≫ A Dark Mafia Romance ≪
Francesca "Frankie" is undeniably stunning, her ethereal beauty drawing all eyes towards her. A fusion of classic allure and edgy charm. Francesca is fiercely skilled as a criminal defense lawyer. However, there's a cruel ed...
"Revenge, the sweetest morsel to the mouth that ever was cooked in hell."
- Walter Scott
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I savored the taste of my cognac, the final warmth sliding down my throat before placing the empty glass on the mahogany dresser. A gentle rap at the door broke the silence. "Tori, can I come in?" came Madison's voice from the hallway.
"Always," I replied.
She walked in, looking thoughtful and too calm compared to her usual energetic self. Madison was my only sister, the same blood ran in our veins, she and my mother were everything I held holy. To my enemies, however, they were my weakness.
"What's wrong, sweety? Can't sleep?" I softly ran my hand through her hair.
"I know why you're sending us away, mom and I." She declared, worry painted across her face.
A sigh escaped my lips as the reality of our situation was harder to suppress. To abandon Conor and Ronan in their time of need was out of the question; they were practically family. Yet, I was fully aware of the dangers it might bring to my family. The only sensible thing I could think of was to move them somewhere safer, away from here, till the storm passed.
"I know there is a lot going on right now, and it can be overwhelming. Your safety, and mom's, that's all I want. Nothing is more important than that," I reassured, tenderly caressing her cheek.
"But what about you! You have me really scared, Tori!" Madison protested, tears glistening in her eyes.
Wrapping my arms around her small frame, I tried to calm her, feeling the dampness of her tears seeping through my shirt as she held on to me fiercely.
"I'm gonna be fine, sweetie," I soothed, locking eyes with her tear-streaked ones. "You don't have to worry about me."
The faintest of smiles found its way onto her lips and she gave me a subtle nod.
Rising from the bed with her hand clasped in mine, I gave her forehead a light kiss. "Alright, it's time for you to get some sleep. You have an early flight in the morning."
"Alright. Goodnight then," she returned the smile and moved towards the door. "And Tori, stay safe."
I turned my attention to the cold black tools on the crimson sheets of my bed. A pair of Glock 17s; not the most powerful or glamorous firearms but simple, reliable, efficient, traits that earned my admiration over my years in this business.
There was no feeling of pride or excitement, just the tense anticipation for Goat's phone call. A tense knot of fear gnawed at the pit of my stomach. I felt my heart pounding as I waited by the phone. Images of a small boy, sick and scared in some rundown warehouse, wavered in my mind.
A sharp buzzing jolted me out of my grim thoughts. The burner phone by my side vibrated, shaking with urgency on the nightstand. Goat. His name flashed on the screen in glaring letters.
