Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2.

Ghost alighted the taxi with a rush, running up the stairs into one of the Carianno mansions.

It was one exquisite building and damn eye-catching, the last place Mafias should hold meetings. It was too obvious, anyone could burst in on them.

But then again, the Cariannos weren't your "typical" Mafia family. They had nothing to hide. There was no one to cower from. They could literally get into a killing spree on the highway and no one would try to fight back. That was how much they dominated the area. That was how dreaded they were.

“Sixth floor!“ Scar shouted, sprinting slightly so he could ride the elevator with Ghost. They both got in and Scar punched the sixth-floor button.

Ghost ran a hand through his jacket for his gun. It wasn't there. He did a double-check, but nothing.

“Fuck!“ He cussed, recalling he left it in his hotel room. Camilla was being fucking annoying with her clinginess. He needed to get away from her as fast as he could. And he'd forgotten to take his gun with him.

“What's wrong?“ Scar asked, eyeing him closely, “You need something?”

Scar was his wingman and the second-in-command in his growing division. Always at his service, like he should be.

“No,” Ghost replied. He checked for his dagger and yeah, he had it with him. The elevator door opened and they headed to the room.

Scar opened the huge, iron door and they got engulfed in the darkness. It was a large room, with a tiny light shining from the ceiling. Heads turned to them as they all fell silent.

Ghost took out his dagger, holding it in a tight grip. Even in the dark, he could see clearly, like it was daylight. It was one of the odd things about him.

“You're two hours late, jerk!“ Sergio growled, standing and turning to face Ghost, his Italian accent reeked with resentment, “Who the hell do you think you are to make us wait for two hours?!”

Ghost approached him with a brisk walk, tightening his grip on the dagger.

Halfway through his rant, Sergio was cut off by a grunt of pain beside him. He froze.

“That's for the prank you pulled on me,“ Ghost seethed, forcing the dagger deeper into Bruno's gut. Bruno was Sergio's second-in-command.

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?!“ Sergio raked, watching the blood seep from his man's body.

“The only reason this dagger isn't pierced into your chest is because of your last name. But don't push your luck next time. I might just forget you're a Carianno,“ Ghost said coldly into Sergio's ears. He forcefully pulled out the dagger and Bruno collapsed on the floor. Dead.

Scar rolled Bruno's corpse out of the meeting room, shutting the door behind him.

With a cold smirk, Ghost wiped off the blood with Sergio's shirt. He was daring him to react, but Sergio knew better.

“That's what I thought, coward,“ Ghost snorted, shoving past him to his seat.

Don Carianno had a calm look on his face when Ghost took a seat next to him. He had a vape in front of him and was taking in the smoke and puffing it into the air.

“You're late, Son,“ Don Carianno said, leaning closer to Ghost, “But it's all good. You're worth the wait,“

“What?!“ Sergio snapped unbelievably, “He made us wait for two hours. That's rude and fucking disrespectful. How can you overlook that?“

“Because he ended our Irish nightmare and got us a new region to dominate,“ Don Carianno said, placing a newspaper on the table. It had a headline that read OVER TEN THOUSANDS IRISH LIVES LOST IN AN EXPLOSION.

“And he's the only Capo who brings good cash on the table,” Don Carianno added, grinning at Ghost, then he turned to Sergio, “So tell me, nephew, is he worth the wait or not?“

Sergio fell silent and slumped on his chair, feeling dejected. Once again, he failed in making Ghost lose face with Don.

Sergio "Viper" Carianno was the only relative of Don Carianno. Based on his logic, he deserves everything in the Mafia world, even things he didn't work for.

And he was getting it all, not until Ghost showed up and snagged up the spotlight and love of everyone. Ghost became the favorite son, and he was the forgotten one. It was a hard pill to swallow, and he vowed to get back his spotlight at all costs.

Sergio was an underboss and should be The Boss after his uncle retires. But he fears the Mafia might want Ghost to take up the position. And that's what scares him the most. All his life, he wanted to be The Boss.  He'll be damned if he loses the position to Ghost.

More than that, Ghost was an American. Even though he had no memories of his past life, his features were enough proof. The Carianno family was made up of Italians, Ghost was the only American. Another reason Sergio wanted him out.

“Am I worth the wait or not, Viper?“ Ghost taunted him, flashing him a half-assed smile. Sergio said no words but just flashed him a glare.

“Of course, you are,“ Riccardo "Iceman" Dante replied with a throaty laugh, “And besides, we all know you were with Camilla. I'm sure you two lovebirds had a lot of catching up to do,“

Ghost snapped his head up at the man. It was hard to conceal his scowl. Riccardo "Iceman" Dante was a fucking pig who shoved his daughter down his throat. It was the first time the Mafia forced him to make a decision. And ever since then, he hated Dante, just like he hated his bratty daughter.

“We fucked, a lot. She wouldn't stop screaming her head off. And man, she got a wide cunt. Makes my dick fit with ease,“ Ghost replied, hinting at his loathing for the man.

Dante had a flicker of anger run through his eyes but he was quick to conceal it with a burst of boisterous laughter.

“You never cease to crack me up with your dark humor, Ghost,“ Dante said, as his laughter dwindled.

Ghost scoffed at his foolishness and looked away. It was only a matter of time before he forces Camilla to choose between her life and giving him some space. He's fed up with that bitch!

“I called you three here because we need to settle another pressing issue,“ Don Carianno began, and then he tossed some pictures on the table.

“Vlad,“ Ghost said, taking up the pictures, he knew the man, they all did. Years ago, he used to be the underboss of the Russian Mafia. But after Ghost killed every single one of them, Vlad escaped. Went into hiding. Turns out he's back to the surface.

“Yes, but he goes by a fake identity now, and is living in the shadows of the young, American beauty, Ciara MacDonald,” Don Carianno tossed another set of pictures on the table.

Ghost picked up one of them and for a minute, he paled up. He tuned out, and all he could do was stare at her.

She was gorgeous, alright, but that wasn't why he seemed so short of breath. It was odd, but she looked familiar. Like he'd seen her before.

“Your mission is to bring her in. She's the key to getting Vlad and finally sending him on a safe ride to the afterlife.“ Don Carianno ended his speech with a menacing laugh.

Ghost was slightly trembling now. His gaze was still on the picture. He couldn't stop looking at it.

It was no secret that he had amnesia. When he showed up here in Italy, he couldn't remember a thing.

Perhaps, was she a part of his past? If yes, then what was she to him? Why does he feel this tide of emotion just at the sight of her picture?

Who are you, Ciara MacDonald? He couldn't help but wonder.