Fortisfortunaadiuvat - Blog Posts

White Knight, Dark Heart

The Devil bent my ear today.

He said you needed a protector in this darkened world.

I came out of the shadows, with blood on my hands and the truth on my face.

I said: "What do you want?"

He said: "It's about a girl."

And I saw her.

Broken wings with a child's shadow at her back in a mirror of infinity.

I couldn't look away.

It was magical.

The Devil bent my ear today.

I won't forget I ever met you.

I'll hold your hand in the last hour.

Because I swore I would.

Christov stood rooted to the doorway as the young woman, he realized, his romantic rival past him. Taking the tender pup with her in her protective embrace. At a minimum he was delighted to see for himself that she had taken so intimately to the little dog in the few hours that they had been together. That was a relief. He'd worried that perhaps, in her delicate condition she might have thought to reject this responsibility, forcing them to return the baby dog  to its original owners. They would not have been pleased. Over the phone Hector had talked a good game to secure the pup from the breeders. Christov had stayed behind to shop for puppy goods with Ares whilst Tino and Hector had dressed in casual clothes and their most disarming smiles. Looking every bit the gushing puppy fanboys. The breeders weren't comfortable with Hector's tattoos until he got down on his knees and began to effortlessly love the bitch and sire whilst Tino almost wept at the beauty of each baby dog, also on his knees, allowing the pups to nip and tug at his clothes and hair. The breeders finally relented, formally signing baby Cerberus' birth and registration papers over to the young men with a strict list of care requirements and veterinary contacts. They were paid in cash and sent the boys away with the new baby dog after a tearful goodbye to the other dogs. They swore on their lives and mother's that the puppy would forever be a king in their home.

It wasn't until the owners looked to their transaction receipts that they saw the name whom the dog had been signed to and paled. 

'D'Antonio.'

Their concerns were obliterated. They were not about to refuse the sale of a dog to the Camorra. They crossed themselves and shut the door.

Even so, Christov stung under the burn of rejection. Handsome, well mannered and educated as he was, he had come from a relatively privileged upper middle class French/Italian family and was not accustomed to being stood down by women. As the eldest of three sons, he had been taught to love, cherish and respect women, for they were the bringers of life and completion. A man's ultimate pleasure. He'd not fully comprehended the depth of that statement until at last he had struck his 13th year and suddenly girls had become very interesting indeed. He'd always regretted that his first kiss had been stolen by a cheeky boy. His playground rival and neighborhood enemy that he would later go on to fight with over the affections of a pretty girl that lived down the lane. 

This memory was somewhat implanted deeply into his psyche and seemed to govern much of his ideologies on the affections of young ladies whom he kept as casual mistresses and returning companions to fulfill his carnal urges and then politely call the next cab home for. A mechanism he engineered to stop the pain of rejection that seemed to constantly plague him when it came to matters of love. This morning had been no different and affirmed that his reasoning was sound. Forming deep romantic ties with a lover in this line of work was a painful mistake. He preferred the tattoo needle to his most sensitive nerves than the slap and sting of agony that he was forced to negotiate through right now. 

"Lali, please... Wait up! Let me come with you at least?" He jogged after the dancer whom had made her way on rapid footfalls across the mosaic tile landing and was beginning her decent of the stairs. He realized in the peripheral of his heart that chasing the girl and whimpering like a kicked dog at her rejection was making him appear oppressive, needy and clingy. Qualities that no lady found particularly charming or fashionable anywhere in the world. And his profession with the Camorra had certainly seen him to be well traveled. 

Regardless he persisted, hating himself a little. His dignity compromised and his heart aching. It only occurred to him then, that for his failure to comply with rules he had been dumped by two potential lovers each within hours of each other. What's more, he was powerless to put them behind his wheels because they were domestic and professional family. He realized then, as Lalienna refused to look at him, just how fucked he really was after all. A whip of anxiety began to strangle-hold the lungs in his very chest. The tension built, flooding his veins. He needed to do something that would stop him feeling so dejected and neglect the press of tears he was determined to deny. He had his pride after all and he would not allow the dancer to see him come apart over what he reasoned was a casual affair. She was not equal to the task of his self indulgent whining and he refused to give it to her. After all, the young woman had just made a shattering revelation when she agreed to abort her unborn child. He would push past his pain and jealousy and attend his number one duty first even if it irritated her. He would follow at her heel and protect. That was his natural born calling and he fell to it with pure muscle memory. 

"Hey, look I get it, okay? You've got every right to be pissed the off at me right now. I admit it. I fucked up. I didn't even think about what I was doing. I was just angry at him. Retaliating you know. He's not into me that way, he never fucking was and I asked him for sure. He told me, point blank. No. There's no compromise between us Lali, serious. Jesus, could you just stop for a sec? C'mon!" The dancer wasn't interested in listening. And the more he talked the more he realized he was starting to sound less like a daddy and more like a pathetic boy. She crossed the flights of stairs on decidedly rapid footfalls with the little pup in arms. At her approach to the garden doors, one of the maids, with her basket of fresh laundry, stood to the side and let the new house mistress pass, bowing her head in quiet reverence to the couple whom she heard the tattooed master speak briskly. Unfortunately the maid did not comprehend English so what was being said escaped her. She did catch a glance of the new puppy however and her young heart leapt in joy! Alas, the mistress did not appear happy so she thought it best to refrain from fraternizing and instead return to the laundry with her clean washing to begin her ironing.

Outside the Roman Autumn was magnificent. The air was crisp, clean and fresh. The sunlight shone a radiant warmth across the gardens that caught its fingers along the colour changing trees. The scent of Jasmine and Magnolia hung in the air an alluring perfume and the massive stone fountain with its tiered classical bowls was playing bird bath to a dozen doves that splashed happily in its waters, refreshing their feathers after their morning flights. Their cooing and flapping seemed to have caught Cerberus' attention, for he wiggled happily in his lady human's arms, waggling his little cropped tail offering the doves a tender series of gentle barks in greeting, hoping his mami would put him down to play with them. They were fun to chase!

Even so, Lalienna refused to make even a token gesture at acknowledging Christov who was feeling himself very displaced and rejected. He tried again at conversation, amazed that he was managing to keep the cracks out of his voice.

"You're right, I am an asshole. I didn't touch any of the shit they were snorting last night and I wasn't even drunk and I still picked a fight with the boss over you. He doesn't fuck around either, Lienna... Sure, he argues with us plenty but he's no push over. He's been as military trained as we are. I've seen him lay the smack down on Hector's ass more than once. He's given me a few good blows to the jaw just because I got mouthy at him. And trust me, if you think he's gonna treat you with kid gloves just because you're his lady, you got another thing comin'. Sure, he doesn't get so rough with the ladies but that doesn't mean what he'll do to you if you piss him off won't be worse. I can only protect you while you're in front of me, babe. When he has you alone, you're gonna need to handle yourself. So good luck. 'Cos I've watched his ass evolve over the past six years and I'm telling you, the boss is into some dark shit in bed. You're new the scene babe, but I know he gets filthy with girls. If he gave you a safeword, you'd better know how to use it. We've pulled bleeding flowers out of his hands before. He's not afraid to get into that shit if you'll let him."

What was he doing here? Saying these things? Was he trying to make a point? Make himself appear a dark knight by feeding the young woman information that he was already certain she knew at least a fraction of? Every time the breeze caught her hair, that scar on her neck was visible. He'd ask his boss if there was a way to organize for her to have that shit removed. Marking a woman with your initial was barbaric. Over an indiscretion? Really? What would Tino do to her if he found out she had visited his bed more than once. What would Tino do to him?

He didn't want to think about it.

So he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes noting he was on his third last one and would need to pick up another pack or bum a few from Tony later. He lit up and took to the nearest timber bench to watch over the pretty blonde girl and her puppy as the sunlight shone through her hair. He couldn't believe it. She was so angelic. Just standing there in the sun with the beauty of the garden surrounding her. The fountain at her back the puppy in her arms.  He put his head down and focused on his boots. The rips in his dark denim jeans. The burn of the smoke as it caressed his mouth and soothed his throat before he exhaled. He wasn't going to cry over this. He wasn't. He wasn't going to cry. Fuck. He was gonna cry. Wasn't he?

Nope. Not today amigo. Not in front of a girl. Rule number one. Never let a woman see you cry. It made you look weak. Girls didn't respect weakness. They only kissed the boys in the playground that could protect them against bullies. So he worked out, tripled his protein intake, bulked muscle, covered himself in imposing tattoos, dressed sharp, talked a hot game and pretended he was a classy motherfucker. When in truth he was just a kid pretending to be a German Shepherd. He liked being treated like an attack dog. He liked pretending he was hers. But now he was unwanted. His boss didn't want him and his lady didn't want him either.

This juice wasn't worth the squeeze.

So he got pissed off instead and changed gears.

"Hey... Lienna, you listening to me?" She flipped him off. Bitch. He sucked down a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke out of his nose, like a dragon.

"Hey!" He snapped. Showing his teeth. "Show me a little respect, eh? I'm willing to get smacked around because of you. The least you can do is show me some fuckin' courtesy and look at my face when I'm talkin' to you, lady. Damn! Didn't those White Women teach you any manners?" Oooh dear, he shouldn't have gone that far. He was pissed off, he didn't care.

"'Cos I met your mom babe, Judeth. Yeah, she's a real lady. And I don't think she'd be too impressed if she saw her daughter acting this way to her employer's colleagues. And another thing," He got up and crossed the garden to stand beside her.

"Apologies and forgiveness ain't worth shit if you spit it out just because you think that's what the other person wants to hear. They don't. I don't. I want you real. Always real. As real as you get when you're praying to God while I'm eating your pussy. That's the kind of real I expect from you. Even when you're in the right and I'm in the wrong and I'm asking for forgiveness because I had the balls to front and tell you I fucked up. So we're done here. 'Kay? Done. I'm gonna cut you slack because what you're going through right now, I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy but don't think for a minute than I'm not hurting for you, because I am. And I'm sorry for kissing your boyfriend last night. He told me, you thought he came to fuck me. Ha! No way man! Not in my wildest dreams and I had a few. Pfft, whatever. I'm done being your dog for today. You're a big girl, you can handle yourself. You sure as fuck pussy whipped the boss. I'm out. You need me, baby girl, you know where the find me. I'm the third bedroom on the left of the forth floor. Follow the music. And take care of that baby dog too. He's into you almost as much as I am."

Pissed off, he turned on his heel, spat at the ground and stalked away, crushing his cigarette against the stone goddess as he passed and taking the butt with him. He wasn't into littering in his own house.

He knew what he wanted now. If she came back to their wager, and he'd show her that video. He'd tie her down to a chair first. Let her feel the taste of velvet rope about her wrists. He'd fix a spreader bar to her ankles and watch her drip as he'd pull off her lace with his teeth and deny her the touch to her throbbing womanhood that he'd know she'd need. Complete sensory denial. That would fuck her over. Nothing torments a woman more than denied orgasm compounded by furious sexual stimulation. He'd snap that book out of her grasp too and read to her the most intensely erotic passages. He'd make her watch while he stroked himself and tasted his own cum leaving her crying in denial. When she finally broke down and admitted he'd won and begged for release both from her bonds and her need for climax, he'd charge her for it. Four hundred gold coins. That was top class money for a male escort in the underworld. Just to sell your soul with him for one night.

