Page 12 of The Bonventi Hitman
I watch Luca walk back to Sofia and sit down on the couch beside her and place his hand on her knee. She recoils slightly.
"Sofia, darling, Gabriel and I have some important business to attend to. I'll be back in the morning, so try and get some rest. In the meantime, Sammy will be stationed outside the door to keep you safe," Luca says, smiling. "If you need anything, just let him know."
Sofia nods, her eyes don't shift from the fireplace. I can see the uncertainty in her face, but there's nothing I can do about it. I clench my fists as I stand across from them, trying to keep the frustration from showing on my face.
Luca stands and gestures for me to follow him. I hesitate for a moment, but then reluctantly turn and walk out of the suite. As we leave, I can't help but cast one last glance at Sofia, her life now enveloped in Luca's protective embrace. I feel a slight pangof jealousy stab me, but I ignore it, reminding myself of my duty to the family and the importance of what's to come.
ANNA - 5
Luca places his hand on my leg, and I jerk slightly. I feel a sense of unease as his fingers brush against my skin. His touch turns my stomach, and I can't help but think of the FBI files I've seen with his face plastered on them. I know he's high up in the Bonventi family and a very dangerous man.
My heart starts beating faster when he tells me he's leaving and that he'll be back in the morning.
I can't leave? What about Gabriel?
As the men leave, I lock eyes with Gabriel across the room. His expression is unreadable, but I see the muscle twitching in his clenched jaw.
The door slams shut, their muffled voices fading down the hall until there's only silence.
I let out a deep breath and sink back into the couch. My mind is racing, trying to process everything that's happened in the past few hours. The party, the hit, Bill's death - it's all too much.
I close my eyes. I need to focus, to think clearly. I can't afford to make any mistakes, not when I'm now this close to the Bonventi family.
I stand, and my legs are heavy. I cross the room, removing my heels as I go, and feel the cool tile on my sore feet.
I'm greeted by a large bed adorned with plush linens and pillows, a thick rug covering the floor, and a view of the Chicago skyline.
The bathroom is fitting for the suite, with floor-to-ceiling marble, a deep soaking tub, and a glass-enclosed shower complete with multiple shower heads. I run my fingers over the smooth countertop, taking in the array of expensive toiletries and grooming tools. I'm almost positive the size of this bathroom is more than half of my apartment.
I turn on the faucet, letting the water run over my hands, trying to wash away the memories of the night's events. But it's no use. I look up and stare at my reflection in the mirror. For the first time, I notice I have specks of red on my dress - blood.
My stomach churns as I realize how unprepared I feel.
Suddenly, images of Bill's lifeless body flash before me.
The scene plays again, inescapable - yelling, gunfire, Bill's dead eyes staring back at me as he lay on the floor. The coppery stench of blood fills my nostrils. I can't escape it. I clutch the counter, fighting panic as the room starts to spin.
I reach for a towel, drying my hands and wiping my dress, the white towel shows streaks of red as I scrub parts of my dress. Somehow it doesn't remove the blood, just spreads it, and I stop and throw the towel in the corner.
I walk over and collapse onto the bed, my body starts to tense up, and I know what's coming.
I start to sob uncontrollably. The dam finally breaks, and I can no longer contain the wave of grief crashing over me as my mind and body finally process what's happened.
The loss of Bill, my partner and mentor, hits me like nothing I've ever experienced. He was the one who was supposed to guide me through this, to help me navigate this mission. But now he's gone, and I'm left to fend for myself.
I tell myself through it all,I'm strong, but I need this moment. I need to grieve.
Doomed thoughts seep into my mind. I feel utterly alone, left in the world of criminals and killers in the dark without my light. No one to turn to, no trusted ally or advisor to guide me. One wrong step, one false move, and I'll end up another lifeless body on a cold slab beside Bill. The mission has gotten infinitely more dangerous, and I question whether I'm truly ready for this.
I lay there, motionless, eyes puffy, exhausted from my grief. I feel drained, hollow, numb. It's as if I've cried out every last drop of sorrow, of fear, of overwhelming despair that I have to offer the world. And oddly, I feel some clarity starting to take shape.
Bill is gone, that much is certain. As much as I rage against it, as much as I would give anything to rewind time, his death is a fact. My mentor, my friend - cut down without mercy by these depraved Russian assholes. But his memory will live on in me. I am his legacy now, his final piece in this unfinished operation.
I sit up slowly, pushing aside damp stray hairs from my face as I straighten my shoulders. There will be time to mourn himproperly later, when this is all over. But for now, I need to set aside the grief and channel the rage simmering in my veins.
These animals didn't just kill what they thought was an Irish mobster tonight. In their arrogance, in their mindless bloodlust for more, they took out an undercover federal agent, and for that, they will pay. Bill didn't die for nothing - his sacrifice lit the fuse that will ultimately burn them to the ground.
This mission is no longer just about justice - it's about proving myself, about belonging to something greater.
