My Tragic Mafia Life | ✔️

24

Isla bent her head to her lover, a calm silhouette at best. Houston gazed back in thought before nodding. Josephine arched a brow as Isla offered a seat to Josephine beside them and, as prickly as thorns, Josephine took it.

"We're here to be united," Isla explained. "And right now, no one is weaker than you."

"Excuse me?"

"What my girlfriend means," Houston interjected, cutting the space between Josephine's anger and Isla's steady demise. "that if you're going to be a part of the team, you need to bring something to the table. And right now,we need to work on..." He faded aback, glancing at each strain and imperfection that crossed Josephine's state. Houston coughed. "Everything."

Josephine kept her voice bitter."So what is this, mafia boot camp?"

"Exactly." Isla said, her arms rummaging for something in her bag. Finding for what she sought, she sprawled it across the table in front of Josephine's blue gaze.

Josephine went still."You've got to be kidding me."

Isla couldn't help the smile that crossed her face. Sliding the book further, she prattled on. "Every week we'll be testing your skills. Better to start now than later."

    Josephine held the feathered leather spine and gaped. "You're serious?"

The smile echoing off of Isla looked genuine. Kind, even.

Houston crossed an ankle over his knee, his tone a bit coy. "It's just learning Spanish. How bad can it be?"   

Josephine ripped the textbook open, the spine torn and old beneath her fingers—noticing their lack of care—and flipped through the chapters. She hissed at the sight. Josephine thought that she would be thrown into a life of crime once she became their toy. Not endure language lessons.

It reminded her of school. Books and boredom. Void of thrills. Void of her care.

She drowned the urge to throw the old thing away all together. She spared a glance at the couple. Spat."Is that it?"

"This is also for you," Isla said, her hand outstretched. Houston looked annoyed.

Josephine could recognize any tube of skin care immediately. It was ointment. She curled her lips. "What's it for?"

"For your wrists—and ankles. It's an apology," Isla explained as Josephine's eyes clouded with offense. "We may have taken it too far when dealing with you. No one deserves to be treated like that. It's just..." He gaze wavered, her posture loosening in thought. Houston looked restrained at every word, every ounce of sympathy given to Josephine.

Josephine noticed far too quickly. He didn't believe her worthy of Isla's words. But he sat, said nothing.

Isla continued her reasoning, gently."We all care about each other. And we might do bad things to protect one another, but I know what it feels like to be in your position. I want to be friends, Josephine. You may not receive an apology from the others, but consider mine from everyone. I'm sorry you had to go through all that."

Isla cradled the gift in her hand, and pressed it into Josephine's grasp, their skin touching. Too lightly. Too kind to be considered from the arms of a girl in the mafia.

Josephine raged at her words. She wanted to swallow any retort, just suppress her vile, to smile and move on. To bask in her pity and find herself in a position more secure. But Isla's apology raged something inside of her, dark and unknown, making it hard to bite down and forget.

Perhaps Josephine was wicked, but it didn't give reason to treat her the way they did. To recall the memory of rope left her awake at night, even safe in her bed. At home. Away from them. Even if Isla showed her any drop of remorse, it didn't change how Josephine felt.