God he was a cunt. Why was he so possessed of this idea? Jesus, she'd just lost a baby and he hadn't even asked her about it yet. She wasn't in the mood. It didn't matter. He made his way across the garden path leaving the beauty of the Roman afternoon behind. Maids rushed out of his way. He pinched one on the ass. Cheeky. The girl yelped and blushed furiously dropping her eyes to his predatory smirk. Marcus met him on his way down to the garage, pulling on a dark blue t-shirt over his head and brushing out his hair with his fingers.

"Hey bro, wanna take the Ducati for a ride?"

"Yeah buddy, let's go hit up the Lombardi's, see if they got any work for us." Christov murmured, dropping his cigarette butt into the ashtray upon the work table before stalking over to the sleek and ruinously expensive Italian sports bike in candy-apple red. He mounted it with a purr. Mmh, it felt good to have this much power between his legs. Marcus took one look at his friend and colleague, mounted on that motorbike and looking stung. He knew instantly that something was wrong. And he guessed at what it was.

"Rough morning bro?"

"Dumped. Twice." Was all Christov offered as he thumbed the keyfob in his pocket that rolled out the mechanical garage doors, opening to the steep drive way and the Roman streets below.

Beside him Marcus put on his leather jacket and handed his friend his cycle helmet without a word before also mounting his own monstrous black bike. The roar of Italian engines exploded to life. Both men revved their engines, getting high off the purr of precision sports engineering. Like great mechanical beasts. Steel horses. Guns, bullets and steel knives honed to dangerous edges rested in their travel cases fixed to the bike's rears. These boys were headed to the Lombardi's precinct. Even though they were on a week's vacation and business didn't have to be considered. They wanted to blow off a little steam. And if fucking up the Lombardi's ring was the way they were gonna get it, then so be it.

The garage doors closed behind them. Marcus and Christov took off down the winding Roman road.

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Back within the estate, Hector had was just drying off as he came out of the pool. He'd pulled on some sleek cotton pants in white and was wiping the last of the water from his hair as he followed the path around the manicured gardens past the stone angels toward the sound of a very excited puppy making its best attempts to sound imposing as it shouted at a flock of doves in the fountain bowls that were not going to give the little creature any attention. The sunlight sparkled off the young woman's hair. And her eyes through troubled were as beautiful as jewels. She was radiant to behold!  

"Lali! Ciao bella! How you doin' baby girl? Oh God! Look at him! He's gorgeous! Do you love him babe? You given him a name yet?" Hector called as he padded over on confident strides. His shoulder was still mending after the attack the young woman had bestowed upon him. But now, rather than feel the sting of irritation, he was proud for every time it ached. It mean that their latest guard, his Lalienna (for that is what he thought of her in private, as his little sister) had a very large set of balls that complimented Ares' skills extremely well. He made to kiss the young woman's forehead but earned a protective series of yelps from the puppy until he melted and gave the little dog his fingers to smell. The pup nipped him excitedly. Tiny little razor sharp teeth that made Hector cry out.

"Ow! Ow! Geez! Settle down, baby boy! It's okay! It's me! Uncle Hector! Remember? We picked your little butt up this morning, ha ha ha! Oh, there we go. You like me now, eh?" The puppy reverted to arfing at Hector with a wag of his tiny cropped tail, approving of the scent of the man that he now remembered was the first human outside of his family to lift him from his pack. That was alright then. He didn't mind this boy human. He was the one that smelled warm. A protector. Big and strong. That's what Cerberus wanted to grow up as. But for now, he'd chomp anything that came near his mami! He arfed happily. He wanted to play with the doves.

"Put him down a little babe, let him run around. The garden's are fully gated in solid steel. No gaps anywhere. There's nowhere for him to run out of. He'll be fine."

The sunlight caught Hector's wheat blonde hair and the muscle across his chest, playing off the tattoos on his skin as the droplets of water gathered down his chest. He was handsome in the way of a solider with a gentle heart was handsome. But he'd seen the trouble in the young woman's eyes. And he knew she was suffering. So he asked quietly flicking his eyes over his shoulders to make sure they were out of earshot of anyone that was important.

"Hey baby... Talk to me. How've you been keeping? Are you okay?"  

“Cerberus!” He loved it! The name rolled off his tongue with his Italian accent. He tried the name a few more times.

“Cerberus, Cerberus… Baby Cerbs… A baby… Oh Lali, congratulations Mami, amore mio, you’re the proud mother of a darling baby boy! I’m so happy for you amore! God… look at me, I’m crying!”

He couldn’t help himself. His eyes flooded as he looked at his prospective wife and their furry child. His heart was singing, and breaking… Fuck… Fuck… He wanted to get her a ring. He wanted to make it official.

Cool it.

Cool off.

It hasn’t even been three months yet. It had taken him four years before he finally proposed to Marissa. He wasn’t ready to rush something so important with Lalienna. But he was Italian, hot-blooded, impulsive, and she was holding a furry son. Loving him. He was praising himself. This had been his idea had’t it? Oh… yeah… No it wasn’t. It was Hector’s.  But it didn’t matter. He wanted to make her happy.

Keep reading

Judeth Clayton: Queen, Disrupted

Don’t Tear Away From Me

I Need You to Hold On To

How Can This Mean Anything To Me?

When All You Do Is Keep Bleeding Through

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My history is written in Blood & Gold

I am Judeth Clayton; Queen, Interrupted

I am Judeth Clayton; Queen, Disrupted

{{[[ @f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat   ||  @lalienna-dementriento ]]}}

"Cerberus!" He loved it! The name rolled off his tongue with his Italian accent. He tried the name a few more times.

"Cerberus, Cerberus... Baby Cerbs... A baby... Oh Lali, congratulations Mami, amore mio, you're the proud mother of a darling baby boy! I'm so happy for you amore! God... look at me, I'm crying!"

He couldn't help himself. His eyes flooded as he looked at his prospective wife and their furry child. His heart was singing, and breaking... Fuck... Fuck... He wanted to get her a ring. He wanted to make it official.

Cool it.

Cool off.

It hasn't even been three months yet. It had taken him four years before he finally proposed to Marissa. He wasn't ready to rush something so important with Lalienna. But he was Italian, hot-blooded, impulsive, and she was holding a furry son. Loving him. He was praising himself. This had been his idea had't it? Oh... yeah... No it wasn't. It was Hector's.  But it didn't matter. He wanted to make her happy.

No matter the cost. Anything. Nothing would stop him from bringing a smile to this young woman's face. She was only twenty-one but she'd suffered so much. An addict and abuser for a mother, dead now. A father that wouldn't acknowledge her in the slightest. Selfish, too caught up in his own life to take responsibility for the fact that he'd be instrumental to birthing a bastard.

The Ruska Roma... The Director. That was no life, the Russian clans. They were monsters. Hard, brutal, born on blood and torture and torment. John Wick.... Fucking John Wick was revered in the Underworld. He'd come from the Ruska Roma as well. A dog of The Director. A powerful family clan. A Prince of the Underworld.

No, no don't think about John. John was... dangerous territory. He didn't want to remember that man's face right now. Somewhere deep inside his heart, he was aching at the fact that Lalienna had confessed to Wick being her first true lover. And it had been recent. Too recent. That... and the Powell Family. Gianna had been sending him missives and updates from her time in London. She would not be pleased to learn that her brother had taken flight back to Italy and removed the entire High Guard when House Powell had just declared open war against the White Women. Fuck... He was gonna get caned for this when Gianna found out. She probably already knew. He was surprised she wasn't blowing up her phone.

Perhaps... if she did... He could contract someone else to take over on his behalf.

John's face flashed in his mind's eye again. Prince of the Underworld. Lord of Darkness. They called him Baba Yaga now. The killer of the boogeyman. He'd make the call if he had to. But there was no guarantee John would accept the work. Not if he knew the depth of the back-story that proceeded the job. Perhaps he'd refuse on principle when he learned that House Powell summoned the feud because of his love affair with Lalienna in the first place.

That would be an awkward conversation. He wondered how it would play out.

'Benvenuto John, vieni a sederti con me, prendi un caffè. Ascolta, ho bisogno che tu uccida qualcuno per me. Il potenziale pretendente della tua ex ragazza a Londra. Ci stai?' (Welcome John, come sit with me, have a coffee. Listen, I need you to kill someone for me. Your ex-girlfriend's prospective suitor in London. Are you in?)

He could almost imagine that man's dark eyes darken even further at the mere mention. He wouldn't have to tell him the truth. Just that it was all business. He'd met Lalienna in London at the Continental. And he'd offered her a job considering she was unattached to any other syndicate or clan. She'd accepted. She was Camorra now under the D'Antonio's. On his payroll. That would do, wouldn't it? He didn't have to say, 'Yeah, I've also made Lalienna my girlfriend. I'm fucking her for you. Because you don't have the balls to keep doing it. Your loss motherfucker. She's my slave now.'

No way. John would empty a magazine into his head so fast he'd not have time to speak his mother's name as his last words. This was dangerous. He'd have to chose someone else. He and Wick had history when their paths crossed in the past. The Russians and Italians acknowledged each other as superpowers in the underworld. Coupled with the English, they were practically unstoppable. They'd taken on the Triads and the Japanese before and won. And lost... but mostly won.

That didn't matter now. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it. What mattered right now was Lalienna as she sat on the bed with his tiny, furry son. He was in love. Absolutely in love. Nothing could make him any happier. He wiped at his tears with the back of his hand and kissed her forehead and the baby Cerberus'  tiny ears. The little pup looked up sleepily and snuggled deeper into the young lady's arms. In his little mind, baby Cerberus had decided that this human girl smelled warm, friendly. She... smelled like blood. Mummy blood. He remembered that smell. His mummy smelled like that too. His brothers and sisters. He missed them already. Mummy and Daddy had told him that one day, soon, he would be separated from his pack to find a forever home with a new human family. That his mission would be to grow up big and strong and protect them whoever they were. This human lady was it. He was sure of it. She smelled like she needed protecting. He was tiny, sleepy and still much too little and new to this interesting world to be of any use yet. But he promised to himself, as he heard his name christened. He was Cerberus. Hmm, he liked that name.

He'd like to tell Mummy and Daddy and his puppy pack that the human lady had given it to him. She smelled warm. Gentle. Young, like him. And she smelled of blood. Young blood. Birthing blood. He knew what that smell meant. She had had a pup too... Was he her pup? Now he was confused. He was tired. The other humans were so very nice to him. They were big and strong and they held him gently and made sure he felt safe. They were boy humans. He liked boy humans. They were just like him. And they smelled warm and tender and big and strong. They were protectors. He wanted to grow up just like them.

Mmmh, his Lady Human. He loved her. She was warm... He would sleep here a little.

'Wait for me, Lady Human. I will grow big and strong for you. Just take care of me. I love you.' Were his final thoughts as he drifted in her arms to a comfortable sleep.

"Amore, I'm going to give you and the baby some time alone to get acquainted. I'm so happy you love him. The boys and I wanted to give you someone special. Someone who could love and protect you deeper than even we can. He's yours forever bella. You have to promise me to look after him with your heart and soul. Remember, he has to go wherever you go. You have to protect him and he will lay his life down for you as soon as he gets bigger. You're a mother now. He's going to make you grow up quickly. We're all here to help you raise him. Hector has raised dogs since he was a child, Panchelli as well. I don't doubt the other guards have all had occasion to look after dogs and other animals in their history. We're  all in this together. But  you are his sole legal registered owner. You'll be responsible for his training and feeding and cleaning. Because you're strong and intelligent and it will do you good to focus on his up-bringing. Never let his care make you feel overwhelmed. If you ever need a break, we're here for you. All of us. Bring him to me, I will care for him in your stead. Day and night. He's welcome to sleep on the beds and sofas.  Just be careful he doesn't get in the way of the maids when they're working. And if it rains, make sure he doesn't track puppy paws all over the house. Panchelli is particular about clean floors. . and...." He had so much more to say...

