Page 3 of Unspoken Ties

Ettore

Ihad heard rumors of Hilaria Alto’s painfully shy demeanor, but no one had ever mentioned how stunning she was. Nothing could have prepared me for the breathtaking beauty that greeted me. As she spoke, her thick, dark lashes fluttered around her wide, blue eyes. Her delicate features held a timeless charm, like a porcelain doll brought to life. From her rosy cheeks to the curve of her lips, every aspect of her was strikingly attractive.

It was a symphony of captivating allure, a masterpiece of flawless features that could incite armies to battle and render artists speechless. It was a sight that would hold a place in the archives of history, a timeless perfection that would leave even the gods envious.

How had no one ever spoken of her beauty? Instead, people said she couldn’t even meet someone’s gaze while speaking to them, her eyes always darting to the ground or seeking refuge in a nearby object. People spoke of her like a frightened fawn, timid and easily startled.

I wasn’t seeing that version of her at all. In that moment, all I could see was her anger, boiling over like a pot left on the stove for too long. She planted her foot forcefully into the ground, creating a small, invisible crater beneath it, a physical manifestation of her frustration. Her eyes pierced into mine, narrowed into sharp slits that seemed to shoot daggers at me.

“Sorry about that,” I replied nonchalantly.

She parted her lips as if to speak, but then abruptly closed them. I could sense the weight of her thoughts, the way she was carefully considering each and every word before allowing them to escape her mouth. She seemed hesitant, as if afraid of uttering something she might later regret.

“Why am I here?”

Part of the reason I hadn’t spoken to her was because I wasn’t sure how to broach the topic at hand. No matter how delicately I approached the situation, the news would never be easy to swallow. But there was no point in sugarcoating it, so I decided to just be blunt.

“Your father is dead,” I said.

“Wh-what?” All the anger rid from her face and was replaced by a look of uncertainty. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” I responded. “He finally pissed off the wrong people this time.”

Leone’s ego had gotten too large, and that’s probably what got him killed. The man thought he would never be killed, as he was the most powerful Mafioso with the strongest connections in the underworld. As it turned out, he had some pretty strong rivals, too.

We didn’t know who did it. But, unfortunately for us, it happened on our turf. We needed to clean up the situation before the cops showed up or the wrong people came sniffing around.

“Got a picture to prove it,” Felix said from across the room. “Wouldn’t suggest looking.”

The clean-up job Felix had been talking about was Leone’s body. Normally, I would never have made someone of his rank do a job like that. But it was a little too close to The Underground Vault, a club that was one of our biggest moneymakers, and I wanted it taken care of ASAP.

“I-I will.” Hilaria straightened her body, but I could still see her trembling in fear. “I still don’t believe you. You…you must want something from us.”

“That is not a good idea,” Felix mumbled, mostly to himself.

If she thought she could be an adult, I’d let her act like one. But as the daughter of a dead Mafia boss, she was about to discover just how ruthless this world truly was. It was time for her first taste of harsh reality, a jolt that would shake her naïve perceptions to their core.

“Go on,” I said to Felix.

Felix looked at me, silently asking me if he really wanted him to do this. The scene had been gruesome. I hadn’t received the full details yet, but from what I understood, it was a grenade blast. His right arm and leg had been blown off and parts of him were completely missing.

I nodded in response. Felix hesitated for a moment, but eventually opened his phone and made his way over to Hilaria. Despite her previous statement that she wanted to see what was on the screen, I could sense her hesitation as he approached. As her eyes fell upon the display, they widened in shock and disbelief. Suddenly, she doubled over and retched uncontrollably, her body physically rejecting whatever she had just witnessed on the phone. The sound of her violent heaves echoed through the room, adding an eerie layer to the already tense atmosphere.

“God damnit,” Felix said. Hilaria hadn’t exactly had aim when she vomited, and part of it was on the toes of his shoes. “I knew we shouldn’t have showed her!”

“She’s going to have to toughen up,” I responded, watching her finish expelling the rest of her dinner.

“I would prefer she not ‘toughen up’ on my shoes.”

The retching subsided and was replaced by broken sobs. Each breath she took came in ragged gasps, the sound of her pain echoing through the empty room. Her tears fell like rain, leaving trails down her flushed cheeks and dampening her hair. She clutched at her chest, as if trying to keep her heart from breaking along with her body.

“Quit crying,” I told her. “There are important things we need to discuss.”

The words fell upon deaf ears as she continued to sob uncontrollably. Her cries echoed through the room, rising in volume with each passing moment. Frustrated by her lack of response, I strode over to her. With a swift motion, I snapped my fingers just inches from her tear-stained face, desperate to break through the haze of her emotions and capture her attention.

“Pay attention,” I commanded her. “I’d suggest you’d stop your crying, because you’re the luckiest person in NYC tonight.”

She tilted her head, tears streaming down her cheeks like rivers of despair. Her expression was a mixture of confusion and disbelief - how could anyone possibly consider themselves lucky in the midst of such a dire situation? The corners of her mouth trembled as she struggled to hold back sobs and make sense of it all.

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