Entangled With The Merciless Mafia Don

ELENA

THERE WAS SOMEONE IN OUR APARTMENT.

It was a cold night, the type which made sense to party and drink all through—which was exactly what I did—but it was a little past 3am, and I was wasted. My vision was blurry, and the world was spinning. I had managed to come home alone, and now I was at the door, but I couldn't get myself to go in.

“Marco!" His name rolled off my tongue.

My brother, Marco would NEVER leave the front door wide open. He knew the risks we faced by living out here, isolated from the entire city, and hence, he was always security conscious.

Therefore, it was very clear. Either someone had broken into our apartment to rob us, or we had been attacked. Either way, this was very wrong timing; I am drunk for crying out loud.

I placed my hand on the wall for support, as I tried to steady myself. I took three deep breaths, hoping to at least have a clear vision. “Come on, Elena. Why did you have to drink so much?" I berated myself, taking a step inside.

I normally don't drink, I barely even leave the four walls of our apartment, but I had this huge fight with Marco, and it was getting difficult to breathe comfortably around him, so I just had to take a break from everything to clear my head.

Now, I wish I didn't.

I barely made it through the doorway when the house shook with a loud sound echoing from one of the rooms. My eyes widened.

Was that a gunshot?

My stomach turned at that moment, and I doubled over our little plant at the door. Everything I had eaten the previous day came gushing out in a disgusting shade of yellow. I tried to get a grip of myself but it was futile. I couldn't stop until it felt like I was trying to throw up my intentions.

As I stood to my full length, for a minute, everywhere seemed to be spinning. When it finally stopped, my eyes fell on a figure in black. He was hurriedly leaving a room I immediately recognized as Marco's, and when he saw me, he froze.

I too, couldn't move. “Who… who are you?” I blurted out.

Everything happened too fast, way too fast for a drunk and wasted me to comprehend. He pulled a gun at me, and I froze into place. His finger was dangerously close to the trigger, and I definitely was not ready to die. The next minute, however, I felt sick and had another episode of unpleasant retching.

When I looked back up, he was gone. I stayed still for what felt like hours, groaning loudly. Then I remembered the sound I had heard earlier, and my mind drifted to Marco.

“Marco!" I shot to my feet, ignoring the pain that soared through my entire body.

My eyes ran through the living room, and it was only then that I noticed its state. It looked like World War III had happened in here. Almost everything was broken.

“Oh God! Marco!" I exclaimed, yet again.

Finding my way through the corridor, I reached his room. The door was closed, but the second I leaned on it, it made way with this creaky sound that I never heard before.

My brain stopped, and so did my heart. “No…”

My feet failed me at this point, and I crumbled to the floor.

Lying there, in the middle of the partially destroyed room, was my elder brother and best friend… in a pool of blood.

No!

“Elena…” I heard his voice, and I immediately crawled to him.

“Marco, you're alive. You're…” My eyes fell on his chest, stained with blood and still bleeding profusely. I pressed my hand over it, not minding the fact that my hand would be stained.

His face was pale, his eyes held a look that was totally different from the Marco I knew. He reached for my hand, tiredly. "Elena, I…"

“No, no, don't say anything. I'll call the ambulance right away. You'll survive, you'll be fine." I tried to rise, but he pulled me right back.

"No. There's… there's no need. I won't make it." He drawled.

The tears fell from my eyes in torrents. “No! Marco, no. You can't leave me."

I saw a tear fall from his eyes, and my heart broke even more. “I'm sorry, Elena."

I shook my head rapidly. “No, don't apologize. I'm sorry. I should have listened to you. I shouldn't have gone to that party like you said, it's all my fault."

The room felt silent, broken only by my quiet sobs. He squeezed my hand with the last bit of energy he had.

“I'm going to join mother and father. We'll be watching over you, so make us proud, little sis.”

No! “Marco, who did this to you? I'll take revenge, tell me." My voice was shaky. "You can't leave me. You…”

“You have to leave now, Elena. Conner will help you, get a life for yourself. I'm always with you, Elena." The way his voice trailed off told me the hurtful truth I didn't need to know.

“Marco, no!" I buried my face on his chest, letting the tears fall. My heart was shattering, each second made it worse.

I heard him whispering, and I edged closer to hear him. “Luca… Luca Moretti…”

"What? What did he do? Is he responsible for this?” I asked all at once.

He didn't respond. The slow rise and fall of his chest came to a stop, and so did my heart for a moment.

My brother was dead!

I did everything I knew about resuscitation. Clamping my hands together, and pressing down on his chest like I had seen on TV.

“Marco please," I pleaded, the tears stinging. I didn't stop pushing, I just needed a pulse—a hopeless hope.

“Marco, please…please, you can't just leave me. You promised… you promised. It's me and you against the world, remember? Marco… please…” I trailed off, the rest of the words getting stuck in my throat.

I stared at his blood all over my hands, like I was the one who killed him. My heart was broken into more than a million pieces, and the pain was much more than any physical pain I had ever felt.

My eyes fell on my brother's now cold palm. In it was a black object. I reached for it, a gasp escaping my lips as my eyes fell on the symbol engraved on the tag. It was a symbol everyone knew.

The Morettis.

Luca Moretti.

They did this!

***

LUCA'S POV

I stood by the glass windows, my hands buried in my pockets, staring at the night view of the city.

My city!

My phone rang loudly, breaking the silence of the room. I glanced at it, my eyes darkening as I saw the caller.

Heaving, I tapped the “Accept" button. “Speak!"

“He has been taken care of, sir."

I ended the call, tossing the phone aside. With my chin lifted, I resumed my position, with just one thought racing through my mind.

My name is Luca Moretti, and I get whatever I want.