"Lalienna... I love you amore mio. I meant it when I told you there's nothing going on with Chris and I. We're idiots. Playing around, being silly. We didn't mean it. Look, you know us. We're family now. Sure, we're going to kiss and hug and sleep in the same beds some times. That's natural in my house. I do it on purpose because guards that are kept safe and warm become better attack dogs when they have something they feel they really want to protect. If I treated them like mercenaries, paid muscle... They'd treat me like a paid employer. Camorra or not. They'd go where the money and the power goes. It's love that keeps them here. My love. Our love for each other. We're tight babe. Really tight. We have history and you'll have to accept it runs deeper and longer than yours. This is still very new to you, I know. We've been together less than three months. Let's just... grow together a bit. Get your heels dug in. Feel the way we work with each other. Learn that we are family first and foremost. Business partners second."

He kissed her cheek again. His fingers caressing the puppy's warm, soft hind legs as he slept in her arms.

"Lali... we have rules babe. Lines we don't cross. We talked about this in the past but not clearly enough. We make vows to each other. There's a legitimate code of conduct that even though it's unspoken its contractual and we have to adhere to it so we don't get ourselves over-complicated when we shouldn't.  I know... what you saw last night looked like a mess. We were both pretty fucked up. Actually, we all were. I don't let them get loose like that very often. We almost never have hard drugs in the house for that reason. When we're working, we have to keep sober, straight. No booze, no nothing. It clouds your judgment, your perspective is off. Imagine having to make a business deal or negotiate a border skirmish between rival gangs when you're stoned off your face? We didn't get to be number 1 in Rome by taking potshots and injecting crack. We've got a reputation to uphold. We're operatives under The High Table. The Table in Italy is guarded by my father, Lorenzo. He's your boss now as much as he's mine. And beneath him is Gianna. If she says we do something, we do it. We don't ask questions and we don't push back. Rome is ours babe, but there's rules we need to respect. The politicians, the police, the feds. Lorenzo keeps them paid off. Yes it's corrupt but the Mafia has existed for centuries, from Sicily to Venice and back again. If we can't respect each other, and our rules. How are we going to respect them, eh?"  He got to his feet now and made for the door, smiling at her. Loving her.

"Whatever you think you've heard about my past, whatever you think you know. I urge you to ask me up front, tesoro. I mean it. I'm not going to lie to you. I'm loyal in a relationship. I'll be the first to admit I've whored about a lot when I was younger. Guys, girls, anything I wanted. But when I said, enough. That I was gonna settle in with one woman, I fuckin' meant it. No cheating. No backstabbing. No double-cross, or two-timing. It's not my style. I don't play those dirty games because I've had them played on me." He didn't want to say the rest but he did.

"Before you... about three years ago... there was a woman I was gonna marry. Her name was Marissa Conti. We were engaged. She ended up leaving me. It was complicated. Messy. I loved her and found out she was seeing another man behind my back. And sleeping with him in my bed when I wasn't home. We.... never made it past the engagement. I put an exclusive contract out on her lover. I had him beaten, abused, tortured until he confessed everything. Christov and Hector were there. They all knew one way or the other what was happening. They were all paid for what we did to him that night. I paid them to end his life. I was the one that put a bullet in his head for fucking my fiancée. ... I made her watch... And what I did to her... It cost me.....Two years. Complicated. Messy. I don't wanna talk about this now, or ever. But... one day, if you're raw about it, and need to know. Come and find me. We'll have coffee. We'll talk. But at least now, you know where I stand. You know deep down why I went insane when I found out about Devina. And baby, I thought about it. Putting a hit on her. I thought about making you watch as I blew her fucking head off. I would have done it too... But I get it. You had history together. I understand history. So you can sleep easy at night knowing I'm going to keep my word when I tell you Devina is going to live. I'm not gonna fuck with her. For you.... But Lali.... amore mio.... You're not gonna fuck with me either. Okay?"

He'd said more than he was prepared to. He was aching now. He needed time alone. He nodded to her,

"Take care of the baby." The last thing he said before leaving the room and shutting the door.

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Ares and Christov were standing in the hallway, chattering with each other using rapid sign language. He couldn't tell what they were saying.

"Hey boss! How'd it go? She loves him right?! We did good, right?" He came forward to meet his friends and wrapped his arms around their shoulders. He kissed both their cheeks and confirmed the idea was a masterpiece. That Lalienna had named the baby dog Cerberus, after the protective hound of Hell.  Both guards were very impressed.

'Ares, can you give us boys a minute?' He signed. The young woman saluted happily. She threw up a peace sign and knocked at Lali's door before letting herself in and leaving Chris and Tino alone on the landing.

"Walk with me." Was all Tino said. Christov did. Following at his boss' heels. He was a good dog. He'd do what he was told without question.

The men made their way downstairs. To the kitchen where Pancheilli was busy organizing rosters with the maids. The old butler immediately brightened and asked if the master could be attended but Santino smiled and told him to continue. He just wanted to make some coffee. Would he take the ladies to another room please to continue their business?

"Certo signore! andiamo, abbiamo molto da fare. Chi ha le schede attività? Vai, vai, il maestro è occupato. Non ha bisogno di noi." (Certainly sir! Ladies, come on, we have much to do. Who has the timesheets? Go, go, the master is busy. He doesn't need us.)

The maids and butler retired to the servants quarters. The chef had gone to the markets to restock the pantry. Santino and Christov were alone. Tino attended the coffee machine and served two rich cappuccinos before suggesting they go and take them on the balcony overlooking the gardens.  

Christov thanked his employer, took both their cups and led the way, holding back the door and settling down next to Tino, serving him his coffee.

"Smoke boss?"

"Per favore." (Please)

Then men inhaled and sipped their cups contentedly. Happy to just be lost in their own thoughts.

"She loves the little dog, eh?"

"Yeah... he's precious, like her. She'll love him like her own son, I know she will."

"We did good boss. I'm glad you bought him for her. She needs this. More than you'll ever know."

"Christov?"

"Yeah?"

"About last night." Chris stung inside. He dropped his eyes. Taking his coffee as the only important thing in the world. He knew this was coming. He was fucking dreading it.

"Lalienna knows something's up. Between us. She thought I'd left the bed to go fuck you last night because she was too weak and high."

"Get out of it."

"I'm serious."

That hurt. Deeply. Santino hadn't looked at him romantically since Singapore. Those kisses last night, through fueled in hatred... were something else. Jealousy. He was hurting inside. Lalienna had overtaken him.  Had taken Santino away. And he knew that would happen. That's fine. Whatever. He wasn't the main focus anyway. He never wanted to be. He wasn't a fag after all. He liked pussy as much as the next guy. He liked Lalienna's. But now... with the baby... or lack thereof. And with Ares. There was too much competition. Santino was home now. Back in the picture. He'd been pushed to the side. Again. The way he had all his life.

"There's nothing going on between us, boss. Don't worry about it. I was high last night."

"Bullshit. You didn't touch a single line. I watched you. You were sober for her. You've been guarding her with Hector and Ares more than any of the others. You know something and you won't let me in on it. Start talking."

"There's nothing to talk about, man. I mean it. She's fucked. You fucked her up good. Broke her down after the affair. She was a mess when you stopped talking to her. I told you about this remember? We had to care for her because you stopped. Because it was inconvenient."

"She's never been inconvenient."

"So long as it suits you."  God! That stung him. Like a kick to the balls. His green eyes darkened. He sucked on his cigarette and attacked.

"Where's this coming from, Christov? Hmm? You jealous?"

"Yeah, I'm fuckin' jealous. I admit it. I was pissed off. She's a really beautiful girl and you tormented her by being a dick. I would have taken her place if I could. Anything. Just to be under you."

"Under me?"

"You know what I mean, man. I've been real to you since Singapore."

"The other girls?"

"Paid entertainment. Couple of Athena's whores in London. In and out. Nothing serious." He met his employer's eyes now. And he was burning. Angry.

"Listen, I get it. Really I do. I don't fuck with the family. I don't break the code of conduct, I don't mix business with pleasure and I keep my shit on the down-low. Discreet. Outside of business hours. But what we did in Singapore. You can't tell me that was nothing."

"It wasn't nothing, Chris. It was as real for you as it was for me."

"We were both high."

"We were both lonely."

"I should have taken that bullet for you."

"You gave me another one. It was deeper and it harder than anything I've taken before."

That made him laugh. The two men eased off a bit. Yes there was still heat between them, but it was below the surface.

"Yeah well... you kinda did a number on me too. You'll forgive me for getting antsy about rules. We both blew them that night. When we blew each other. You've been my first and last guy. I wasn't expecting to feel so.... replaced."

"Christov, come on? Really? Replaced? With who? You see me putting a ring on the other boys?"

"You should probably tell Curtis and Tony to cool off then. They were practically fucking each other on the lounge in front of the girls last night."

Another laugh as both men took to their coffees and smokes.

"So we're all breaking the rules. Blurring the lines. Okay. Okay. I get it. If I mean to be a leader then I need to lead by example. And I've not been doing a very good job." Santino admitted.

"Look, London was hard man. We appreciate you giving us space to just be free and blow off some steam. We love Lalienna, really. But she's new and fragile. We gonna protect her. And that includes from our bullshit."

"You got off last night. Tattooing her. I saw you kiss her knee." Chris stiffened in his seat a little. His mouth watered. He'd... touched himself to that memory last night, alone. In his bed.

"Yeah, I did. I kissed her. But.. she wasn't into it the way I wanted to. I got off on it, but she was vacant, man. Whatever drugs she was trippin' on weren't keeping her focused. Fuckin' hot tatt though, am I right?"

"Wet dream material."

"I know, right!"

"Fuck yeah. Thank you, Christov, for marking her for me. For us. I appreciate your hard work. She'll come thank you eventually herself."

"She doesn't need to. I know she's just easing into the idea of being part of our crew. She's got a great ass though."

"Si... she does. I know... I've held it."

"So don't give me shit about being jealous. Respect brother!"

"Respect!" Both men bumped fists. Shook hands. Pulled each other into a tight hug. It lasted. And lasted.

Neither man was willing to be the first to pull away. So they didn't. They just embraced. Feeling the beat of the other's heart against each other's chests.

The air had cleared between them. Santino felt less deceptive now that he'd confronted their affair in the open. Christov roiled in hidden guilt. He shouldn't have done what he did with Lalienna. Letting her come to his rooms. Sleep in his bed. Brought her to orgasm with his fingers, with his tongue. Fuck... A hidden three-way love triangle. Right out of some softcore porno. He still wanted to show her that video. And he'd learn to accept that his relationship with his employer was always going to be a family affair. Whether he wanted to or not. Singapore was ages ago. Years ago. They'd never come back to that intimacy together. They'd gotten close. They'd slept in each other's beds. They'd kissed and fondled each other. Tino had let him suck him off, once... twice... Maybe more. Much more. And it had been incredible. But it was a dream now. Lalienna was here. And he was crossing the invisible line.

Finally, the two men separated. Christov lingered. Closer than he should. He came forward, putting down his cigarette and pulling Tino's out of his lips. He watched his boss blow out the plume of smoke he'd held from the corner of his mouth. And the moment he was done, he came forward and kissed him. Slow... gentle. Just lips touching. Nothing more.

