OO2 - Fallen Angel

11 Years ago, Age 14.

Lorenzo Romano:

Marco and I stayed in the cinema room, trying to ignore the loud argument mother and father were in the middle of. 

The smash of glass sounded, causing me to close my eyes. 

"Don't you think we should check on her?" I sighed, looking over at Marco's deadpan expression. 

"Father would kill you, Lorenzo." he huffed, looking frustrated. 

He wasn't wrong, but I didn't care, I wouldn't stand by and listen to mothers beatings. 

Marco spun a knife between his fingers, a new trick Leonardo had taught him during practice.

I remained unfazed as I stood up. I didn't fucking care what happened, I wouldn't let her go through this any longer. 

I halted as I heard my mother's blood-curdling scream echo through the whole house, bouncing on the marble walls. Fuck. 

I ran towards my fathers' office, not thinking as I kicked the door open harshly, a protective instinct overcoming me. One I wasn't allowed to feel. Made men did not protect, they murdered.

My eyes grew wide in horror, tears stinging against them. 

Time stopped as I stumbled back, My gaze dragging from the blood splattered on the wooden floorboards to the limp body that remained. 

That familiar smell of death filled my senses, metallic, sweet. 

I quickly fell back, hitting the ground with a whimper. I was frozen. My mother's wide eyes stared ahead of her, blood sputtering from her ruby-red coated lips from her favourite lipstick as she gasped. 

Her throat was slit open, flesh gashed apart, blood seeping out of the gash revealing her vocal cords. 

I scrambled to my feet, staring at her in horror. A shard of bloody glass fell onto the floor with a clatter, causing my gaze to meet my father's. 

He stared at me, crazy-eyed. He had killed my mother. 

I snapped back to reality, the muffled sounds quickly came apparent. I was crying, fucking tears. I hadn't cried for as long as I could remember. Made men didn't cry. 

My father stormed towards me, slamming my head to the ground. I groaned, looking at him with horror. 

"You let another disgusting fucking tear fall and I'll poke your fucking eyes out." He spat over me, keeping my head pinned to the ground. 

My horror quickly turned to pure rage, he killed my mother. 

In a swift moment, I spun around, pinning him to the ground by his neck. I reached for my gun in my holster, quickly placing the barrel on his forehead. 

His demeanour immediately shifted, remembering he raised the goddamn devil. 

"What the fuck did you do? What the fuck did you do Giovanni?" I spat, screaming at the top of my lungs.

My voice echoed in the house from the deep force of my yell as I shook the barrel against his forehead, spraying spit onto his face. 

"Put the Fucking gun down, Lorenzo!" He spat, not moving an inch. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You slit her fucking throat, sick bastard!" I growled, spitting in his face.

I had never stood up to him before, I knew this would end badly. 

"You'll regret this, boy." He spat. 

I didn't know what he would do to me after this unless I shot him. I would have. I should have. 

I was about to pull down the trigger when Gabriel, my fathers' bodyguard, ripped me off of him. 

"Get your fucking hands off me," I yelled, fighting against his hold. 

I quickly released myself, but two other bodyguards ran over, gripping my muscular arms in place. 

I wrestled against the large number of bodyguards, seeing pure red.

"He killed her! The sick bastard finally fucking killed her." I spat. 

I shot one of the bodyguards my gaze, and he dropped my arm, stumbling back in fear, utter fear, my mere eyes seemed to have that consistent effect on my enemies.

"Punish him, Gabriel." My father spoke up from behind them. 

✧༺♥༻∞

📍warehouse #67

I grumbled as another punch to my face was thrown, hissing.

I spat out blood as cold sweat dripped from my forehead. I didn't feel shit. I could only see Mother's limp body, her slit open throat all engraved in the back of my mind as some sick reminder that I had failed to protect my own mother. 

I rolled my hand tied with rope behind my back as I sat on the rusty chair in my father's warehouse. 

The bodyguard punched me in the temple, and I groaned. 

"You're an idiot, Lorenzo." He rasped in my ear, throwing a punch across my cheek. 

I felt nothing, no pain as I wrestled my hands a bit further, pulling at the tight, burning rope. 

I chuckled sickly, smirking up at him.

"No, I think you're the fucking idiot, Gabrial." I spat at him- My hands now free.

He paused, pinching his eyebrows together at my sudden confidence. 

I kept chuckling, swaying my head back to knock my dark brown waves out of my face. 

