Page 4 of The Hitman's Rose

“You’re so mysterious. And sexy,” she winks then leaves the room, closing it behind her.

“Do you know why I’m here?” I ask Puddo.

“Because of that schmuck Giovanni.”

“Mind your tone or I’ll make your death far from swift,” I growl.

“Do your worst,” he smirks. “My men will torture you, when they find you.”

“The same idiots that let me walk right by them and into your room?” I grin. He looks at me in disgust only adding to my satisfaction of getting under his skin.

“Fuck you.”

“Make peace with your maker. I’ll allow you a few seconds to pray.”

“To pray?” he laughs dramatically. “What kind of hitman lets his victim pray? You’re a sick fuck. You know that?”

“I’ve been called far worse,” I smirk. “On your knees.”

He looks at me as though he’s going to protest or perhaps even put up a fight. However, he climbs off the bed and gets on his knees. A sight I will never be able to get out of my mind.

Fat, sloppy bastard,I mutter to myself.

Shaking my repulsion from seeing him naked, I stand behind him. The barrel of my silencer presses against his head. His body is shaking. Just like the others, the tough guy act always fades when reality sinks in.

“Ave, o Maria, piena di grazia, il Signore è con te. e benedetto è il frutto del tuo seno, Gesù. Santa Maria, Madre di Dio, prega per noi peccatori, adesso e nell'ora della nostra morte,” Puddo prays loudly.

“To yourself. I don’t want to hear those words,” I scowl.

It’s one thing for him to make peace with his maker, but it’s another for me to hear the words. It seems… wrong. Not that it’ll change my actions. I’ve sworn my allegiance and blood to Giovanni Tacchelli. Whatever he asks of me, I will do.

“È fatta” I say, squeezing the trigger lightly and taking the life of Lorenzo Puddo.

I place the long stem rose on the back of Lorenzo’s head. The petals absorb his blood, tainting the beautiful rose; however, it will be the last thing he’ll ever ruin.

Good fucking riddance. Piece of shit.

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