Santino accepted the kiss. Opened his mouth a little. Telling the other man it was okay. So it built. Deeper. They're tongues exchanged an embrace and both men recognized that there was still very much a searing flame of passion between them. Unrecognized. Denied. But it existed. There were fireworks. It felt good. Comfortable. It wasn't pretentious or unsolicited. It was just relaxed. Lazy. Like sex on a late Sunday morning. They pulled away at last. Both men sighed deeply. Smiling at each other. Taking their coffee cups and cigarettes again.

"So... Santino... You breaking up with me? For Lalienna?" He smirked. Cheeky grin. He wasn't going to let this break him down.

"Yeah... for Lalienna. She's my main squeeze now. She's special. So I'm still your boss. But I'm definitely breaking up with you." Both men laughed. This felt good too. Bittersweet. But good.

"'Kay... I'm kinda pissed about it. But, she's a special girl. So I'll allow it. Because I like her too. And she has a great ass. And incredible tits. And I already got deep into her skin when I gave her that tattoo. So in a way, I've kinda already fucked her for you." That was dirty, he shouldn't have gone that far. But he didn't care. Tino laughed it off with a smirk.

"Well... if anyone was gonna honour fuck her, I'd be glad for it to be you. Because... the way she is right now...I don't think I'll be getting laid anytime soon." Tino came forward off the lounge and crushed his smoke into the ashtray. Rising to his feet and blowing out the last of the cigarette through his lips.

"She'll come 'round boss. Just give her time. She's raw you know. Girls on their periods are edgy. She's young. She needs to be looked after. Just like Ares. "

"Pfffft! Don't start me on Ares. I know she's crushing on Lali, hard."

"She'll behave. I'll get her to take it easy. Back off."

"Grazie." (Thanks) Tino said.

"Prego." (You are welcome) Chris replied watching as his employer and one-time lover re-entered the house. He didn't want to go in just yet. The air felt good against his skin. He'd have another smoke first. Clear his head a bit. He'd just been dumped, after all. It was heavy. And he still had to work for the man that dumped him. That would take adjusting. He could do this. Besides. They had a distraction now. He'd visit Lali later with the puppy. Offer to take them both for their first walk around the block. He still wanted to show her that video. Now he wanted to up the steaks. Bet some money on it. They didn't make it clear how they'd determine the winner. But he knew, deep in his heart. He'd end up back between her legs, eating her out. No time soon. Not while she was in the aftermath of abortion. But one day she'd need him. And she knew what to do. Just knock on his door. He'd let her in.

He was her attack dog after all.

Part Two

It wasn't right.

His thoughts screamed it. Even though his body rejected his mind's reasoning. Even though she was overwhelming him with her touch. Leaving him aching, raw. There was something... something about her. He couldn't put his finger on it. It was slipping. It just wasn't right.

And he adored the way she kissed him. Deep, hungry. Chasing his tongue. Cheeky minx. He purred against her lips. Sighing, giving over. Laughing happily against the kiss. His thoughts again interfered, he should have  been ashamed of himself. Tainting her passion when his kiss had just been shared amongst the nerve undulating high of cocaine and inside Christov's mouth. He should have at least brushed his teeth to spare her tasting the remnants of the other man's saliva. That was... illicit. Dirty. He wondered about how she felt, witnessing that scene downstairs. It had been intense. Fuelled by aggravation that started extremely sincere, but when he realized the absolute ridiculous nature of the insult he spat, whatever he was angry about just.. disappeared into the ether. And he was unable to keep a straight face. Nor could Christov. That was wrong. Really wrong. She shouldn't have been subjected to that. Here he was a mere month prior lecturing her, snapping like a dog against her about her indiscretion and infidelity with another woman and he had committed virtually the same sin directly in front of her.

Was she too high to realize what was going on?

He wondered if he'd have to explain himself in time.

He couldn't believe it. This is really what consumed his thoughts even as his lover was lacing her tongue against his throat. Lower.. along his chest. His hands found her back, her silken hair...

"Yeah... yeah that's it baby... more...Uh... yes..." She had him. His nipple in her mouth. Fuck.... fuck he loved it when she did that. He arched off the bed, desperate for contact. His body raging between his thighs. The ache in his manhood becoming blinding. All encompassing. It had been ages since he fucked a woman while high on coke. He loved doing it. Every sensation just heightened a thousand fold. She was edging him beautifully. He was whimpering mess of red desire beneath her lips.

Christov flooded his thoughts again. They'd both been high that night in Singapore. Deep in the underground where they shouldn't have been. They'd escaped by the skin of their teeth. And those possessing drugs of any kind were sentenced to almost imidiate execution without trial. The nation had little respect for foreigners and aliens bringing their filthy narcotics into their clean land. They had both been bleeding. Christov was a dog. He'd begun by wiping the blood from Tino's lips first with his fingers, apologizing for not having served better. Then with his kiss. What came over the two men in that backstreet industrial alleyway was inexplicable. They tore at each other's clothes. Pushed each other against the slightly greasy brickwork and kissed. Not the cordial, respectful, chaste kisses of brothers. No. This had gotten deeper. Darker. They confessed things to each other without saying a word. Just with their eyes. That they wanted to fuck. To break the rules. Because there were some lines that you didn't cross in the Camorra. That honor and family was the most sanctimonious. You just didn't do it. Confused business with pleasured. Blurred the line between colleagues and lovers.

But they did... They did.

That line was crossed.

And they both got off on it with reckless abandon.

They'd never say a word. They'd take this secret to their graves. No one would have to know. But they did. Even though they never said a word to the rest of the guard, they seemed to intrinsically figure it out for themselves. And they weren't angry about it. Why? Because he was their employer, maybe. Because they were wearing his money and riding on his coat tails? Perhaps. Because they were Italian and bisexuality was as normal as the air you breathed. Also a strong possibility. Because they reasoned that his heart wasn't in it entirely. Because his primary focus had always been on women. True. True.

Whatever it was, they relaxed about him. And in the privacy of his estate he relaxed the rules on them as well. He'd know for a while that Curtis and Tony were going likely going steady. Even though they never talked about it and sought to take women as their partners. Mostly for show. Because it was better if Lorenzo didn't have to think too hard about what his High Guard was really like.

He'd been married for almost thirty years. He wouldn't understand anyway. Not without explosive repercussions. They didn't need that.

So Christov never let it go. That one night in Singapore. When they were strung out on cocaine and drunk on fear and pain and pressure. Running from their enemies, running from the law. Running from themselves.

They accepted each other a lot more readily than they should have. But it had felt good.

Ridiculous. He pushed the thoughts of the other man away. Lalienna was working his skin. Descending his abs and stripping him of his will to fight her. Her kisses were hot, burning. He could hear himself begging. But he sounded as though it was coming from somewhere else in the room. It was the coke. He wasn't fighting the high. He was rolling with it. He wanted it... His cock in her mouth... Those deep, decadent strokes. Fuck it. He'd bend her over the bed and take her from behind. He was wild with the desire to see his body covered in her blood. It was a fantasy. A filthy illusion that suggested he'd taken her virginity. She was bleeding for him. She always bled for him.

The scar... healing at her throat that alluded to his initial. He pulled her hair back just so he could see the 'S'. Hear her whimper.

"You high right now, baby?" He needed to know... She didn't feel right. She didn't look or sound right all night since she came downstairs.

"Lali... Tesoro, sei alto?" (Treasure, are you high?) She lapped at his groin, teasing him with her tongue before looking up at him from her knees. Her eyes unfocused. She looked pale. Weakening. She wasn't there. And he knew what that was liked. He'd fucked strung out whores before that made offers to do things that were inhumane just so long as they got enough cash to make it for the next hit.

"Mm? Sort of Papi... painkillers." He nodded shifting back from her. Teasing her. She giggled at his resistance. His gentle fingertips caressed her jaw.

"Do you feel good right now?" He whispered hotly. Praying for an answer.

"Sure... sure I'm okay, Papi... really... Just, let me love you. I've been so bad-"

"You haven't, amore, you've been human. That's no sin."

"I don't deserve-"

"Yes you do... You do angel, you deserve my love. Don't contest it. Now, get up... Up... off your knees. I've changed my mind about what I want."

She hesitated. It was visible and direct and stiff. Unable to hide herself. He tensed. Leaning back against the bed. His fingers working the zip to his fly.

"Non dovremmo farlo quando sei in questa condizione." (We shouldn't do this when you're in this condition.) He swung his legs around her, got off the bed. Fuck... Everything hurt. He'd denied himself her touch for a month. They'd barely been afforded a moment's privacy together and now that they had the perfect opportunity his fucking conscience got in the way.

She huffed angrily. Dejected. He never refused her. This was a first. She wasn't accustomed to his lack of submission. She'd been good at making him fold to her will. Making him submit. Making him cum. And he wanted to. Now more than ever, but he couldn't. This wasn't right.

"Papi, come on... don't be like that... Come back to bed. I wanna make your feel good."

"And I want you to... more than anything, bella mia... but this.. I can't. You're a mess. Have you seen yourself in a mirror?"

"You're fucking high, Papi... " She laughed at him, indignant in disbelief. She was on her feet and following him around the room.

"Have you looked at yourself? You don't look crash hot either."

"Don't deflect on me, Lalienna.. we're talking about you here."

"Words... too hard.. Just.. feel." She was touching him, his bare chest. His arms. He was weak for her. He wanted her. He raked his hands through his hair and pulled away though it killed him to do it.

"Why aren't you eating?"

"Wha?"

"I said, why aren't you eating, Lalienna? Hmm? I know you haven't touched a plate in over 24 hours. Ares told me you keep refusing food. We've talked about this, we're not going down this road. I've been there, done that. Bulimia, eating disorders. You're not going there, amore. I won't let you."

"It's not like that, Papi... I just.. get into moods, 'kay? I don't feel like food right now."

"But will you?"

"I'm gaining weight... it's gross.." She was rambling, dejected. Her eyes unfocused.

"In your imagination, maybe. Not on your body. Have you seen yourself? You're a walking supermodel, baby girl. You've practically got the body of a prepubescent boy were it not for your hips and breasts. You and Ares could be confused for each other, from behind."

She pushed at him, hard. Knocking him off balance so that he landed on the ottoman at the foot of the bed.

"You're killing the mood, Papi... this isn't sexy anymore."

"No, it isn't. But you are. Even if you're fucked up. I still want you. Need you. I wanna do things to you that I've been holding back for too long. Gentle... loving. Nothing hard. Nothing dangerous, nothing that pulls you out of your comfort zone."

She purred his name. Sinking back to her knees between his legs. And he opened them for her. Inviting her. He took her hand then, and pressed it right atop his pulsing heat. Hard for her still as it strained against his grey trousers.

"Feel that? Hmm? That there.. baby girl... It's all for you. I'm yours. Every inch belongs to your heart and soul and body."

"Papi's big." She giggled, mischievous eyes. Hungry... but not.. Something still wasn't right. So he pushed her.

"Lali... what's going on? Between us? Right now?" Her eyes changed in response. She pushed away. He knew it. He fucking knew it.

"Cosa non mi stai dicendo?" (What aren't you telling me?)

"I don't know what I want anymore! I'm scared okay? I'm scared of us.. of you! I'm scared of myself." Tears, her eyes filled and began to drain for the second time that night. He hated this. Seeing her cry like this. It was killing him.

He got up, lifting her from her knees and then arranging her in his arms. He plucked her bodily off the floor. She weighed little that was of any consequence. And she didn't resist him. So he carried her back to the bed and laid her down gently. Taking off his shirt that she wore beautifully. Wanting to take off her underwear. But she whimpered and refused him. He didn't care if she bled through the sheets. He had a mattress protector anyway.  Everything was washable. But she didn't want her lace removed. So he respected that and left her a moment to strip himself naked. His clothes joining hers on the floor... No, he thought better of it. He didn't want her to suffer. So he picked them up. Shook them out and hung them neatly on the back of his dressing chair before striding back to take residence atop the bed with her.