In the blink of an eye, I shot up, grabbing the only gun in his holster, fucking idiot.

Despite the age difference, I towered over him, standing at 6'0 at just 14. 

I gripped his neck, slamming him to the ground, the force of the concrete knocking him out cold. 

Without hesitating I placed the barrel on his forehead, shooting his brains out. 

I felt no remorse as blood splattered, spitting onto his corpse with a sly smirk as brain remained on his suit. I shot up, wiping his blood off my face. 

I looked down at my blood-soaked hand, holding the gun firmly. I put the gun into safety as I placed it into my holster. 

I looked up towards the bodyguards that guarded the doors. My father stood in between them, his face showed slight fear. A hint at the forbidden thing, emotion. 

I smirked sickly in his direction, striding over to him. 

I approached him, staring down at him. He had shrunk over the years, not that he was ever really tall. I huffed out a chuckle. 

"That should have been you, Giovanni." I spat, my expression was beyond dark. 

I looked at Leonardo, then at Romero. They, despite being the supposed most skilled and fearless bodyguards to date, looked horrified.

Romero lowered his gaze, nodding towards me with respect. Leonardo on the other hand, swallowed harshly, lip slightly quivering as he suppressed a gag.

"Watch your mouth boy." He spat. 

My face grew even darker. 

"You killed my fucking mother." I spat down at him, my eyes beyond dark, flickering with insanity. 

"She was weakening you. She was practically asking for it." He shot, avoiding eye contact. 

I didn't hesitate to slam a punch across his face, the force causing him to collapse, body to crumple as he groaned. 

"You raised the devil, Giovanni. And the devil doesn't make fucking exceptions.'' I snarled impossibly coldly.

And for the first time, I truly realised how easy it was to control as I stared into my father's eyes as he coughed.

Fear, he couldn't hide it. It shone right through him like sunlight through a window.

And at that moment, as I remained emotionless, I vowed never to feel a single thing again, towards anything. Feeling emotion was a weakness.

"You, are the weak one. Did you kill her to keep your affair a secret from the famiglia? The fact you were raping her little sister?" I saw his face of utter anger flip a switch to insanity as he shoved me to the ground. 

"Leave!" he growled at the bodyguards, and they did, not wanting to see where this was heading. 

"Oi!" He hissed, staring right at me on the concrete before him.

I groaned as many pairs of hands firmly gripped me, at least 10 guards of my fathers.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Giovanni?" I hissed as I was brutally shoved against the concrete wall, covered in blood and guts from previous killings.

I was held down by the unholy amount of bodyguards feeling my ripped shirt being torn and cut off by one. 

Despite my strength and insanity, I was a 14-year-old being held down by 10 made men– there wasn't an escape. 

"You think I would let you point a fucking gun to my head without punishment, Lorenzo?" He growled as I felt and heard the familiar cracking of a whip.

"You seem to have gotten into your own head. You are not capo yet, boy! Your charm with women means fucking nothing." He hit my inked chest once again. 

I panted, lifting my impossibly icy eyes to his as I felt a bodyguard grip tightly onto my hair, forcing my head in his direction.

I let out a stifled groan as another slash cracked against my chest, the stinging pain lingering for what felt like months, my legs begging to give in. 

"Do you hear me? You aren't a saviour of woman, Lorenzo, you are not a fucking protector! You are a killing machine and nothing more." He spat as I blankly heard a razor going through my hair, shaving off the dark brown-- almost black waves my mother had given me. I clenched my jaw tightly.

"You sick fucking bastard," I growled before the whip hit my chest once more.

I grunted, staying silent as the only sound left was the razor as I stared at him with my insane expression, chunks of hair falling in front of me as I felt warm blood drip down my chest. 

All before I was turned around, the whip slashing and cracking on my back. Again. Crack. Again. Crack. 

I weakly slid down the wall, spitting blood as my hand weakly ran over my buzzed head, coughing up the blood that remained in my mouth. My mother loved my waves, she went on about how handsome they made me look.

I brought my impossibly dark gaze to his own icy eyes, refusing to beg, refusing to ever give in. 

"You have her eyes, Lorenzo. The only difference is hers held fear, and yours hold pure insanity. Im not going to stare into her eyes another fucking day." he hissed, pulling a dagger from his pocket. 

The bodyguards firmly gripped my arms again, holding me so firmly I couldn't move an inch. 

