L'Angelo della Morte | A Mafia Romance

♛21 ⥄ ❝ Knife-play ❞

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They say I did something bad — then why's it feel so good?

~ Taylor Swift

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My shoes smacked against each step as I bounded down the stairs. I made a sharp turn towards the kitchen, not the slightest surprised that Rizzo and Colby were sitting at the kitchen island – eating breakfast and watching something on Dante's phone.

"Morning, boys."

They both looked up from the screen with the same scrunched face of disapproval.

"Boys," Dante mimicked, not forgetting to include an excessive eye roll.

I yanked out a chair and sat down facing them, placing both of my palms flat on the marble surface. "I wanted to ask you something."

Colby glanced at Rizzo from the corner of his eye, then back at me, silently urging me to continue.

"I," I pointed to myself. "Am going insane not doing anything productive. I'm tired of feeling helpless."

Dante frowned. "What's that to us?"

"Well... I figured you guys could teach me some tricks." I glanced at Colby and forced a sly smirk on my face. "Wanna play with knives?"

Colby's eyes widened and he slapped a palm to his chest. "Carly, are you flirting with me?"

"Pretty sure she didn't mean knife-pla – Ow!" Dante protectively rubbed his freshly punched arm and glared at Colby before looking back at me. "Colby's the knife guy, how do I play into this?"

"I've seen you fight, Rizzo," I smirked. "I've seen you handle a man twice your size as though you were wrestling a toddler. You know how you play into this."

"Does Vittorio kno –"

"No."

Colby smacked the countertop with an elated smile on his face. "When do we start?"

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The knife clattered pathetically against its target: the defenseless tree Colby had pointed out.

"Stop Salt-Bae'ing my knives, Carly." Colby stared at the scattered knives as though they were fallen soldiers on a battlefield.

"I'm trying," I whined and threw my head back in frustration.

"Here," Colby sighed and stepped behind me. His chest brushed against my back briefly and he leaned his head down peeking over my shoulder. He gave me a boyish grin and slid another one of his silver throwing knives into my palm, slowly positioning my fingers. "Steady your breathing."

I inhaled deeply – my eyes following as he brought his arm back, moving mine with it.

"Aim." He whipped our arms forward with a force I couldn't possibly replicate, and stopped abruptly. "Once your hand reaches this point, you let it slide out of your hand. Got it?"

I nodded hesitantly, and Colby brought our arms back once more. His breathing was steady and slow, much like Vittorio's when he prepared to pull the trigger.

His arm moved with mine, and this time, I released the knife. It cut through the air and sunk into the tree trunk with a loud thunk.

My lips pulled into a slow grin. I did it. Well, kind of. Now I just needed to be able to do it solo. But regardless, I laughed. I laughed because something worked. I laughed because this was one step closer to not being the helpless prey I had been. And I laughed because Colby did.