He was tired after all. And the building urge for release was stripping him of his will to think clearly. It didn't matter. He'd be happy to deny himself now that he had her. She'd love him when she was better. They had all the time in the world together. She was his Mistress now. They'd make this up to each other.

He told her so as he covered them over under the rich sheets and elegant black quilt. He hugged her to him. Listened to her, for moments as she cried in his arms. Burying her face against his neck. His shoulder wet with her tears. He shushed her lovingly. Gently. His tender hands at her back. Caressing circles on her skin.

"It's okay...baby girl... It's okay... It's like the phase of the moon... the tides of the sea. Today you'll feel impossible. Run down... Worn out. Tomorrow... it will pass. It will always pass. We don't have to rush things anymore. You're safe now that you're with me. I won't.... I fuck this up for us. We're both not at our best right now. It's been a long week and its only just begun. Sleep, baby. Just sleep. Tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow when you wake I'll have a new gift for you. A surprise. Something that will make you forget about everything you're going through. Everything you've suffered. Sleep. Heal. Sleep."

God... he thought to himself. She was an angel. He'd torn off her wings when he forced himself within her. Again when he cut her. And she was bleeding out the moment he laid eyes on her. Now she was bleeding again and he could almost taste it. No wonder he was offending her. He almost wanted to attend the bathroom, to shower and brush his teeth and make himself presentable for her. But, her weight was heavy against him. The bed was soft and sleep was calling . Like a siren.

He closed his eyes a moment.

"I love you, Lalienna...."

He drifted on that empty ocean.

He wasn't alone this time.

She was beside him.

Part One.

Across the oceans, as the sun had set on a wet English afternoon, Judeth Clayton had arrived by private car and been deposited upon the street at the doors of The Continental London. She wore a magnificent floor-length ebony evening gown designed and hand made in Persia with flowing caped sleeves. Her dark hair was pinned in elegant coils and waves about her head. From her ears, she wore singular white pearls, a set that complimented their matching necklace as it adorned her décolleté. Upon her feet, she wore spectacular black Christian Louboutin heels whose timeless red soles were Judeth's absolute trademark. The picture of refinement. The car door was held open for her exit and as she was escorted along the red carpet that led to the hotel doors that were also held by doorman for her arrival. She was flanked by two guards. A man and woman in immaculate black suits. They were inescapable and silent. And they watched the Hand Maid like a hawk. Before leaving the White Tower of London, they had searched the contents of her evening clutch, checking her phone for unsolicited messages and calls. Rifling through her belongings where they displaced her lipstick, pen, tampons and other inconsequential trifles that were typical of a woman's evening purse. Her belongings were insignificant to their interest. What they searched for were pills, hyperaemic needles, and morphine vials. For that was the source of their employment in this mission.

Master Karth Piaf had made it clear that they were to ensure the woman was at no time left unattended or be remotely permitted to interact with, engage or otherwise fraternise with anyone or anything that even remotely looked like they were capable or allowing her to indulge even in the illusion of narcotic use. The pair that served her now were one of two sets of four total guards from Athena's security detail that were assigned to monitor the Hand Maid day and night without fail. They worked in 12 hour shifts between them, rotating at 6AM and 6PM respectively. Their tireless routine was not once interrupted. They had attended to this uneventful and tedious duty without fail or incident every day for the past two months. Karth paid them a generous four digit wage and a single gold coin for every shift they completed where they could report back that Judeth had not evaded their notice or succum to her visceral urge to inject herself. Yes, it was a mindlessly boring task watching the 38 year old woman day in and day out attend to a monotonous routine. But they did not mind entirely for it kept them from the field of battle and off the streets. They were breifed that if questioned as to why they kept up this peerless duty, that the lady was on "death watch". Athena forbade her Hand Maids the luxury of suicide and Judeth's mental health had deteriorated greatly under the strain of high-functioning depression since Lalienna's banishment from the Iron Fortuna Syndicate. The misinformation was readily accepted. The four rotating guards were paid to keep the true meaning of their duty absolute secret on pain of death. They were hand selected by Karth Piaf for their loyal and unshakable qualities amongst hundreds of possible candidates from Athena's Black Guard. They knew what Karth was capable of. Iron Fortuna was revered and feared for its brutal human torture techniques. They weren't about to rock the boat.

Thus, when their search of Judeth's purse revealed nothing that they considered incriminating; they handed it back with a wordless nod. She snatched the designer clutch with abject fury. Her patience was running short with this ridiculous facade. Karth had kept to his word. She was never given a moment's privacy. Not to eat, sleep, work, pray, study, bathe or relieve herself. She had done everything Karth had demanded of her, handing over her list of street and professional drug dealers across the city of London. Her rooms were searched daily. Her phones, laptops, email accounts, text messages and files were scrutinised without mercy. Twice daily she attended Doctor Tanis's treatment rooms to have herself injected painfully with detoxification substances that were administered to reduce her borderline biblical morphine withdrawals. To the rest of the world she appeared outwardly normal. In so much as her removed and cold exterior could facilitate. She only ever showed any semblance of sincere human emotion when in the presence of her son, Philip, who adored and embraced his mother, singing her praises and demanding her attention as he revealed all he'd learned in his school rooms. Those moments of matriarchal tenderness were short lived as the boy was removed from her presence to attend his studies and she forced to attend endless council meetings with the Queen and her advisor's facilitators, debtors and underlings. Athena had denied her permission to return to the field on any further espionage missions until Karth and Doctor Tanis cleared her of being a danger to herself. A concept she found repugnant and laughable.

Alas, she was forced to submit to Karth's will, for he held her son a captive pawn over her, threatening to reveal her addiction if she relapsed. His goal was clear and unquestionable. He'd hide the sin of her drug addiction from the world at any cost, but in turn she would get clean. Karth was never a man that made idle threats. She'd tasted his tortuous wrath more than once. Even if his intentions were pure, it was clear that he and the deceased Gregory Piaf had very much been brothers. Both of the men were disposed to monstrous acts of sinister violence against women.

Judeth was left without a choice. He meant well for her. She knew this. But she didn't expect this surveillance mission to prolong more than a month before he'd get tired of his little game, acknowledge her good behaviour and return her freedom. As the weeks rolled on in London, she realized she had been sorely mistaken. And wondered to herself, how much longer he'd keep this bullshit up for?

Alas, she was escorted by these guards into the familiar glittering warmth of the hotel. It's lobby fireplaces crackled happily to keep out London's Autumn chill and a dozen or more patrons looked on admirably at the statuesque woman and her security detail. Wondering as to who she was and why she appeared so important. Judeth kept her eyes forward and walked the length of lobbys red carpet with elegant strides approaching the grand marble desk and being met by the tender smiles of the Iris twins that beamed at her happily. It was almost 8 o'clock.

"Welcome back, Lady Clayton!"  Began Chantelle

"To The Continental London!" Finished Chervonne.

"Sir Sable is expecting you in the dining room." The blonde ladies trilled together. In perfect pitched unison. The words spoken in stereo.  They were still positively feline in their elegant mannerism and reminded Judeth very much of a pair of sleek Siamese cats. Their deep blue eyes alluring and twinkling with promised mischief. 

Completely beautiful. Judeth offered the ladies a disarming smile and nodded politely before turning off to the right and following the marble floor to the famous hotel dining room. Still flanked by her guards that walked three paces behind her at all times and would not deviate no matter what.

Closed off from the other diners, Judeth was led by the attending maître d'hôtel to the exclusive and private dining quarters of the hotel concierge. The prestigious and decadent 'Table Twenty One' was a positively royal affair with a floral centerpiece adorned with white tiger lilies, tulips, carnations and roses; bordered by a sterling silver candelabra that bathed the white linen, its luxury china and sparkling cutlery in the glow of four candles. Together this complimented the low light of the dimmed chandelier above them. The dining chairs were overstuffed French provincial elegance. Two black and white uniformed waiters in white gloves stood to discreet attention in the corner of the room with their silver meal carts and exotic culinary delights freshly prepared and covered over by silver serving domes. All of this was positively majestic in terms of elegance and refinement. But none of the grandeur of the private dining room held a candle compared to the man that stood at the head of the table and stalked his way around it to stand at proud attention in a faultless silver-grey three-piece dinner suit. That was The Continental London's concierge, Jermey's personal retainer and confidant. The gentleman was known to the London criminal underworld as Sable.

He was breath-taking to behold. His chestnut brunette hair combed delicately away from his statuesque features.  His eyes were the deepest blue and his beard and mustache were the picture of masculine elegance.  The scent of his cologne arrested her senses. Exotic dark spices, rich Italian leather, mid notes of Winter rose and top notes of sandalwood.  Her breath caught in her throat. He was everything a classical male Adonis could captivate. He didn't say a word, but his eyes filled with a sincere and intimate joy as they took in her regal beauty. She was as glorious and arresting to him as she thought him to be of her. He came forward on elegant strides and she met him, raising her right hand and presenting her emerald and gold ring. His lips found the stone, sighing quietly as he bent his head in reverence to the arresting woman before him. He dared... his lips found her knuckles, she did not retract her hand as his kiss rested warmly atop her bare skin. He heard her sigh... inaudible, she suppressed a shudder but he noted the intake of breath as her breasts heaved beneath the plunging neckline of her gown. It was all she could do not to swoon in his presence. He was purely glorious and entirely disarming. And when at last he rose and smiled at her it was with tenderness and complete sincerity. He'd not seen her face since the day he had delivered the blood oath marker she had requested to burden Lalienna with at the Tower. He noted, her eyes appeared colder. Her beauty sharper... tempered into a super models near otherworldly, exiguous charm. There were shadows and dark secrets, endless suffering under the veil of her sea green eyes. Her cosmetics had been applied by a master's practiced hands. But that did not detract from what he saw reflected just beneath the woman's determined veneer. Hunger... sufferance... He'd seen it at the Tower. He'd seen it build in her over the years for every time she entered the hotel and sought safe harbor in his walls. In his private rooms.  She was, detached... disconnected from the world around her. Something about her demeanor always suggested she was both looking at you and through you at the same time. Reading between the lines, off the page... into your soul. The cracks were starting to come through. He'd been one of her morphine suppliers for extended periods of time after battles and altercations. He'd injected her personally. Directly into the vein and watched her chase the dragon. He'd received her message two months ago that said she wished to make a reservation for M. Holt. That was a coded arrangement of words exclusively understood by them alone. It meant her addiction had been uncovered. The repercussions would be devastating. He destroyed any evidence of her supply that linked back to him. He did it instantly to protect her. But he knew what would come its place would be devasting.

He greeted her warmly, tender tone from his silken tongue. And did not fail to note the guards at her back. Two. One male, one female. Hired muscle with a mission. Athena's security detail. The Black Guard. Elite pawns, but pawns none the less. Expendable. He'd not tolerate them in his presence infringing on his privacy with this woman in his own hotel. They had to go.

" Alex Rothman and Margaret Styl, am I correct?" He addressed the pair sharply.

"Aye, that be us, Sir Sable. A good evening to you." Replied the man named Alex. Margaret nodded in wordless approval. Sable continued,

"And tell me, Sir, Madam, what brings you to our fine hotel this evening?" Pointless question. He knew exactly what was going on. But he wanted a confession.