I clenched my jaw, eyes going wide in insanity as I briefly gazed into the dagger that was my future approaching.

"Fucking hell Giovanni! Im your son!" I yelled, hearing it echo against the concrete.

the peace of tranquil light I once saw out of my left eye, quickly turned into a scene of hell-binding darkness-- an action so cruel I wasn't even sure if it was truly happening to me or how my father could bring himself to commit it.

screams so loud faltered out my mouth as he began to drill his dagger Into my eye, stabbing away at the vision I once held.

the pain was immeasurable, so painful, I was sure I was going to die at that moment-- like this couldn't be a reality I was leading which would buy me a life in which I would never see out of my eye again.

Pain, screams, blood. That was all I was aware of as I felt my own father cut my left eye out with his dagger.

"You are a monster, Lorenzo. you are a Romano and nothing will ever change that! now you will look like the monster you are-- inside and out. No woman would want anything to do with a man who's missing a fucking eye!"

My screams of pure agony were so blood-curdling and brutal, I was sure someone across America had heard them. The man I was inside seeped to the surface-- a hideous monster. My charming good looks were all I had left in being a Romano. And they were stolen by my father's vindictive grip to torture me further.

Pure agony, my deep guttural cries as I felt and saw my eye being gouged out by my own father with his favourite dagger I had grown up watching him sharpen. 

All while feeling the familiar hot stream of blood grasping its hot hands on my cheek as it fell, pouring as I wailed until it was all over.

The only vision remaining in my right eye. The left a burning, crimson pool of the reminder my mother was dead– meaning a part of me had to die with her, even if it were just the beautiful blue eyes she had given me. 

But it was caved, only echoing voices remaining and screams shattering through the room that I wasn't aware if they were mine or not. I was now a Romano inside and out.

I refused to let this bastard win, no way I would let him get away with this.

In a trance of insanity and rage, I grabbed the gun as he faced away, a bullet was shot right into his back, sending him straight to the ground as he began screaming.

Fucking coward.

Bullet after bullet– was fired straight into him. His stomach and neck– piercing one right in his own left eye. 

I wasn't exactly sure what I was doing– ears pounding with intense ringing and muffled yells, but any pair of arms that tried to grasp mine were quickly also met with a torturous end of their own. 

I stared at what I had done, that earsplitting ringing in my ears so loud I debated if I had gone deaf. 

Everything around me that once had a life– was killed in cold blood, I was a monster. 

The gun fell out of my trembling hands, just staring at the corpses of the men that I grew up with, all dead at my crimson-stained hands. 

The ringing got louder, it was all I could hear before it wasn't- before the whole world caved in at once like maybe I had met my own end that I deserved. 

I just prayed for one thing. I prayed that Giovanni Romano was dead.

✧༺♥༻∞

Murmurs and utters filled my ears as he slowly became aware of the surroundings that engulfed him. 

I heard one voice that was somewhat familiar, Matteos. 

But the second I tried to focus on what he was saying, I groaned out a scream in pain, feeling the slashes covering his body render.

But most importantly, the headache in my left eye, the disgusting emptiness that filled it. The pressure of it was so intense it felt as if his brain was caving alongside it. 

I peeled open the only eye that wasn't covered, the one that wasn't in agonizing pain.

"Enzo," Matteo spoke, standing alongside Romero and Leonardo. 

"Did I fucking kill him? Is he dead?" I spat. 

The doc forced me back down, trying to calm the situation. 

"Your father passed, Lorenzo. You will be living with Alessandro when you aren't training in the army." He sighed.

I couldn't help but grin, a snicker escaping past my lips. 

Alessandro was my uncle, my god-parent. He was no better of a man than my father, but I now held control over everyone.

"I am sorry Lorenzo. You are capo. There is no man to take your place." the doc muttered.

I was 14 years old and labelled capo of the famiglia.

It was now my job to rule over the Italian mob purely because I was stronger than my own father.

Not like much would be changing– by 10 I was already more ready than my own father to be capo of the famiglia.

I clenched my jaw.

"The fuck did he do to my eye?" I hissed in his direction. 

"You have lost your eye, Enzo. Surgeons are forming a fake one as we speak. No tissue was damaged, and you will look as good as new, but your vision will only come from one eye. Your other wounds will heal with time." he mustered before exiting the room and shutting the door.

I had lost an eye, but I had gained something much more important. The title of a Capo.