Chapter 3

Diego's POV

I struggle to get up and my eyes wander to the pair of the men at the entrance. The two men he brought with him hardly speak. They always loom in the background like shadows. He cuts through the air, repeating the same words, “Follow me.”

My thoughts swirl, trying to make sense of the situation. What's going on? What does he want from me?

I stumble after my uncle, Roberto as he leads me through the dimly lit hallway. The faint sound of my ragged breath echoes in my ears. I'm still struggling to move my legs after being punched severally.

I follow him into his study. A chill room that smells like old books and cigar. The lighting is also dim. He strides ahead, leaving me no time to catch up. Immediately my foot is anchored on the floor, the men shut the door behind us.

He leans by the table, half-seated on it. His face is masked with a sense of urgency, but also has a calm expression. His salt and pepper hair, shaved and neatly combed and his tailored suit gave him the appearance of someone who has nothing to fear. His features are a bit weathered, thanks to his age advancement. Under his polished exterior, I knew what he's made of. He is a mafioso, a cartel kingpin and this is the life he knows.

“Sit if you wish.” He orders, gesturing to the chair before him. My breath is caught in my throat as I lower myself on the chair. My mind continues to race, what's this all about?

The two men who were at the door come closer, standing few inches behind me. I do not look back, but I can feel their gazes piercing through me.

Roberto narrows his eyes as he scans me like a predator. “Do you know why your here?”

“I…” I stutter in a hoarse voice. “I don't know. What is it uncle? Why… Why am I here?

He chuckles, a faint smile plays at the corner of his lips. My stomach churns as I have the feeling that something ominous is brewing. He raises his body from the desk and moves to the chair opposite mine. His smoky gray eyes are directed at me. He caresses his trimmed moustache and then, makes eye contact with the men behind me.

The man moves from his position and heads to the safe in the corner. My eyes follow him, my body still trembling from the uncertainty. He emerges with a leather case in his hand and drops it on the table in front of Roberto.

Reaching for the black leather case, Roberto pulls it closer to himself, opening it slowly. Curiosity urges me to peek inside. My heart skips a bit as I see the gleam of the metal handgun. He holds the weapon in his hand, a sleek silver handgun, its barrel glinted in the faint light. I feel my pulse quicken and I immediately stand up from my seat.

He laughs wryly, amused by my fearful reaction. He drops the gun on the table, the clink of the metal makes my stomach lurch. He tosses the weapon in my direction.

“Pick it up.” He commands. My hand trembles as I try to lower it to the gun on the table. I can't. I take my hand off, folding them across my chest as a sense of terror twisted inside me. Whatever my uncle called me here for, I knew it wasn't good news.

He chuckles in his deep voice. “You're going to kill Cent Rocco. He's a powerful Mafia boss.” His words startle me and I stare at the gun on the table. “He's the man who runs things in this city. End him.” Roberto points towards the gun.

I open my mouth to speak, but shut it immediately. I struggled to process the weight of my uncle's words, hoping that it was just a prank. But his face was sharp and serious and I instantly knew he meant every word. He cleared his throat, bringing me out of my valley of thoughts.

“No I can't,” I shiver, my voice breaking as I spoke. “I can't kill anyone. It's not possible.”

“You don't have a choice.” He fires back at me.

“I'll leave the cartel. I wont—”

Roberto's sudden movement cuts me off. He grabs the gun, pointing it directly at me. I raise my hand in the air, fear clouding every part of me.

“You can't leave. This is your family's legacy.”

His words hit me like a punch as the memory of my parents flooded in. I've tried to bury the pain of loosing them, but yet it surfaces every single moment. This is my parent's legacy but it can never be my legacy.

Roberto continues, his voice cutting through the silence between us. “The Rocco empire is responsible for your parent's death. This is your chance to avenge them.”

I run my hand through my hair, feeling the weight of his words press me down. I know he's right. My parents were gone from me, but I never imagined getting revenge. At least, not in this way.

“No. I can't kill.” My shaky voice comes out as a whisper.

“My decision is final.” He announces, his voice sending a chill down my spine. “If you leave, you'll be dead to this family.”

“Please.” I beg, suddenly feeling weak. My knees were knocking against each other and the torn dress I wore only made me look like someone in distress.

He doesn't flinch. His face is devoid of emotion and then he steps forward. “You owe your parents this.”

The gun stares at me, its cold barrel daring me to pick it up. I can't.

“I've never killed before.” I turn to my uncle who sizes me up before saying anything.

“Like I said, the choice isn't yours.”

I feel the bitter pang of despair. My eyes go bloodshot, desperately searching for a solution and I was sweating despite being in a cold room.

Suddenly, the door slams open with a force. “He won't do it.”