Page 36 of Scar

“She did this,” he snarls, still pacing back and forth like a predator trapped in a cage. “Our own mother. She's behind this. That conniving, treacherous bitch!” Each word drips with venom and hatred.

“Brando,” I interject calmly, trying to soothe him before he does something rash. “It would be easy to point fingers at her, but we need to stay focused. If she's not involved, our enemies will take advantage of our distraction.”

His fists clench and unclench, arms straining with tension as he struggles to contain his anger. “How can you have any doubts about her? It's obvious she did this! Our own blood.”

“Think, Brando,” Lucky chimes in, and I silently groan. He's only making things worse. But he could be right.

At Lucky's suggestion, Brando stops pacing and slams his fist into the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster. “How could shedo this? How could she betray us like this?” His voice breaks, the anger now mixed with a deep sense of betrayal. “We’re her sons, for God's sake!”

“We stopped being her sons when she betrayed us,” Rafi adds from his spot in the corner of the room. He stands silently brooding, while we all try to make up for our mother's absence and lessen the blow for him. But today, as I hear the bitterness and spite in his voice, I think that perhaps he was better off without her all along.

My top priority is keeping my brothers under control. Their anger simmers like a volcano, ready to erupt at any moment and spill onto the streets. To prevent a potentially bloody outcome, I keep them confined within the walls of our compound for now. We need more information before we can act against whoever ordered the hit on us and why.

Brando's temper is the most explosive. He paces back and forth, his fists clenched, and his face twisted in a permanent scowl. Sometimes he takes out his frustration by punching the air or slamming his hands against the wall, the sound echoing throughout the building. “We have to strike back, harder than they did,” he declares through gritted teeth, his eyes burning with anger.

Lucky is unusually quiet. He sits in the corner, methodically cleaning his guns as if preparing for battle, his usual humor replaced by cold determination. “When we find out who did this, I'm going to make them pay,” he says in a low voice, devoid of any light-heartedness. “No one messes with the Gatti family and gets away with it.”

Rafi is restless and can't stay still for long. He fidgets constantly and paces around, clearly impatient with how long it's taking to get answers. “What’s taking so damn long?” he demands, frustration evident in his voice. “Sitting around here is driving me crazy.”

I understand their anger all too well. It burns silently inside of me too, threatening to consume me if I let it. But I know that we can't afford to lose control. We must remain calm if we want to uncover who attacked us and seek revenge.

For now, our compound serves as both our refuge and our base of operations. It's where I can keep an eye on my brothers and where we can regroup and plan our next move. Every day, I gather what little information I can, trying to piece together the puzzle of who is behind the attack and their motives. It's a slow and frustrating process, and I can see the tension growing in my brothers' eyes with each passing day.

The weight of our situation hangs heavily on all of us, consuming every conversation with anger and danger. We are like a powder keg, one wrong move away from exploding and destroying everything we've built.

A war is looming, and I can sense it deep in my bones. It hangs heavy in the air, a palpable tension that cannot be ignored. This time, however, our enemy is unknown, faceless. It could be anyone – the Lucianis, our own mother, even the Irish mob who have been unsuccessful in gaining a foothold in our city despite their best efforts.

Our enemy taunts us from the shadows as we scramble to gather information and devise a plan. All we know for sure is that a full-scale war is on the horizon, one that will inevitably lead to bloodshed and loss of life. We must prepare accordingly, but not having a clear understanding of our opponent's identity makes it difficult to anticipate their moves.

Thankfully, we have strength in numbers and strong alliances forged over the years. We have friends in high places who would come to our aid if needed, with no ulterior motives or desire to engage in warfare with us. This knowledge brings some comfort as we strategize and navigate our way through another mafia turf war.

As the days go by, I focus on channeling my brothers' anger into something productive. We set up a makeshift shooting range in the basement, soundproofed to muffle the sounds of gunshots. During our outdoor training sessions, we are always guarded by a battalion of men. It's not an ideal situation, but it helps keep their inner demons at bay.

Ironically, Allegra has become the glue that holds us together. Her time spent in the basement practicing her aim with Rafi has helped to calm his inner turmoil. He's always been the cool-headed one among us, but this situation has even pushed him to breaking point. During the day, Allegra trains with us tirelessly, unaware of the danger that looms over our future. She inspires my brothers to do better and be stronger, urging them to look beyond their resentment at being confined.

As we finish another long day of training, I lower my gun and remove my earmuffs. We're all exhausted from the intense physical exertion. I order everyone out of the basement to shower and rest, planning to do the same myself. All I want is to hold Allegra close and lose myself in her warmth.

I join Allegra in the shower unexpectedly, catching her off guard. I support her tired body with an arm around her waist as she starts to doze off. It's been days since we've been intimate, and every fiber of my being craves her touch.

“Baby,” I whisper into her ear as I move closer to her. She moans as I press her against the tiles and hook one of her legs around my hip.

I enter her effortlessly, pushing so deep that I have to lift onto my toes to hit her walls. Finding my rhythm, I start to rock back and forth slowly until I can't hold back any longer. Her moans are like music to my ears as I pick up the pace, lifting her leg higher and digging my hands painfully into her thigh.

“Fuck. Harder, Scar. Deeper,” she gasps.

I thrust even deeper, feeling like I could tear her apart with every movement. Her hands grip onto my shoulders, nails digging into my skin as I continue to pump inside of her. She starts to lose control, emitting deep ragged gasps and screaming my name as she bites down on my shoulder. With one final powerful thrust, she crashes against the tiles, and I release all my pent-up tension, filling her with my seed.

I’m sitting in the armchair in a corner of the room watching her sleep. The curtain sways against the balcony door with the gentle breeze. She stirs, murmurs something, then turns over, flinging her arm above her head restlessly.

My stalkerish behavior takes me by surprise, but I can’t stop watching her as she sleeps. The minute she opens her eyes and turns to find the space next to her cold, I rise from the chair and walk toward her.

I’m naked as I slip into the bed beside her, her eyes going wide as I lift the sheet and throw it across the bed. We won’t be needing that where we’re going. Her eyes follow mine as I prop a pillow behind my head and sit up in the bed, looking down at her as she lies by my side. My hand curls around my cock and I give her a lazy smile as I pump up and down slowly.

“You hungry, baby?”

She licks her lips as her eyes drop to my throbbing cock. She watches as I continue to fist my cock, then slide my hand from the base up to the tip, where I wipe the precum and use it to lube my skin as I fist fuck myself. Her eyes alone are doing things to me I can’t explain; their hunger urging me to pump harder. Her fire ignites my soul, her attention focused on me as I feel my explosion nearing.

When she reaches out a hand and flicks my hand away, my cock stands at full mast, slapping angrily at my stomach. She inches closer, her eyes on me the whole time, before she takes my cock in her mouth and uses her mouth to stroke it. Her tongue lashes out at the base as she takes it all in, darting out at the sensitive skin then running back up my length. I watch her, my breaths erratic, as I climb and climb and climb, my climax imminent. I push her head down onto my cock only seconds out from coming, until she’s taking me in all the way, and I know. I know she could gag on my cock. I’m so far in, I hit the back of her throat, but she doesn’t fight me. Instead, she digs her nails into my thighs and pushes down harder, until she’s almost swallowing me whole. And I detonate in her mouth, like a geyser gone haywire. And she takes it all, like the good little girl she is, and swallows every last drop of my cum. Like she does every time.

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