Page 31 of The Don's Deadly Assassin

It's the first time I’ve felt this strange responsibility. It’s unnerving and uncomfortable. I believe most people would call it ‘guilt.’

As I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles white with tension, a memory surfaces – one that I've buried deep within the darkest corners of my mind.

"Try again," the Handler orders, his voice cold and unforgiving.

I'm just a child, barely 10, shaking as I hold the knife in my trembling hands. The mother deer stands before me, her eyes and nostrils wide with fear. Her fawn, barely a few weeks old, huddles behind her, instinctively aware of the danger that looms.

"Please... I don't want to do this," I beg, tears streaming down my face.

"You have to learn. She is a weak mother. Weakness is dangerous. Especially in the ones close to us." He shakes his finger in anger, pointing at the doe. "She brought her baby to the house looking to us to feed her. When winter comes, she won’t be able to survive because she took the easy way. Imagine the fawn then, not knowing how to find food because its mother didn’t care to teach it the hard way."

My hands are shaking terribly. Whether from fear of what I have to do or from fear of the consequences if I don’t, I’m not sure.

Regardless, the Handler snarls and grabs my hand in his, forcing the knife to steady. "Do it. Now."

My protests fall on deaf ears. With a final, determined shove, he drives the blade into the animal's heart. Blood stains my hands and the ground around us, turning the once-lush grass into a crimson nightmare.

"Good girl," he says with satisfaction. "Killing is a big responsibility, and now you’ll be ready for it. Together, we will teach the little one to be strong, stronger than its mother."

As I sit in my car, the memory fades, but the emotion remains - guilt. How many innocents have I killed since that fateful day? Vincenzo’s image comes to my mind, but this time, blood flows down his face because I shoot him.

The guilt at that thought makes me feel sick to my stomach, a strange concoction of physical symptoms I can’t hold back. My chest aches, and I feel like I might die. Suddenly, I’m filled with rage – at myself, at the world, at being human. Tears come to my eyes.

I can’t go on living like this. I won’t survive feeling all this.

No wonder the Handler said emotions are a weakness.

Fuck it. I have to think back to who I am and all the kills I’ve reveled in.

I’m going to kill Vincenzo Consolini and be rid of this love-induced angst. Once he’s gone, I’ll be free again. I’ll be back in the Handler’s circle of trust. Life will go back to normal, whatever the hell that means.

Chapter 11

Vincenzo

I stand near the floor to ceiling French windows installed to overlook the fountains and entranceway, my eyes scanning the comings and goings at tonight’s party. In actuality, there’s only the comings.

No one truly wants to leave this place.

The cars are curving out from the driveway, spilling into the street outside my compound. The valets are overworked.

Everyone, and more, has shown up for a night at my estate. After all, Consolini parties are legendary.

So why the hell isn’t she here yet? I feel a stab of disappointment. I threw this whole thing for her, and her alone.

Behind me, I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder. My heart almost slams out of my ribcage as I turn with the biggest smile on my face. “Cam-” but then stop when I notice it’s someone else entirely.

“Vincenzo!” exclaims Ang Tabishiko, heir to an ancient Japanese royal lineage, as she leans forward to kiss each of my cheeks. “I’m grateful for your hospitality today.”

“Of course, your highness,” I murmur, and bow my head in humble respect.

“Come,” she gives me her arm. “Let’s go make the rounds.”

I nod and take her arm, not wanting to be rude. It is my party, after all.

“You’ve been the talk of the party, Vincenzo,” she tells me, watching me from the corner of her eye. “You’ve been brooding, some say. Whatever is the matter?”

Of course they did.

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