Page 28 of Mila: The Godfather

I pull out a cig and spark it up. I take a long drag and watch the scene before me. One that has my blood boiling. Touching the gun inside my holster, I watch the piece of shit holding his gun to the back of a pretty blonde hair. Hair that I know all too well.

A hair belonging to the sweetest and most innocent creature I have ever met.

An innocent.

Mila Areya Parisi.

The hidden jewel.

The youngest Parisi.

A girl with a hit on her head of ten million to the first hitman that pulls the trigger.

Mila lies on the filthy ground next to a dumpster, rocking herself in a fetal position, unaware that this cunt is hovering over her, ready to pull the trigger.

I notice her lovely white summer dress is stained with what seems like grease, and her elbows have red welts on them.

You know… I was going to drag this motherfucker’s death and prolong his pain. That was the plan. What I didn’t plan was losing my head in a public space because I sure as fuck don’t need this kind of heat on me in plain daylight, but then the cunt mocks her and makes her cry out, in return making my blood boil even hotter. And then the fucker had to reach forward and snatch her hat off, startling her and pulling her hair, making her cry out in pain.

A red mist descends over my eyes until all thoughts are of the fucker covered in bullet holes. That’s what I do. Pulling out my gun, I start firing. I run forward, not caring that there are witnesses around us.

I just focus on the screams coming from the sweet girl currently crying on the floor.

Bullet after bullet leave my barrel and slice through red flesh, ripping into the fucker’s liver and lungs, dropping the bastard to the ground. I keep firing.

I walk forward, giving zero fucks that the asshole got a bullet in me before he hit the ground. I got as close to the prick as I could, pressing my barrel to his head, and splattered his brains up the dirty walls of this alley.

I could hear my breath pumping in my ears. Feel my fucking heart pounding in my chest.

Because of the girl.

But I can’t think about this now.

She’s in danger.

Fuck, if I had arrived a moment later, she would be the one with a hole in her head and blood oozing out of her pretty mouth. She’s a target now, and there is no doubt more men like the piece of shit on the dirty ground are coming for her.

Hardening my heart, I step over the dead fucker and move closer toward a now-shaking-uncontrollably Mila.

I know I shouldn’t touch her while she’s like this. I know this, but I am not risking her safety.

Like my heart has been stabbed with a shot of adrenaline, I grab her and run for my car. “Shhh… sweetheart. You’re safe.” I whisper and to my surprise, her whimpers calm and her breathing evens out just enough for me to get her inside the car and away from danger.

“I know you…” she says, looking at me with those pretty eyes that have haunted my dreams for what feels like thousands of nights before she falls unconscious.

Shit.

Shutting the passenger door, I run to the driver’s side, get in, and quickly rev the engine, speeding the hell out of there.

I never ran from anything a day in my life.

Not once.

Not from a challenge or from danger, but for her I do.

Because there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for this girl.

For the girl with a kind heart and the most beautiful smile that managed to pierce my dead heart.

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