The Mafia Sacrifice

80

Damon King

Many visits later....

I stand in the room with just me, two guards, and a one of Antonio's former members. He looks as if he was scared, which is understandable.

Making my way to him, I walk in a slow pace giving myself time to observe his actions. Once I made it to my placement, I squat down to talk to the man lying on the floor.

"What's your name?" I say trying to be nice because Starr simply asked me to not hurt anyone.

I wait for a response but he doesn't answer.  He just lays on the floor with his hands on his left arm. "Are you hurt?"

Reaching down to tap his shoulder, he slaps me straight across my face. "You file puta. I have people who would kill you," He yells. "You will soon learn your lesson."

I stare at the broken man in pure shock.

Rage runs through my blood stream as he speaks to me in a disrespectful way as I only tried to help him. Without speaking, I lift up my pants leg and taking a knife out of it's holder. Proceeding to leaving a swift cut on his cheek.

I angled it so it would be one that would hurt like shit.

He winces in pain and grabs his cheek. "No hablaré.¿Estás aquí yo? ¡No diré ni una palabra!" The middle aged man says to me. Because Italian and Spanish are similar in ways, I understand exactly what he meant. Meaning— I won't talk. You hear me? I won't fucking say a word.

"Oh but you you will, hijo," I let the Spanish word— son—come off my tongue, before he tries to wrap his hands around my neck.

I push him back with one hand. He claws me with all of his nails trying to attack me. I take my right hand while the left is holding the old man back, and grab my gun. He falls onto the cold flood after I suddenly pistol whipped him.

I push him over to see the damage on his naked arm, though it wasn't an injury.

"The Mongols;  Los Angeles," I read out loud.

I came to the conclusion that he was in a local fucking gang. He's a traitor, but I could help but wonder if he was a traitor on Antonio's behalf as well.

That's fucking disrespectful.

Gangs are inferior compared to Mafias. Gangs are what little boys go to, but Mafias are for men. We are global, organized, and have even policemen kissing our toes. Gangs... their members are stretched across every jail or prison in the world because they are unorganized, stupid, and out of control; in other words, sloppy. We have protocol and start with the selection of family. They... they are worthless. Imposters. Below.

"Tell the underbosses to meet me in the conference room," I demand. One pulls out his phone as I started listening to his every move. "Hang up the fucking phone and find them directly."

"Yes boss," He says before he leaves the room and another enter the room behind him.

I observe the lettering Mongols Brotherhood. Just behind it has a symbol of this pathetic gang. It had a scrawny man, with a small ass cornrows. He had black shades on with a long goatee.

Shifting his arm sleeve up more so I can get a better look, I see just at the upper half of his arm quoting, 'GOD FORGIVES MONGOLS DON'T.'

Right. This is fucking dumb as fuck.

Rage again runs through my blood. I push the guy so he's laying on his back. I pull his shirt up to see his tattoos on his chest. Filled with irrelevant as shit. Some say 'FUCK AMERICA' others say dumb ass gang shit like 'I fucked your bitch this morning and now she's on a stretcher.'