"We have orders from Master Piaf senior to keep Mistress Clayton under twenty-four hour surveillance, Sir. Under no circumstances is she to leave our sight. Thus we escort her to your fine company this evening. We beg of you, dine and enjoy yourselves. We will be as silent and inconspicuous as flies on the wall. You needn't concern yourself with our attendance. We are merely here to monitor the Lady's behaviors and ensure she does not deteriorate." Answered Alex Rothman in fluid, Welsh accent. His companion Margaret nodded in approval.

"I see." Sable returned, nodding his head curtly. He smiled at Judeth politely, almost apologetically and returned his attention to Alex Rothman.

"And tell me, Mr. Rothman... how has your wife been keeping? I'm given to understand the dear lady birthed your...what was it... second child this May, if I'm not very much mistaken?"

He'd chosen his words carefully... and watched, entertained as the colour drained from Margaret Styl's face. She fought to maintain composure. This... this had been news to her. She shot Alex a withering glance. Alex... began to sweat at his brow.

"I...I... Uh... that is..yes... Yes Sir Sable, she is well. T-thank you for asking, Sir..."

"And, tell me... Has she become privy to your evening affairs with Miss Styl at your side there?" Sable pressed... ruthless. Like a blade. Margaret looked infuriated. Positively sick to the stomach.

"You never mentioned you had a wife, Mr. Rothman." She snapped at last, her brows arching high.

"No Miss. Styl, I wouldn't concern yourself. I dare say there are a great deal many things in this profession of ours that Mr. Rothman is likely to keep from you if it means you'll continue to warm his bed on the cold and lonely evenings of the coming Winter. I dare say you do it far better than Mrs. Rothman ever could, encumbered as she is with two baby boys."

Sable's words fell like a revelation upon Margaret's lap.

"You fucking bastard!" She erupted, turning slap Alex fair upon the mouth. Rothman took the blow with stunned ignorance, turning his head back to register the shock.

"Margo... please... you need to let me explain." Alex stammered out

"Why use words Mr. Rothman? I have a perfectly good video of your indiscretions that I'm certain Miss. Styl would be all too pleased to witness." Sable drawled dispassionately. His eyes twinkling in sadistic amusement. They were like insects to him these creatures, these lowly guards.

"And I will show her.... even if she has to be tied down to the chair.... For you see Miss.  Styl, you are not the only woman whom Mr. Rothman makes good his affections with. Our video surveillance shows many private visitations to and from The Red Door with... frequent abandon."

"Sable, you fucking bastard! You're going to ruin me, man!" Alex snapped.

"Nonsense Mr. Rothman, you've rather already done that for yourself. I merely had the opportunity to witness your fall from grace. And your repeated rutting of Miss. Styl in our hotel car park. You really should lock your doors, Mr. Rothman. It's a rough crowd out there, in the dark."

Now Margaret was whimpering, her eyes flooding with tears, her hand flew to her mouth in abject horror as she looked the man at her side over and shook her head no. The words died in her throat.

"What the fuck do you want from me Sable? What's it gonna cost me to keep you fuckin' quiet about this?" Rothman was distraught. Furious in his anger, he paced forward and Judeth stepped out of the way, disinterested in being caught in the crossfire of this argument.

Sable smiled however. And it was the smile of a shark that knew he had his prey on its dying breath.

"How much is Master Piaf paying you to guard Judeth Clayton?" He asked.

"Two thousand Pounds a week, a gold coin per shift for every time we report no incident for her." He bit out vehemently.

"I'll double it. " Sable replied. "I'll give you four thousand Pounds and two hundred gold coins. Plus, I'll destroy the videos of you and Margaret fucking in my hotel if you turn on your heel, and attend the bar for the duration of Judeth's stay in my company. Whatever menial task Karth has put you up for, I can assure you I'm more than a thousand times equal to. Now... take Miss. Styl with you and buy the poor woman a drink. She looks as though she may either spit fire or suffer nervous collapse. Do not leave the hotel grounds. You may collect Lady Clayton when I decide to release her back into your hands for return to The Tower, when and only when I see fit. Do I make myself clear?"

Alex was beside himself, Margaret was openly weeping in infuriated shame. He glared poison daggers at the hotel concierge but relented, dragging his colleague and lover out of the private dining room.  The maître d' shut the door behind them.

Finally, Judeth and Sable were left alone.

His attention returned to the White Woman who rested her hands on the back of her dining chair and looked at him with an intensely satisfied smile.

"Well played, Sir Sable... Well played indeed." Invigorated, Sable helped the lady into her chair before rounding the table and taking his own. The moment they were seated the waiters came forward to immediately grace the table with wine and their dinner plates. Sable thanked and dismissed the wait staff. The moment the door closed... Judeth realized, she and Sable were finally safe...and completely and entirely alone.

"It's been a very long time since I laid eyes on you last, Lady Clayton. I propose a toast to our eventful reunion. " Said Sable, raising his red wineglass in invitation.

Judeth met it with own, a clink of approval as the glasses kissed before both came away and deposited their blood red contents into the lips of their respective holders. The toast complete. The glasses were set down.

Sable and Judeth talked. Over dinner. Three courses, two wines, sparkling Italian mineral water and finally, dessert and coffee.

Sable leaned forward with his brass lighter igniting the lady's cigarette before attending his own. They were comfortable in each other's company. In conversation and in silence. They were old friends. Very old friends. With history. Deep history. Dark history. Intimate history. They knew things about each other they weren't certain they understood about themselves. It was stimulating, enlightening exchanging wits, ideas, ideologies, theories, hopes, dreams and desires with one another. The way only solid companions with a similar wavelength and rich mentality could encapsulate and platonically adore one another. For those two hours, over that sumptuous French dinner, Judeth and Sable danced with words. Complimented each other. Finished one another's sentences. They were both very much alive... and Judeth... for once...she was very much present. In the moment. Fully focused. Everything in sharp detail and attentive comparison. She came alive. Truly. Fully. And it was not the wine. It was not the detoxant that protected her internal organs from catastrophic failure. It was him. Sable. His presence, his very existence was doing this for her. Drawing her, like thread through a weaver's table and building her into a tapestry of rich ornamentation. She didn't need artificial stimulants to get this high. She was alive and had a living breathing son. That was enough for her. In this moment. He was enough for her. More than enough.

So he took his chance. Now that she was in bloom. A flower whose petals were opened before him.

He came to her, words like the wings of a passing butterfly.

"Judeth.... Darling... What are we to do about your Lalienna?"

She exhaled the smoke she held from her lips, the plume billowed into the air and disappeared floating away. He watched her shudder and immediately regretted his decision. He didn't want to watch her fade.

"I don't want him to have her, Sable. I don't want anyone to have her. Save for you and Jeremy. You're the only people in this entire fucking world that I dare trust with my life. And hers."

"You know this time would come though, surely? A blossoming young woman like Lalienna was always going to draw attention. Unwanted or otherwise. We could only ever host her as our ward indefinitely."

"She didn't last a single night, Sable. Not one... The moment she walked through your doors, that bastard D'Antonio and his gang of Italian street thugs had their claws in her. They're vultures, the Camorra. Animals."

"They're steadfast, Judeth. If nothing else, they're loyal to the crown. Loyal to us. They believe in family, solidarity to the death. They'll protect her."

"He fucked her."

"Santino?"

"Who else?"

Sable nodded. He knew the truth. He'd seen the video. It was almost as though he'd filmed it himself. He wouldn't let Judeth know what he knew though. He sighed heavily. Refilling her wine glass and then refilling his own. This was their second bottle of the night. He felt they'd need more for what was likely to come.

"I think, you need to let go a little, darling. And stop playing the wounded martyr all the time. It doesn't suit you."

"Don't insult my intelligence, Sable, I'm not in the mood for your cuts at my tarnished humility. There's nothing martyr-like about grieving the loss of a daughter, in marriage, separation, adoptive or otherwise. "

"That's not what I meant and you know it. But if you're going to force my hand-"

"I'm always interested in forcing your hand," She returned sharply,

"Then.. listen to me when I tell you, you've done the right thing. Having Lorenzo draw up this contract for her probation was a masterstroke. Very clever indeed. But it's not going to last. Lalienna is peerless if she was trained to be a faction of what you're like. He's never going to let her go. And sooner or later you're going to have to admit defeat, Judeth. This is outside of your control. You need to accept that and stop letting it eat you alive. The moment you make peace with this realization is the moment you stop taking to the needle to silence the demons in your head. "

His words seemed to cut at her. He didn't mean to. He was the last person in the world that wanted to watch her bleed.

"Judeth... Darling... You can't go on like this. Destroying yourself. Over things you can't control. Things you'll never control. There's hope while you breathe, while you live. But what you're doing... You're not living... You're barely existing. You've lost control. Of everything. Including yourself."

Silence between them. Judeth smoked... and watched his eyes. Warm... delicate, sincere. Those eyes saw through her. Into her. She was aching.

"So what do you propose?" She asked at last.

"Come back to me. Here... right now. Leave the dead in their graves where they belong with the ghosts and the ashes... But come to me. Like you once used to."

"Don't... do this to me, Sable... I can't."

"You can."

"I won't."

"You will."

"Sable, for God's sake have mercy... My husband's just been killed."

"You never loved him, Judeth. You took his hand in marriage because he promised you shelter he didn't have. He promised you a daughter and retirement from servitude to Athena... But he only ever had his own interests in mind. You know this."

"I know."

"It's not too late to break free." He pressed her, drawing his chair closer now, around the table so he could sit with his knees to either side of her thighs. Close... So she could drown in his presence. He was overwhelming her. Intoxicating her. And he was being cruel about watching her suffocate.

"Athena won't ever let me go... Not until Philip is married to her daughter."

"In what? Ten years time from now? When he's twenty four and you're a hollow husk of subdued madness screaming against the chains of your enslavement? Fuck that! Fuck them, Athena included. Judeth... come to me. I want you. I've always wanted you. You should have never married Gregory, he was a demon to you."

"Sable, please... I didn't have a choice. I had my duty."

"Fuck your duty. You had me and you know I could be twice the man he ever was. He raped you, Judeth... You married him, lost his daughters in torrents of blood and he still fucking raped you. Repeatedly. And you let him do it to y-"

His words shocked into silence, for Judeth threw her wine in his face, horrified... then rose and pitched the glass with such force it sliced through the air like an arrow and exploded into a hundred shards as it impacted against the back of the dining room wall.

"Don't.... do this to me.... Sable.... please.... Please... I'm begging you." The tears came. Slipping over her waterline. He watched them track a path across her cheeks and disappear away onto the floor. He dropped his eyes and wiped at his face with her linen napkin. Irritated. Red wine stained Italian silk. He'd have to take his clothes to the laundry as quickly as possible to ensure the damage would not be irreversible. This outfit had been hand-tailored and cost a fortune in imported luxury fabrics.

He met her eyes again. His heart was breaking in his chest. The light had gone from her eyes... He'd had it there. For a moment. He'd seen it. Ignited like fire. Pure. Beautiful. She was so alive. And now... crushed in her fury. In her depravity. In her loss and suffering. She was empty again. Hollow. A reflection of what a woman could have been. Would have been... If only her ex-husband had not treated her so badly. She might have survived her traumas. Like this. She wasn't surviving. She was dead.

So then what attracted him to her so powerfully.... if not his ravenous desire for necrophilia?

