Chapter three

Alessio was seated at a big, wide rectangular table that accommodated about fifty men, all

dressed in black suits. They were impeccably dressed, exuding an air of power and wealth.

Alessio sat at the head of the table, a black fedora on his head, and a cigar perched in the corner

of his mouth. His sharp eyes scanned the room as business was discussed among the family.

Glasses of whiskey and wine were served as they talked. Alessio seemed deep in thought,

twirling his drink as if lost in his ruminations.

He finally called for everyone's attention and began to speak. "I appreciate the majority of you

gathering here and having dinner with the family. It's been a tradition for years to come together

before a job, and I'm glad we can uphold it. The Marchetti family has been our longest-standing

rivals. They've stolen our goods, sabotaged our shipments, and killed our men. But tonight, we

take action."

He paused, allowing his words to sink in before continuing. "We've been tipped off by our inside

man about one of their key locations. Tonight, we will raid their hideout, take out as many of their

men as possible, and claim their shipments and goods. They've done this to us long enough."

"Nessuna pietà," Alessio said as he raised his glass in a toast.

(No mercy.)

"Nessuna pietà," the others echoed, raising their glasses and joining in the toast.

After the toast, the men began filing out, preparing for the job ahead. Guns were being cocked

and transported, knives tucked into jackets. Everyone carried a weapon—or two. Alessio

remained in the room, watching from the window as his men made their preparations.

Diego, Alessio's cousin and most trusted right-hand man, walked into the room. "Alessio, it's time

to go. The car is ready, and the men are prepared."

Alessio finished his glass of whiskey, retrieved a golden pistol from his safe, and tucked it into his

suit jacket. He crossed himself, touching his forehead and shoulders before kissing the pendant

around his neck. Picking up the fedora he had set on the table earlier, he placed it back on his

head and walked out with Diego by his side.

*************************************************

Kim adjusted her apron and took a quick look at herself in the mirror before heading out of the

public bathroom. It was Friday, and she had another shift waiting tables at a private bar. A friendof a friend had gotten her the gig, and she was determined to make the most of it.

She made her way to the bar, exchanging friendly pleasantries with the tattooed bartender.

"Is table six's order ready?" she asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yes, two martinis ready."

Kim picked up the drinks on a tray and headed toward table six. After serving them, she noticed

another table with no drinks on it. A lone figure sat there, his back turned toward her. Something

about him seemed familiar.

As she approached, recognition hit her—he was the man from the restaurant.

Alessio raised an eyebrow as he noticed Kim standing silently in front of him. He recognized her

as the witty waitress from before.

"Did you lose something?" Alessio asked, raising an eyebrow.

Kim snapped out of her daze, scolding herself internally for freezing again around this man. She

cleared her throat.

"No. What would you like to order, sir?" she asked, forcing herself to sound professional.

Alessio leaned back in his seat, lighting a cigarette. "Whiskey on the rocks," he murmured, the

cigar still in his mouth.

Kim nodded and hurried off to fetch his drink. Alessio watched her brisk walk, studying her from

afar. She had long black hair that framed her shoulders. She wasn't strikingly beautiful but had

an understated charm that intrigued him. He couldn't quite place it—she was like an ornament

you couldn't stop admiring.

When she returned with his drink, she avoided his gaze. Setting the glass down, she asked, "Will

that be all, sir?"

Alessio took a slow sip, maintaining eye contact with her. "Anything else you might be willing to

offer as a complimentary service?"

Kim's face burned with embarrassment. "No," she croaked, hurrying out of his sight.

Alessio smirked as he watched her scurry off.Kim had just finished her shift at the bar. It was already late, and she needed to hurry to the bus

station to catch her ride. Exhausted, all she wanted was to take a shower and collapse into bed

after such a long day.

As she walked down the almost-deserted road toward her destination, she suddenly heard

commotion coming from a corner around the block. She wanted to ignore it and walk away

quickly, but then she heard a frantic cry for help—a woman's voice.

"Let go of me! Somebody help me!" the voice screamed.

Kim didn't know what came over her. Without thinking, she ran toward the source of the

commotion, hoping that whoever was assaulting the woman would stop upon hearing her

approach.

"Hey!" Kim shouted at the two men dressed in black suits, who were dragging the woman by her

hair. One of the men, who had his fist tangled in the woman's hair, turned his attention to Kim. As

he moved, Kim noticed two dead police officers lying lifeless in their own pools of blood nearby.

For Christ's sake, what had she walked into? This wasn't some random purse-snatching robbery

—this was murder and kidnapping. Kim froze in shock, her mouth agape, as the two men fixed

their gazes on her, seemingly deciding what to do.

The woman, seizing the moment while the men were distracted, kicked one of them hard and

tried to run. Without hesitation, the other man pulled out a pistol and fired two shots into her

back. The woman collapsed to the ground.

Kim screamed.

"Oh my God!" she yelled, turning to run.

One of the men barked an order to the other.

"Come on, go get her, you idiot!"

Kim ran as fast as her legs would carry her, screaming for help as she sprinted down the alley.

God, she didn't want to die—not like this, not now. Tears streamed down her face as she ran, her

heart pounding in terror.

Suddenly, she skidded to a stop. Dead end.

"No, no, no!" she cried frantically, clawing at the brick wall as though it might magically open.

Behind her, she could hear the heavy footsteps of the man chasing her.

"Damn, you're one fast bitch," the man said, bending over to catch his breath."Please," Kim sobbed, sliding down the wall, pulling her knees to her chest. "I'm begging you. I

won't say anything. Please, let me live."

The man shook his head slowly, a smirk on his face.

"Sorry, princess. Wrong place, wrong time," he muttered, cocking his gun and aiming it at her

head.

Kim's mind raced. Was this what it felt like—the final moments before death? The desperate fight

to hold on, to stay alive? Her head spun as she closed her eyes tightly, holding her breath in

anticipation of the gunshot.

*Boom! Boom! Boom!*

Three loud gunshots echoed through the alley. Then, silence.

Kim sat frozen. She could hear the shots, but she hadn't felt anything. Was she dead? Was this

some twisted game to prolong her suffering? Slowly, she opened her eyes.

Her vision was blurry, but she could see the man who had just pointed a gun at her now lying

lifeless in a pool of blood. As her eyes adjusted, she noticed a man walking toward her. He was

dressed in a black suit and wore a fedora hat. A pistol rested in his hand.

Kim recognized him immediately. He was the man from the restaurant and the bar. Her vision

blurred again as the adrenaline wore off, and her legs gave out beneath her. She felt herself

collapse but didn't hit the ground; strong arms caught her just in time.

"Sei al sicuro adesso," he whispered softly.

("You're safe now.")

Those were the last words she heard before she blacked out .