S.I.X: The Mafia's Kryptonite

Six

Ten years. Ten fucking years of blood, bullets, and brotherhood.

I stared at the ornate ceiling of Antonio’s study, counting the cherubs painted in some long-dead artist’s vision of heaven. Ironic, considering the hell that transpired in the room below them.

I lifted my gaze back to his, remembering all those stern lessons from my childhood. The Don had drilled it into me countless times: a man who couldn’t maintain eye contact wasn’t worthy of respect or trust.

Even now, I could hear his voice in my head, sharp with contempt for those he considered weak.

In our world, weakness wasn’t just a flaw – it was an invitation to the grave. So I held his stare, steady and unwavering, even as my pulse thundered in my ears.

“You understand what you’re asking, Six?” The Don’s voice carried the weight of tradition. Of rules written in blood. “La fratellanza is for life.”

I kept my expression neutral, years of training holding my features in check. “I understand, Don Antonio. But I’ve served you and the family faithfully. I’ve never asked for anything before, and my track record speaks for itself.”

The Don’s fingers drummed against his mahogany desk – the same desk where I’d pledged my loyalty a decade ago.

A frightened kid with blood on his hands and nowhere else to go. Now I was his best enforcer, the shadow that kept La fratellanza’s enemies awake at night.

“The number Six,” he mused, “has become quite the legend. Our rivals whisper about it. The police have entire task forces dedicated to it.” A wry smile crossed his weathered face. “And now you want to walk away from it all?”

“I’m tired,” I admitted, the words tasting like defeat. “I’ve done everything asked of me. I’ve protected the family. But I need...” I trailed off, unsure how to explain the hollowness that had been growing inside me.

The Don stood, walking to the window that overlooked his sprawling estate. “You were always different, Six. Not like the others who crave the violence, the power. You treated it like... penance.”

His eyes bore into mine. “You were like the Christian God of old, smiting the people with your sword of vengeance.” His lips curled into a crooked smile.

I said nothing. He wasn’t wrong.

“The others won’t understand,” he continued. “They’ll see it as weakness. As betrayal. You know what happens to traitors?”

I did. I’d put enough of them in the ground myself.

The Don turned back to face me, his eyes calculating. “But perhaps... perhaps we can reach an arrangement. One last service to the family.”

Hope kindled in my chest like a forbidden flame – dangerous, reckless hope that I knew better than to entertain.

“What kind of service?” I asked, fighting to keep my voice steady, professional. Inside, my heart raced at the impossible: the Don was actually considering my request.

Requests like mine typically had a single, brutal answer – a bullet to the head in some forgotten alley. The lucky ones never even made it past his lieutenants.

No one had ever been granted the privilege of sitting here, watching the Don consider their words with those unreadable eyes. The fact that I was still breathing felt like a miracle in itself.

“The Rodriguez merger. It’s crucial for our future. The Capo is set to marry their heiress, but there are... complications. Threats. We need someone we trust to ensure her safety until the wedding.”

A glorified babysitting job. It should have felt like an insult. Instead, it felt like freedom.

“How long?”

“Three months.” The Don’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Protect her, see her safely married to the Capo, and then... then we discuss your retirement.”

I knew what wasn’t being said. One mistake, one failure, and I’d get my retirement – in a pine box. But it was more than anyone else had ever been offered.

The killings never ended with the rogue family members; it extended to their loved ones, which was why I didn’t have any.

“I accept,” I answered.

Really, how hard could it get? I thought to myself.

My job was simply to protect the Capo’s bride. I had done scarier tasks for the family; I had plunged into a hideout, one man, with guns blazing.

The Don nodded, reaching for his scotch. “Take tonight to prepare. You fly to New York tomorrow.” He poured two glasses, sliding one across the desk. “To your last assignment, Six.”

I raised the glass, the amber liquid catching the light like blood. One last job. Three months. Then I could finally walk away from the darkness I’d called home for ten years.

If only I’d known then just how dark things would get.

*

The bass from the club pulsed through my bones as I nursed my whiskey.

My last night of freedom deserved better than this dive bar on the outskirts of Rome, but anonymity had become a habit I couldn’t shake.

This was how I created a cover for my personality as Six. The dark had become one with me. I would retreat into its warm embrace and observe my victims.

“This seat taken?”

I looked up, straight into eyes that gleamed amber under the neon lights. She was stunning – dangerous kind of stunning that set off every alarm in my head.

Dark hair fell in waves past her shoulders, and her dress left just enough to imagination to make a man’s mind wander to dangerous places. A deep plunging neckline revealing soft, creamy skin and cleavage…

“It’s your funeral,” I muttered, turning back to my drink.

She laughed, sliding onto the stool beside me. “Rough night?”

“Rough decade.”

“Sounds like you need a distraction.” Her finger traced the rim of my glass, her perfectly manicured nail catching the light. “Or maybe just someone to help you forget for a while.”

I knew better. Ten years in the business had taught me to spot a setup, a honey trap, an assassination waiting to happen.

But tonight? Tonight I was just a man walking away from the only life he’d known, drowning his doubts in cheap whiskey.

“What’s your name?” I asked, though I didn’t expect the truth.

“Carmen.” She smiled, and it reached her eyes. Either she was genuine or a very good liar. In my experience, it was usually both. “And you?”

“Does it matter?”

Her hand found my thigh. “Not if you don’t want it to.”

I should have walked away. Should have stuck to my rules about strangers and one-night stands.

Should have remembered that in my world, coincidences usually ended with someone dead.

Instead, I let her lead me out of the bar, into the warm Italian night.