He got to his feet. And launched for her. His hand at her throat, she gasped, frantic as he pinched at her airwaves for a moment then spun her around, forcing her hips to butt against the dinner table. Trapping her between the timber and his body. And she flung out her arms, meaning to dislodge him, but he was faster and had drunk less wine. He caught her upper arms and pinned them back against his chest with one arm, the other, with its free hand took her throat again and brought her head back forcing it to rest against his shoulder. And he felt it... The rush of power take him. Flood his veins. Soak his mind. Drive his libido with something sadistic, twisted. His hot breath in her ear. She was tense... ready to react. To respond on basic instinct because she was a fighter, a warrior. And he knew it. He knew she could have come up with at least a dozen different ways to break out of his grip right now and break his arms, his face and his ribcage if she wanted to. But she didn't. She didn't. She let him hold her... subdue her like this. Dominate and control her. She shivered against him. Feeling the heat of his manhood as it pressed into her rear. Feeling her restraint fail her. Too much suffering... Too much red wine. He was weakening her... Overpowering her with every passing moment.

"Stop fighting..." He whispered, against her earlobe. "Give in to me..."

She tensed... struggled. He held her tighter... Watching. The way her breasts rose and fell against her gown... Intoxicated by the surge of power that radiated out of her skin. His lust was ascending. For her flesh... for her blood.

"What do you want from me, Sable?"

"One night...." He breathed. "In my bed."

"I can't... Please.... Don't make me do this."

"One night... Judeth... Just come with me... Taste it... Against your tongue... Against your skin. One night is all it takes to remind you,  you're still human. You're still alive. That his memory won't be the tombstone that marks your departure from this wretched world."

"It won't be me... You'll be taking." She breathed the words. Barely an echo. Her lips moved but her body was betraying her. She was losing the will to resist him. He was kissing her now. Her skin sparked where his lips touched her. He wanted her. Needed her to submit entirely. To give in. To give way. To let him in. Not just inside her body... inside her head. Even if he had to make her bleed. Under the kiss of his whip. Straining against the bonds of his black velvet rope and insatiable passion. He'd have her this night. He'd tasted her blood before... And he wanted more.

"Beg for me...." He breathed... Lacing the edges of his teeth to her shoulder edge of her neck, just before the junction of her shoulder. She shuddered against him. A roll of electric current exploded like fireworks against her spine. She sucked in the air... But he was drowning her.

"I can't... do this.... Sable... Please... please..." She weakened against him entirely, it took every ounce of strength she had. She said the words he needed to hear in that moment.

"I'm begging you... Sable Ducourt... Release me."

That was enough. It was all he needed. She wasn't ready. And he wasn't about to rape her the way Gregory had. He loved her. Had done so for years. Suffering in silence. She wouldn't let him save her. Even though he begged her to. She wouldn't let him save her now either. He let her go. Stepped away. She deserved her freedom. Precious flower. Black swan. Dark Angel.

She turned to face him.

They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Until she came forward of her own will. Surrounded him in her embrace. She yielded her lips to his.

She was alive still.

Very much so.

In the depths of that kiss.

She was drowning him now.

And he was letting her drag him under.

Tears formed in her jade eyes, lip quivering slightly. She held back a sob, taking a breath.

“You…you never wanted me?” It felt as though her heart was breaking. Literally. The strings of her cardiac muscles were snapping, leaving her in the worst pain she’s ever felt… and she’s felt a lot of shit. She’s been through the worst, through hell. But this…this was worse. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her lungs wouldn’t produce the oxygen needed to stay alive. God, make it stop. Stop it! She couldn’t handle it. She clutched her heart, squeezing the fabric of her shirt in her fists. Her eyes broke. They relayed how she felt. So so so so ruined. So torn. So…worthless. Thrown away.

————

@f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat // here is your angst. Do with it what you will. ;) have fun, my angel of sadness.

All You Can't Leave Behind

She gave this to me...

Before she left

And you made me watch it die.

How long did you think I'd let you live?

I would have ended you, Judeth

I had every intention

Now I'm not sure

You'll ever leave

{[ @f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat - @lalienna-dementriento ]}

Be seeing you, Mr. Wick

The entire room seemed to sway slightly under the low light of the lamps and the soothing glitter of the crystal chandelier overhead. The sun had set on a beautiful Roman afternoon and Santino was just wiping the last of a line of purest Colombian cocaine into his gums with his middle finger, enjoying the nerve frazzling high that came shimmering off the drug in a slow burn as he worked down his third glass of Sicilian merlot. Around him, his crew, his family; were seated at their ease about the drawing room. Reclining back into plush leather and decadent well stuffed lounges decorated with silk cushions. The pale walls and their contemporary modern classic elegance paired with the soothing sounds of relaxing deep house chill that played through the surround sound system soothed away their tension as though they were all great cats reclining about after a dramatic hunt.

The large glass and timber coffee table with its turned legs played host to more than harmless homoerotic Grecian art books. Marcus had laid out a crystal bordered mirror as a platter and used a blindingly sharp razor to work pure white powder worth well into the quadruple digits into thread-fine lines of illicit pleasure. They were rarely afforded the opportunity to dabble in recreational narcotic use. But, given Santino's leave now that they were allowed to relax off duty for a week; and the fact that London had strained them to the bone, they sought to relax that rigidity somewhat. 

And it felt good to do it. 

Beside him, on the lounge Tony and Curtis had already taken down three lines each snorted directly up their noses using rolled hundred Euro bills as a conduit to deposit the drug into their systems. Much to the claps and cheers of the others, Hector, who would mix his with a little vodka and drink it down and Tino who rather enjoyed seeing his boys become that intimate. The two men had locked eyes as they inhaled. The moment sensuous between them. They both eased back and smiled wolfishly. That had felt good. Too good. Tony thumbed a stray few grains of powder from Curtis's upper lip and Curtis grabbed for Tony's wrist before he could flick the debris away, instead making his friend watch as he sucked his thumb into his mouth with a moan. The remnants of the cocaine dissipated against his tongue. The air tensed between them. Charging with the heat of unabashed sexual tension. Curtis made no move to pull his thumb out of Tony's mouth. 

Wired, tense and edging as they were: all it would take was one wrong move from any of them and the threat of eruption would drench them all in the heat of searing forbidden passion. They didn't cross the line with each other. They were family. They had duty. They had honour. They had a responsibility to uphold. 

Christov opened his fucking mouth.

"Hey, you pair... C'mon man, don't tease us. We wanna watch you clean each other's guns."

Clapping and cheers. The clink of glasses. Footsteps as Ares and Lalienna finally joined them. The men separated with suggestive looks and took to their drinks. Tony eased back into working on correcting the aim of his combat pistol. A task which he wasn't sure he would be able to exact with the ache between his legs or the high that was coming on in a building wave. 

Beside him Curtis complained. 

"Fuck.... You know that shit is pure when it gets you this hard."

"Um, that's not the blow, amico." Marcus corrected as he racked a new row of lines for Hector's drink. 

"Behave you fags, the ladies are present now!" Santino laughed, sighing deeply into Lalienna's neck and searing at the heat of her touch as she sat atop his lap and caressed him. The couple shared an intimate moment of gentle kisses and embraces. Meanwhile, Ares set a little silver box of illicit pills atop the coffee table next to Marcus who thanked her graciously and helped himself to its contents which she explained to the room in her customary agile hands. 

'Pills boys. Grade 'A' Ecstasy from Berlin.' 

Finally, finally, she had gotten Lali downstairs. Man, she looked beautiful but fucked up. Her heart was bleeding for her friend. The worst part of all this was how helpless she felt to prevent Lalienna's suffering. At twenty-four, Ares had not yet developed the maternal instincts that were apparently essential and second nature to other women. Her lifestyle was a selfish, and highly self-indulgent cascade of events that disallowed her from considering her future or motherhood too deeply. As such, she could not fully comprehend nor imagine the turmoil her friend was churning through. But she proceeded to look over the young woman with veiled glances and declined the lines of cocaine that Marcus offered her so as she could be sober enough to monitor the young woman's behaviour closely. If the slightest thing seemed amiss, she was ready to react against the boys with vicious ferocity and absolute selflessness. That was the extent of her loyalty, considering the romantic moments and positively explosive bouts of heated passion the girls had exchanged since Lalienna's initiation had been approved by Gianna in London.  She accepted a glass of wine from Hector however, but nursed it only to be polite. She kept her hands busy by selecting one of the pistols on the table and proceeded with its unpacking to clean the cylinders and other parts of the weapon as Tony worked beside her. 

Meanwhile across the way, Santino was equally concerned with his lover's body language. Her emotions read pain and dissociated depression across her eyes. Her caresses were clinging, which he didn't mind. But she seemed tense on his lap. Was it her cycle that was affecting her so poorly or the pills she'd been taking? He had no basis of comparison. Whilst Lalienna buried her face into his neck he signed to Ares with one hand,

'She eat?' Fast gesture. His fingers returned to caressing her hip. Ares shook her head no and read the frustration in Tino's eyes. His brows furrowed. He was clearly pissed off. 

"You okay baby?" He murmured against her hair. The girl declined to answer but proceeded to tell him she loved him repeatedly and with heart-breaking sincerity. 

"Ti amo anch'io piccola."  (I love you too baby.) He whispered back, over and over. Meeting her eyes and melting under the innocence of her expression. He'd never considered her child-like, but in this moment she certainly appeared so. So much so, that he was suddenly possessed by a deep-seeded pang of guilt for daring to sexually defile her as he had. 

The fear in him was short lived for Christov called her attention now that he had loaded his machine. Tino was reluctant to let his dancer go, fixing Christov with a clear glare that read: 'Be gentle, or else.' The men exchanged knowing glances as Lalienna shimmied out of her skin-tight jeans and settled into the plush French chaise lounge. Every pair of eyes made quick work of devouring her bare legs and the curve of her rump, though they were prudent and looked away immediately. She was family after all. You didn't look at your little sister like that. All but Santino, who devoured the swell of her rear in its black lace as she settled and exchanged cheeky words with Chris who chuckled to himself and began to work the girl's skin with the kiss of the needle. The men went back to chattering amongst themselves, drinking, playing cards and servicing their weapons. Their eyes were dark and hungry. Something about watching Lalienna being caressed by Christov's hands set their blood to pump hotly. They all jolted when she cried out against the sting with tearing eyes. Hector had jumped to his feet and only relaxed when he was certain her yelping was exclusively related to the pain of the needle and nothing more sinister. His eyes instinctively settled over her groin, knowing that she had likely bled profusely.

When she settled, he looked away and wondered if he should get up to fetch her a towel to cover her modesty. The chaise lounge she sat on was white. He silently prayed she would not accidentally stain the furniture. His primary concern was focused on hiding her bleeding from the other males whom he felt eyed her down like ravenous dogs. He found himself wishing he hasn't drank the vodka/cocaine mixture after all. His pupils had begun to dilate and he didn't trust his reaction times to be fast enough if he had to protect her from their predatory attacks. He doubted they would... But then again, a few years ago, the crew had wordlessly consented to attending an underground orgy in the back streets of Paris where they had fucked willing girls mindless, together in the same room. In some instances, on the same bed. That had been... an experience they'd never forget. And planned to repeat when time and situation permitted. It hadn't. He wasn't sure what brought that memory back. Oh. Yes he was. Christov... He was touching her... Caressing her calf, his fingers against her ankle... His heart was pounding in his throat. Was it the coke? Probably.

