The Mafia's Angel のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 111 - チャプター 120

"It's oddly familiar," Hernandez said, taking the words right out of Juan's mouth. Juan's fingers touched the crest. It wasn't painted on, it was engraved into the metal, and had a circle of five small triangles. He hadn't seen it since Jakarta—during that madness when everyone turned on everyone and the streets went silent in a heartbeat. He didn't comment right away. His eyes raked over the other crates. Every single one of them had this sign. He whipped off his coat, got out his phone, and took a picture. Then he stood up, still eyeing the boxes. "Get them out of here," he told the others who were cleaning the floor. "Straight to the safehouse. Nobody lays hands on them. Nobody touches them, nobody opens them until I tell you to." Hernandez looked over. "You know what it is, don't you?" "I do," Juan said, walking to the back of the warehouse. He stopped next to a forklift and leaned on its side. He gazed at the floor for an incredibly long time before he went on. "We saw this

"Do you want to talk about it?" Arya asked, using her hand to shift Juan's hair away from his face. He gave a small laugh and shifted away."No, it's fine. I'm handling it."But he wasn't handling it well at all. He was spiralling—several thoughts at once coming into his head.Was Hernandez really a traitor or was that the last attempt to destroy things? How was it even logical that such a man who had stood with him through thick and thin was behind this? Was working with Giuseppe?Giuseppe didn’t work with people like Hernandez. He was a nationalist in the ugliest way—loud about Italian roots, old-school pride, heritage above all. Hernandez wasn’t just not Italian. He was Spanish and in Giuseppe’s world, that was enough reason to sneer.Or could it be that Hernandez and Giuseppe's alliance was temporary?It didn't add up. They weren't even the same kind of man. Hernandez was clean, organized and silent while Giuseppe was showy, rash, violent in a way that wasn't always necessary. The

Arya tied up her hair and studied her reflection for a moment before turning away. The room was quiet, only the sound of footsteps outside the door, then quiet once more. She stooped to retrieve her shoes, put them on slowly, then simply stood, not knowing what to do. A knock came at the door. "Arya?" a soft voice called. It wasn’t Juan. It was one of the housekeepers—Lucia. "Yes?" Arya said, walking over. Lucia gave a small smile when the door opened. "Donatella is here to see you. She came with her father. They’re with the others downstairs." Arya blinked. "Oh. Okay. I’ll be down in a minute." Lucia nodded and walked off. Arya stood where she was. The room fell silent again. She took a jacket, slipped it on, and left, moving more slowly than she had meant to. There was a smell of coffee in the house and something fainter coming from the kitchen. She heard voices in the dining room—Juan's voice, then another, older and deeper. That would be Donatella's father. She stopped in

Arya remained motionless for a while after Juan had left the room. She sat fixated on the door, not thinking of anything in particular, merely hearing the silence. She could still feel where his hand had rested on hers, and she wasn't certain how long she remained sitting there in such a state before finally rising.She shoved the blanket aside and swung her legs over, feet on the cold floor. Her body ached in some type of way, not painfully, not gone either, bur the pain just rested below her skin. She rubbed her arm gradually, then stood up and walked towards the window. The sun was lower, and the horizon was beginning to change to the color orange.It was strange to be alone after all that.For some reason she could not even explain to herself, she wanted Juan to come back. "Oh well," she sighed, yawning a little. She stepped away from the window and grasped the sweater slung over the back of the chair. She pulled it over her arms, then started out of the room and down the hall. T

Carlo clutched Arya's arm more firmly. "Boss, she shot Hernandez in the leg. Twice."Juan's stride did not falter as he approached. His expression did not change either."You carried her across the yard and left the man she shot bleeding in my pool?" Juan asked in a controlled voice. "And none of you thought it more wise to take care of the injured before blaming someone I invited into my home?"Domingo raised his hands somewhat. "It's not what it looks like—"No?" Juan interrupted, looking from the blood-filled water to Arya's face. "Then what is it? Because from where I'm standing, you two seem to be more interested in blaming her than in determining what the heck happened."."Juan," Arya answered, her voice trembling, but she stood up slightly taller. "He was taking me somewhere. I—I didn't understand at first, but then I did know. The blinking cameras. The red lights, you know, the ones that always blink? They weren't on. All of them."Juan tilted his head. "He shut them off?""Ye