SCORPIONE | BOOK TWO.

Two

THE PRESENT

I stared out of the opened window onto the green grass. The morning dew had settled on the greenery, the plants were slightly heavy with melting snow from last night. The air wafted throughout my large bedroom, cooling it.

The grey and brown cat- Miki- was curled up into a small ball on my bed. I ran my fingers through her fur as I dreaded the day. I wanted nothing more than to stay in bed for as long as I was alive.

But papa would be knocking at my door any minute now, yelling at me to get up. Or he'd send one of the maids, the one who feared him the most. She'd knock gently on my door and call my name, and lower her head when I opened the door.

I sighed when the three soft knocks sounded on my door. I peeled the warm covers from my body and stood from my bed.

Veronica's head was bowed when I opened the door. "Good morning, Ms Sorella. Your father requests your presence downstairs,"

"Thank you, Veronica," I told her gently, and shut the door behind me.

I walked to my dresser and peeled the oversized button down shirt from my body, and threw it to the side. I pulled a slightly loose, pale green shirt over my head and paired it with white sandals. I brushed my hair and when I heard a few loud voices outside of my door, I prepared myself for my father and brother.

And then, not even a second later, my bedroom door was thrown open. I snapped my eyes to Lorenzo as he walked in, my father in two.

"At least she's up," Lorenzo muttered to my father, who sent both of us a glare. I sighed, "Good morning," Before I turned, and folded my arms over my chest.

"What's the commotion for?"

My father and Lorenzo spared each other a glance, and they moved closer to the door. Lorenzo turned to me, swallowing hard.

"He's back,"

My blood froze to ice in my veins. My hands always shook, no matter how warm I was. But now, they were shaking in fear. In dreaded, hostile fear. I hadn't heard those two words in four years, and I prepared myself to hear them, but I never prepared for how my heart would stutter in my chest.

Vitterio Rossi was back.

Or as everyone calls him, Scorpione.

I had heard one of the soldiers telling the other why he was named that.

Apparently, he's fast. Faster than Freddie, they said. And he doesn't have to hit more than three times for a man to be unconscious. There was a story of Vitterio Rossi ripping a man's arm from his body while he was in Italy. There was also another story of Vitterio lighting a cigar, then flinging the match onto petrol. Which caused a warehouse with seven hundred Polish men to burn alive inside it.

No one knew I saw what he did that day. Four years ago. No one knew Tracy had killed herself a year after seeing that because it was just too much for her to bare. When she closed her eyes, that's all she could see. She could only see Donatello's eyes rolled back in his head, and said head being about thirty centimeters from his body.