𝗣𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗹𝘆 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗮𝘀 𝗙𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗻 𝗔𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗹.
BOOK 1 (Mafia Angels Series)
We leave something of ourselves behind when we leave a place, we stay there, even though we go away. And there are things in us that we can find again only by...
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When you pick a job because of your parents, they are not the ones experiencing the unhappiness. Go after what you desire and be happy.
~ Nzuri ____________
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2016, Murray Hill, New York
Age 23
"Hey, Teo," I call out to my best friend lounging on the adjacent couch.
"Wassup, Val?" he arches his eyebrows in confusion, tipping his head backward to look at me.
"Do you remember the joys of the mafia life?" Matteo rushes to sit up, searching my eyes for something. He remains silent, pondering his answer and leaving me to my thoughts. The first time I felt myself losing interest was my mission before the Eloise one.
I removed the bloodied gloves from my fingers and stuffed them in my suit pocket, smearing the blood splattered on my face. Kicking the bullets near my foot, I examined the corpse of my target; his wife's lifeless body laid across from his. The red liquid oozing out of the stab wounds in her chest and stomach twisted my gut as my body froze. My eyes refused to leave her figure, my mind projected the image of my mother's face in place of the stranger's.
My target, Villen Soames was the Don of a smaller rival gang, his children had betrayed him and joined L.D, selling out all his information and objectives-- including the attempted assassination of my parents. I had walked in on him torturing his wife, her piercing screeches and screams filled my head as I shielded my body with the partition.
As I readied my gun to shoot the disgusting man, her voice faded, her screams turned into whimpers, her erratic breathing calmed to small gasps and that's when I knew I couldn't save her. Blinded by rage, I released a barrage of shots aimed for anywhere on the man; he had no time to react or process the moment. I stepped in front of him as he crumbled to his knees, staring at him with cold eyes as I finished him off with a shot to the center of his skull.
For weeks on end, the image of my mother in the woman's place played on repeat like a broken cassette. Every day I woke up during that time, the content in my stomach would be emptied in the clay bowl in my bathroom. I refused any missions for a while until one came I couldn't refuse, one that increased my detest for the lifestyle I lived even more.
