Page 179 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

Dad’s expression slowly morphs from one of disdain to one of utter helplessness and despair. He recoils slightly at my words, blinking fast as if he questions whether or not they are really hanging in the tense air between us.

As if he questions whether or not his little girl, his only daughter, just said the very worst possible ones imaginable.

Reality smacks me in the face like a rubber glove.

I did.

And from the look on his pale, shocked face, they brutalized him like spikes slicing right through his flesh, shredding him from the outside in.

I’ll never forget the look on his face in that moment…

In the instant I broke my father’s heart.

CHAPTER8

SERGIO

Istare at Enrico’s pale face, a deep sigh shuddering through me.

He’s a kid, dammit. He should never have been dragged into the shit that we call real life.

Enrico ended up on my crew after I picked him up trying to steal food from one of our restaurants back in Sicily a few years ago. He was trying to take care of his family as the man of the house since his father died. But the guy was barely a man himself and he didn’t have two sticks to rub together for fire.

As soon as I figured out we were being robbed, I stood watch in the shadows to find the person who was responsible. I saw him show up night after night, taking whatever he could carry when he thought nobody was paying attention. I admired his will and his stealth, which never faltered, even in the face of starvation.

And when I finally confronted him, making bullshit death threats I knew I’d never carry out just to see how he’d react, he accepted his fate. He apologized for disrespecting me. He didn’t beg for his life or cry like a bitch. He just asked me to let him take food to his family one more time…the last time…so at least they could eat that night.

I knew right then and there that he was a guy I wanted to have on my crew. He wouldn’t crack under pressure, he’d stare adversity in the eye and do whatever it took to protect what was important.

He was a guy I could trust. I mean, as much as I can trust anyone.

I gave him a job on the spot and he hasn’t disappointed me once.

But I sure as hell failed him tonight.

He survived the bullet wound. Thankfully it wasn’t a kill shot. Doc was able to dig it out and stitch him up. I eye the IV funneling fluid into his body, my chest tightening.

That bullet could have punctured any number of organs as it ravaged his insides, all because I was dead-set on making a nonexistent deal.

Because I was greedy and looking for approval from the other families.

And because I wanted to build my own future, not have it assigned to me by anyone else.

I convinced the families to let me negotiate, figuring that cash is always king.

I was wrong.

Maybe not everyone can be bought after all.

Torres didn’t care about my offer. He has no intention of selling. He only wanted to get me in there, face to face, so he could tell me that the power I’m desperate to claim will never be mine.

He played his hand like the sneaky, cutthroat bastard he is, and I didn’t call his bluff in enough time to salvage my own.

My blood simmers as his smug smirk flashes in my mind.

Did he really think he could get away with that fucking stunt? That we’d scatter like cockroaches after the hit, running into the darkness without a look back? That we’d let him fucking live after unsuccessfully trying to kill us?

Not such a brilliant plan, Torres, especially when we could crush you without breaking a sweat.

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