Kidnapped

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

-ARES SEIDON >

I've never killed before. 

There were multiple opportunities for me to murder, but I never took the bait. Who the fuck was I to take a life. To take away the chance a person can get to repent, or possibly change. That is what I stand for.

Or. . . What I stood for anyway.

But what happened last week changed my view on it. Hearing her pleas to live, when he never had the right to take her life from her in the first place, it drove me fucking crazy. I failed her. I was supposed to protect her. Never have I failed to do my job. This had to be the most important job given to me. 

And I fucked it up. The mere thought sends my chest into fucking feral rage. That is the sole reason I've been in the gym all day, lifting heavy weights till I physically couldn't and was n the verge of passing out. Boxing the punching bag until I completely destroyed it.

"Ares," 

My back tenses. I don't turn around.

"The principessa is safe with the capo. And the men haven't found any other associates of the dead man. The capo is barely keeping it together," 

That fucking makes two of us.

"He wants to talk to you," I turn around, watching him shift his weight from one foot to the other. Nervous. "Right now." He says, turning to leave. I roll my eyes, take the gloves off, and grabbing my bag, walking straight to the shower room.

>>>

I stood in his study, my face contorted in humiliating anger, hands buried in my pockets while the Don had a fixated glare on me. His mismatched colored eyes were dark and dangerous. I might not walk out of here alive, and honestly, I wouldn't mind.

I've humiliated myself to the point of no return.

His jet black pistol appears out of nowhere as he pulled out the gun in a split second, aiming it at me, and not even a second later, a single gunshot echoes throughout his office. 

I expect myself to be on the floor, bleeding out. But I'm still standing, I wonder if he missed but that was close to impossible. The stinging pain radiating throughout my ear solidified my thoughts. Of course, he wouldn't miss. He's the one who taught me how to use the many firearms imaginable. 

The man raised me.

Since my parents were too busy making bank in Greece, they left me with Sicily's greatest sinner. "You walk in here, hands in your pockets, without looking at me in the eyes and facing your fucking mistake like a fucking man." I take my hands out of my pockets, intertwining them, and meeting his gaze.

"You've never failed me, Ares. You never disappointed me. Looks like you got cocky. Too comfortable, you slipped your grip." It becomes difficult to keep eye contact. He's right. I lost a bit of my touch. Before I could say a word, the door opens. Revealing the person that I haven't seen this past week. The person that I couldn't face.                                                                                        
Her soft features appear as she peeks inside the room, her slick curly hair in a messy bun. While she stands barefoot with a black hoodie-dress reaching below her knees. "Ares?"

Her eyes widen as she takes a step inside the office. I look away, shame eating me alive as the handprint on her throat was still partially visible. "Your ear." She gasps walking toward me with a concerned expression etched onto her features.

I expected anger. Rage and betrayal in her gaze and demeanor but no. The brat makes me feel worse by being worried about me.

Before she reaches me, I slowly drop to my knees in front of her.