The Mafia King's Temporary Wife
Then, we can talk.
*******
Two days later, a package arrives. It’s big, wrapped in brown paper, with my name written in Nila’s messy handwriting. I put it on my desk, trace the letters with my finger, and rip the paper open.
It’s a painting.
A naked woman kneels in a field of ruins and ashes, her back arched, arms lifted slightly toward the stormy sky. Her black hair blows in the wind, partly covering her face. A long black spear is stuck in her chest, and red paint drips down her body. A vulture sits on the end of the spear, waiting.