'The lost city of Atlantis once existed', 'Aliens are walking among us'. 𝒁𝒂𝒓𝒂 believes in all. But Mafia in the 21st century is a MYTH.
*****
𝑮𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝑨𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒊, the underboss of the organized crime family Cosa Nostra, meets a kindergarten te...
I still wonder sometimes if they kill people to create news. All of them looked ready, not a single hair out of its place like they were representing morning news, not reporting at 2 AM about a gruesome murder.
All of them spotted my car at the same time, Emiliano handed me a pair of black aviators. But I ignored it and climbed out of the car. Their mikes were shoved into my face, the sharp brightness of the camera's flashing tried to blind my soulless eyes, but to no avail. Behind me, Emiliano was shoving them aside like a bulldozer. But my hands remained limp to my sides.
They were useless because they didn't rise when they were needed. I lost her. My walk turned into a side when they all had to hold back reaching the boundary of the morgue. I had made a weak-ass vow to myself to avenge my brother when I was here the last time. Fill the empty drawers with mutilated bodies of his killers.
Instead, I was scanning the bullets that tore through her chest. Inspected her blood that was beginning to dry now. The smell of rotting faces didn't even affect me anymore.
Emiliano's reluctant footsteps rang in the cold morgue. "Begin the preparations for her last rites, Emiliano," I tell him. The moment I bury her, I'll begin to do what should have been done years ago.
*****
The next morning, hundreds of people were gathered in the cemetery all dressed in black fitted suits and curve-hugging black dresses. As though mocking me that they lived to see the morning sunshine today. Whilst someone else was getting buried six feet under. All because I had failed.
I stayed awake all night recalling my every single mistake. How I had foolishly thought I had time. When I was wearing myself out in the fighting ring making risky decisions that could cause my business a fortune. I should have been working on the plan... The plan to execute my father.
The man responsible for her death.
I took a step forward and watched her face for the last time. The embalmers did a great job restoring her heavenly beauty, no one can tell that she had been shot 5 times... 5 times in the chest and every single drop of her blood had drained out of her body, washing away with the raindrops. Even the sky opened to weep for her last night.
The shooter knew one had been enough. No doctor in the world could have saved her even if he was standing beside her. But the hatred for her made him do this.
I uncurled my fingers, the dirt slipped from my hand falling on her pristine casket. This is how I lost her, she was slipped away from my hand so quickly all I could do was watch like a mute spectator. The hatred had to be for me because no one can hate her. She was so pure. She could never hurt anyone.
I took a step back from the grave as the fucking coward I am.
The priest gulped visibly, fearing this mortal man. When my eyes met with him, he began his last rituals praying to God to grant her heaven. A life where no men like me will even get to sniff around her.
My head was held high, but my eyes were casting low in shame. Then out of nowhere in my weakest moment, a soft hand curled around mine. Careful not to touch my damaged fingers. Always so careful.
"Gian..." I heard my name being whispered from Zara's mouth.
Slowly my head turned to look at her. She was wearing a white dress, standing out among the sea of people in black attire, looking like the angel she is.
"I am so sorry, principessa."
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