Page 3 of Mafie Kings

His beaming smile makes me feel proud. “Hey there, Little Warrior, I have missed that sarcastic mouth of yours,” he chuckles under his breath, “but this call is actually about something else.” His face turns serious, dampening the mood of our conversation instantly.

I roll my eyes at him trying to bring some light energy back into the conversation. “Well, spit it out. I've never been all that good at reading minds.”

He takes a deep breath and says, “I found him.”

I sit and stare at the phone in stunned silence. This is what I've been waiting years for.

So why does it not feel good to hear those words?

I shake away the thought and try to clear my head enough to come up with a reply. “What's the plan? I'm ready.”

“Oh, I have never doubted that, you’ve been ready since you were eleven years old.” He wets his lips, concern and worry cross his features. “This one is going to be about playing the long game. Do you think you can do that Little Warrior? Do you think you can maintain that practiced control long enough to get to your mark? Or is this too personal for you?”

I know he's only asking because he's concerned about me, but there is a lot I have endured in this life, and he damn well knows that. I've played the long game before; I can do it again.

“I can do this. I know I can,” I say with confidence. “I've worked hard for this moment. This job, it’s mine.”

He gives me a proud smile. “Right answer. Now pack your things and get home tonight. We have a lot to go over.”

“You won't be disappointed,” I tell him, trying to sound stronger than I feel at the moment.

“You could never disappoint me. I'll see you soon.” He ends the call, and I find myself frozen staring at the screen.

This is it. This is everything I’ve been waiting for. Everything I’ve wanted since that fateful day. I walk back into the bathroom and look in the mirror as I take off my robe.

I’m not what most would call skinny. I have curves, in fact, my big ass happens to be my favorite thing about myself. My arms are on the thicker side but toned with muscle from training, and my thighs are bulky yet muscular. My long, silver hair sticks to my skin as I pull it free from the towel.

I stand tall, squaring my shoulders. This is the moment everything changes.

???

I walk up to the three-story mansion with a smile on my face. This place might not have been where I grew up, but it has a certain comfort of home nonetheless. I let myself into the front door and remove my shoes. I take my bag to my room on the third floor and toss it on the bed.

If I know my uncle, he'll be watching a game in his sitting room. I hear the game when I reach the bottom of the stairs, and I walk in to find him sitting in his leather recliner with his suit still on from the meetings he must have attended today. His sleeves are rolled up and he has a cigar in his mouth. If I didn’t know he was only in his mid-forties, I would have assumed by his behavior that he was in his seventies. His newspaper sits on the coffee table and his evening espresso is set off to the side.

My uncle is one of those men that looks intimidating. As a kid, I thought he looked like a Viking warrior with how tall and built he is. Tattoos cover most of his body and his white-silver hair is always trimmed to perfection.

He hears me walk in and jumps up to greet me.

“Little Warrior,” he says, pulling me into a bear hug. Someone’s in a happy mood.

“Uncle,” I say with a smile, hugging him back tightly. We’ve both been busy and on opposite schedules most of this month, but it’s nice to finally be back home. I sit in the recliner next to his while he turns off the television.

“What do you have for me?” I ask, sitting forward in anticipation.

“Alright, straight to business it is then,” he says with a chuckle. “Robert will bring out some snacks soon, but we can get started now.” He pulls out a stack of files from under the coffee table and spreads them out.

“You will be attending Mafie University undercover,” he leads with.

I look at him like he’s an idiot. MU is a discrete training college created for the children of the regime in the criminal underworld. It’s one year of fast-track training in everything that has to do with maintaining an illegal organization, as well as extra skills like high-speed driving and flying all sorts of aircraft. There are classes on torture and poisons, weapons training, and hacking. It’s extremely exclusive, and you have to receive a special invitation to be admitted. It’s not a college you can just apply for.

“How the fuck am I supposed to get in there?” I ask, seriously doubting his sanity with this idea. “Not to mention, how could I get in under a fake identity?”

The society tied to this school is the one that helps create half the fake identities around the world.

“Hey now, you’ve seen what I'm capable of. Do you really think I couldn't get you a slot?” He questions, a cocky smile plastered across his face.

“Okay, say you do get me in, what’s your plan then?” I ask, going along with his crazy idea.

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