My Tragic Mafia Life | ✔️

18

She battered on, reeling in whatever wickedness her dignity held to fight back—to convince them. "Dante." She said, the sound of her own voice begging like a child shocking her. He didn't dare look again at her. Like she was worth it. Like she was worth his pity.

"Who would miss a spoiled snob like her?" The laughter of Houston filled the room. The room full of young murderers, leaving Josephine's hair matted and skin rippling with fear. "I bet we're making the school a safer place."

"You can't," She seethed from the ground, ignoring the fragility of her legs. Her voice that heaved. But she tore through."My father's powerful. He will find me. And he will make you pay."

She should have used a nicer tone, a kinder tongue, but she couldn't help it. Not with the batter of the ropes, or the ache in her teeth. Teeth—since when did Josephine care about her teeth? It was as if her body, the entirety of each vein that ached, each tendon, each muscle was screeching at her. Crying and begging. Leave leave leave

The room stilled as the threat finally made Dante look at her, made all of them look at her. "And what does your Father do that will make us all pay?"

"She's right you know." Beatriz said cooly, leaving Josephine to loosen in reply. Beatriz watched it all with lazy eyes, unconcerned. Unaffected. "The William's corporate holds a pretty penny. We'll get unwanted attention if we get rid of her."

Josephine nodded, agreeing. Whatever it would take to stop them to hurt her, she would do it.

But Houston said. "So we can't kill her, fine." He ran calloused fingers through his damp hair, rattling a breath of slurs. Then he gleamed, pearly caviers revealing the giddiness in his voice. "But that doesn't mean she needs to be in one piece when she leaves here."

Josephine's face drained of color. "Money," She stuttered out, gasping for air. "I'll give you any amount. You name it."

Dante's gaze was rigid, assessing. "You think a few bills will sway me?"

Josephine stared at the state of his clothes. "Yes."

"So it's decided." Houston bobbed, darting out of Josephine's vision. Behind her, she heard the ugly wane of knives sliding against each other. She thrashed in her seat, her attempts useless to the binds that held her down. "We'll rip out an arm or two, slit a bit of the tongue, something that'll teach her manners, more than her own parents did."

"Please," Josephine begged. And when none of them were moved by her plea, she strained the ropes some more. Josephine was getting desperate. "Then use me. I don't care. Anything. I'll do anything." She was whimpering like a child.

Dante's face was as hard as stone."It'll be bad for the Valencio's to get outsiders involved. Especially girls low of your... quality."

The walls looked as if they were caving in, the oily lamps flickering, Josephine's vision working against her. She shriveled underneath the binds. Quality? Was that all she was to them? She lost track of her breaths in between the glimpses of her future killers. She needed sun. She needed sky, and air, powerful winds full of it. She needed to get out of the room.

Gritting her teeth, Josephine reckoned thousands of ideas, trying to find the one that guaranteed her safety. Her father made it look easy. It wasn't. Where he was cold and calculative, she was vain and nefarious.

Her father was right. She was so weak. So horrible and stupid and—

Lexi.

She said her name out loud, a bit slow, as the syllabus passed around each sound, each drawl, an idea bubbling and taking form. Her gums throbbed. "Lexi is friends with Camillo."