Vincent's thumb traced the scar on Marcus's wrist, the one shaped like a half-moon from a scorpion stinger. The kitchen had gone still; even the rain outside seemed to listen.
"Where's that bastard— i mean your fsther now?" Vincent asked, his voice was almost like growling in rage barely contained.
Marcus met his eyes, flat and final. "Dead."
Vincent's rage melt into confusion and his eyes were now fixed on marcus expecting the explaination. Marcus exhaled, slow, and the memory took over.
FLORENCE, ITALY – 2010
Marcus was twenty, broad-shouldered, eyes already old. Alessandro had summoned the all the top mafia mob boss to the dining hall after a shipment went missing—three million in heroin vanished between Naples and Milan. The table was set for war: silver cutlery, crystal glasses, and Alessandro's rage.
Sofia was now a teenager , she was an nothing like Elisa and Alessandro in fact she is just opposite kind, naive and blessed with a beauty of an angle.
