo dos años," he pleaded weakly through his sobs. (I have a family. My kid is only two years old) 

Killian withdrew the gun, settled back in his chair, widened his legs, and looked down upon his once close friend.   

Garreth took it as his cue to speak further. Perhaps Killian is not as heartless as he claims to be. 

"Mi hijo te admira. Tu hijo Dios. Mi esposa está embarazada. Por favor, por su bien, déjame ir. Te prometo que no te defraudaré nunca más. Si... Si quieres me iré de este país para siempre y no volveré," Garreth explained in his shaky voice. He was having a hard time speaking as his jaws were almost broken but still he forged on. (My child looks up to you. Your God son. My wife is pregnant. Please, for their sake, let me go. I promise I won't let you down ever again. If..If you want I'll leave this country for good and never come back.)

"Por favor, por mi familia... déjame ir," he sounded desperate. The guy broke down like a kid in front of his childhood friend. (Please, for my family..let me go)

The chair squeaked under his weight when Killian leaned forward. The slight movement startled Garreth. He looked up, alarmed. Killian clasped his hands together and studied Garreth's pathetic condition with a neutral expression before his face broke down into a signature smirk. Garreth's face paled, for he knew what the smirk meant.

"Deberías haber pensado en ello antes de cruzarte conmigo, amigo mío" cold fear crawled up Gareth's spine. The Mafia King cocked his gun and pointed it at the shaking Garreth. (You should have thought about it before crossing me, my friend.) 

Killian tilted his head, "as far as your family is concerned. Don't worry, I'll take good care of them." he assured him in strong Spanish accent.