𝐔𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄 3.1 [𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑁𝐷-𝐴𝐿𝑂𝑁𝐸] [𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙴]

𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 • ❝𝐍𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝❞

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 • 𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 || ❝𝐍𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝❞

> 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃

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𝐃 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐄 • 𝐑 𝐔 𝐒 𝐒 𝐎

The sun set a couple of hours ago, meaning everyone but the mafia men are asleep.

I stand across from Draco who is sitting down on the stool in our entertainment room, I sigh and run my fingers through my hair, blood boiling in my body encouraged me to launch myself at Draco. But I didn't.

"Do you have anything to say? Testa di cazzo." [Dickhead]

I stare at Draco who holds his water in a whiskey glass and refuses to break eye contact with it.

"Niente da dire?" [Nothing to say] I grit my teeth and picked up the whiskey glass next to him and threw it at the dart board, gaining three pairs of eyes, apart from Draco's.

"Dante, calm down." My brothers voice interrupted the blood still sizzling in my veins, I rolled my eyes and sat next to Draco on the stool.

"Do you have any idea what you have done?" I chuckle in attempt to cover up the anger rising.

"She could have died." I mutter, before finishing, "She could have died and we know fuck all about her!" I stand suddenly and slam my palm onto the counter watching other glasses shake.

"That is all you care about isn't it Dante?" He sniggers and stood tall to face me, "Not the fact she had a daughter there. Who is young and has her whole life ahead of her, she could've been shot Dante, but, you didn't think about that did you?" He cocks up his brow at me along with his chocolaty eyes staring me down, I huff and grab him by the scruff of his neck.

"Fuck with my captive again, and you'll know about it." I pulled him close and shoved him away, I turn to see Bruno's eyes facing me with disappointment, but like I cared to know his judgement.

I walked up the metal stairs only to feel Bruno's rough hand pat my shoulder, forcing me to turn around and face him.

"That was a bit uneeded, no?" He rolls his eyes and I scoff.

"If you're here to judge you might as well go back downstairs." I shake his hand off of my shoulder and walk off to the darkness of the gym.

I look at the boxing bag swinging in front of me and already begin to launch my fist through it, fighting it off, pushing it away will all of my strength. I looked at my watch and it was one o'clock in the morning now, there is simply Nessun riposo per i malvagi. [No rest for the wicked]