Tino had also tensed at her cries but settled into a lull as he watched her, listening to her breaths as she worked through the pain. Her breasts heaved and after a while she seemed able to negotiate her suffering as Chris corrected her movements. Sharper than he would have liked. He didn't approve of Chris' tone and clicked his tongue in frustration. The younger man briskly ignored his employer and settled into his work. The ankles were indeed a painful place to ink a woman, especially one with feet as pretty as hers. Even so, he consumed the art form with a ritualistic attention to detail that bordered on erotic. Every line was a kiss. Deep. Under her skin. His thoughts darkened. She jolted, cursing hotly then settled again. He shouldn't have done it.. But he rolled himself forward on his work stool and pressed his kiss to her knee. Separated his lips... nipped the flesh and sighed before straightening and returning to work. He didn't dare meet his employer's eyes. He could feel them burning into the side of his head. Santino watched the exchange.. Watched her feet, the way her toes curled against the white fabric. His body ached at the sight. His thighs separated just a little further, his fingers stroked over the fabric of his thigh. The drug had sunk its fangs. His perception was dilated... He felt hot.. Raging hot. Without realizing his fingers worked his shirt buttons free and before long his chest was exposed to the air.

"Hector, apri le porte del balcone. Ho bisogno di un po 'd'aria." (Open the balcony doors. I need a little air.) His guard complied wordlessly. The crisp Roman breeze felt invigorating as it lessened the heat in the vast room. It was Lalienna... she was making it so hot. He was convinced of it.

This tense, erotic atmosphere lasted between the eight of them for the better part of two hours. They laughed and talked happily and joked amongst themselves. They worked their weapons, reloaded their bodies with fresh lines of coke when they felt the climax dropping off only to flow again into another riveting high. They were all very drunk, very liberated. All except Ares, Christov and Hector, who religiously controlled themselves. Just in case. Just in case.

They had reason for their concern. The boys began to flirt heavily with each other. Swapping glasses.. swapping kisses that were so far from prudent it was borderline pornographic. Primarily Tony and Curtis whom seemed to have a hard time focusing on their game of Black Jack and got intensely interested in each other's mouths. All whilst watching Lalienna being tattooed.  

However, she didn't seem to respond the way Christov wanted her to. He called her attention, noting her detachment. He had hoped to lull her into the decadent pleasure that came from the sting of pain. Nothing. She wasn't present. And he knew why.

"Hey," He whispered to her, so only she could hear as he leaned over her leg... "You with me baby girl? C'mon sweetheart. I need you present."

Nothing. She was miles away. He let it go. Returned to his art. Her skin was his canvas. Pale flesh and black ink. He wondered if she'd ever come to him again, late at night. Now that Santino was back on deck.

When at last the young woman's skin art was complete, Christov eased back and admired the work with a flush of self-satisfied acknowledgment that bordered on depraved.

"It's beautiful baby... Suits you. Gonna look damn fine when you next get your heels on." He got up and stretched his back watching her as she strolled the distance proudly to her lover.

He realized he was jealous as Santino took her in his arms again.

"Glorioso bambino."(Glorious baby.)  Tino breathed against her ear. The Italian prince had hit a wall inside himself. His caress was hot against her hips. He pulled her down atop him on the lounge and moaned hotly as her weight settled against his thighs brushing hard against his aching manhood.

"Jesus... I need to fuck you..." He purred against her throat. His hands held her tightly. But he felt it.. She was stiff... suddenly unyielding. Conflicted? What? Was he offending her?

Ares knocked on the table sharply, drawing the attention of the entire room. All eyes on her hands.

'Let her go, Tino. She's not into you right now.'

Santino tensed... smirked... laughed it off. But he couldn't shake the feeling his guard was right. His caress lessened. Christov and Hector were watching him... Sharp eyes. He took his hands off the girl entirely.

"She's fine...You're fine, aren't you baby?" He asked quietly, watching her face.

"She was fine before you touched her, man. " Said Chris with a growl. He put down his glass, flexed his shoulders.

Bad move. Very bad move.

Santino dislodged the dancer unceremoniously from his lap, landing her against the lounge where she bounced and looked bewildered. He was on his feet and in Chris' face in seconds.

"Vuoi andare adesso, figlio di puttana? Stai cercando di dirmi cosa posso e cosa non posso fare con la mia donna?" (You wanna go right now motherfucker? You trying to tell me what I can and can't do with my woman?) He spat in venom. Chris retaliated,

"Faresti meglio a pensarci due volte su quel tono, bel ragazzo, o ti farò cadere un piolo." (You better think twice about that tone pretty boy or I'm gonna bring you down a peg.)

Now the entire crew were on their feet. Weapons, cards and drinks forgotten. Ares rushed to Lalienna's side, vaulting the table in one bound and planting herself protectively in front of the dancer. Cursing to herself. She had to get Lali out of here. If the boys were gonna fight, it was gonna be bad.

Christov and Tino stood toe to toe, both of the men shouting and swearing at each other in rapid Italian. Hector grabbed at Tino's arms, forcing the younger man away and trying to be the voice of reason.

"Come on man.... let it go! He doesn't mean it!"

"Fuck you! I do fuckin' mean it!" Chris shouted back, chesting up only to be ripped away by Curtis. The men struggled to pull the prince and his attack dog apart.

"No, Papi! Please! Don't fight like this!" Yelped Lalienna in shock. Why was this happening?! What went wrong, they were all fine a minute ago.

"Let them go, babe, Ares get her out of here." Tony shouted standing firm against the two brawling men at his back.

"You're drunk man! Drunk and fuckin' high! You can't take care of her like this!" Chris bellowed.

"I'm going to fuckin' bend you over and fuck you, fica!"  (cunt!) Tino shot back, pulling free of Hector's grip.

"You wouldn't know how to fuck a man like me!"

"I wouldn't know how?" "No!"

"Jesus, would you assholes just kiss and make up already, you're scaring the girls!" Marcus shouted, shoving Chris so roughly the man stumbled off balance. And broke down... into a fit of laughter.

"I wouldn't know how to fuck you, eh?" Tino spat, his own anger dissipating as quickly as it had come. A twinkle in his eyes... He flicked his hand and would have caught Christov square across the jaw with a resounding slap, except his reflexes were slowed under the kiss of cocaine. Chris caught his wrist and smacked it away only to knock the man back into his seat and come down on top of him hard. Their lips crashed in a carnal mixture of violent, heavy kisses. Teeth and tongues. Rough, aggressive. Neither man willing to back down from the other. Christov demanding control and Santino bucking him off.

The room erupted into laughter.

"Fottuti coglioni. Onestamente!" (Fucking dickheads. Honestly!) Hector laughed, rubbing at his face and tearing Christov off his employer. The younger tattooed man complained,

"Oh come on... I was about to get fucked."

"In your dreams, faggot." Tino laughed.

"What the hell is wrong with you idiots? I mean seriously, you guys are the reason why I drink!" Marcus barked. More laughter from the room as they all settled back down to their seats. Ares too relaxed, turning to hug the frightened dancer and kiss her cheek.

'It's okay. They're okay.' She signed, throwing up a peace sign.

"It's okay girls... settle down. Relax... They're just being idiots. They do this all the time when they're tense. They probably didn't jack off this morning or something stupid..." Curtis assured the ladies, waving them back over to their seats.

"Now we remember why we don't do coke that often. Because everyone wants to fuck everyone else up. You're both morons. Have a drink and shut up already." Tony drawled as she sought to refill his friend's wine glasses with a smirk.

"It's alright bella... relax... I love him...He's a good dog. Aren't you?" Tino smiled, wrapping his arm around Chris who returned the gesture and rested his head on his bosses' shoulder.

The storm had passed. They hugged and apologized and separated back to different parts of the room. Back to their conversations, their gambling, their laughter. Ares still protected Lali in her embrace until Tino strolled over and waved her away. "Let me have a minute with her."

'No! You're high!' She signed back sharply.

"It's okay, Ares, really... Baby girl..." His attention on his dancer, "It's okay. We're all fools. Behaving badly. Just big kids when we're not working. I love them... I'd never hurt them. Forgive me?" He licked at his lip, catching her eyes with his. Mischievous twinkle as he lowered his head. The picture of submissive innocence, until he asked with a smirk.

"So... Do we wanna go be alone now?"

Tears formed in her jade eyes, lip quivering slightly. She held back a sob, taking a breath.

“You…you never wanted me?” It felt as though her heart was breaking. Literally. The strings of her cardiac muscles were snapping, leaving her in the worst pain she’s ever felt… and she’s felt a lot of shit. She’s been through the worst, through hell. But this…this was worse. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her lungs wouldn’t produce the oxygen needed to stay alive. God, make it stop. Stop it! She couldn’t handle it. She clutched her heart, squeezing the fabric of her shirt in her fists. Her eyes broke. They relayed how she felt. So so so so ruined. So torn. So…worthless. Thrown away.

————

@f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat // here is your angst. Do with it what you will. ;) have fun, my angel of sadness.

Jagged Edges

Even Gods may bleed out

Against my hands

In love

Out of hope

Out of time

Out of my mind

Stay...

Black Arts

“Have you really thought this through? I mean, really chewed it down to the bone? You dip so much as a pinky back into this pool and you’ll find that something very nasty will reach out and drag you back in.”

Be seeing you, Mr. Wick.

I need you, John.

I need you like a drug.

I need you even though you’re hurting me.

How I do refuse you when you look at me like that?

How do we stop destroying each other?

When I can’t say no.

No, to you.

The Italian Silk Mafia

We’re in this together.

Forever.

For every time we got under your skin

Pulled you out

Pulled you through

We never turned our backs on you

We’re Dogs of War

We don’t let go

Couldn’t if we wanted to

Now that we’re so deep.

Into you.

The Crown

Yes, we are Princes of Darkness.

Blue Bloods of Crime.

We wear the Camorra Crown.

And once you’re in, you’ll never get out.

Not alive anyway.

It was just as well the knocks had come.

Santino had just put down the phone from speaking with his father. And it was just as he expected. Judeth had wasted no time in contacting the Italian Crime Lord of The High Table and making the steaks clear. Lorenzo listened to the White Woman intently and finally, after considering the woman's proposition just and fair, and with his extensive knowledge of his son's unreliable history with women whom he attended to on a romantic level; was satisfied. Lalienna's three month Camorra probationary contract would be written and signed by the following business day. A copy would be forwarded to Julius, owner/manager of The Continental Rome and another dispatched to his franchise colleague Jeremy, owner/manager of The Continental London.  Together the men would acknowledge that Lalienna DeMentriento was still very much an elite independent mercenary contractor whose primary employer was still none other than Judeth Clayton. Hand Maid of The White Tower of London. Separate to Athena. Separate to the Iron Fortuna Syndicate. But still, very much owned and operated by Judeth for the next three months. Lorenzo however made it clear. In the event of catastrophic collateral damage or conflict of interest against the Spanish or the French, Lalienna's execution would be uncontestable. Her body returned to Judeth as a casualty of war. The Camorra would not accept the responsibility for failure but would be the cause of her termination.  Judeth's faith in Lalienna's abilities ran deeply.

She had fostered the girl with the other Tower initiates for five years in total and trained with her for two. Any act of insubordination or insincerity had been very much crushed out of her. Duty, honour, allegiance and servitude had been at the forefront of her education since the day of her arrival. The girls had been made to watch their first human execution at the age of fourteen. Athena herself had taken the head of a wayward infiltrator and presented it in horror to the gasping, feinting young women. Holding it aloft as a spoil of war and speaking out clear and loud:  That she had no need for prisoners. And would not tolerate deviation. She was Death. And Death would come with vengeance. That real power came from the action of those that took the blade in their own hands to complete the execution. Only cowards and bastards would allow the death of a human being to be subsidized by another.  Were they going to grow up as cowards? Were they going to grow up as bastards though many of them were? Or would they be strong? Would they look their victim in the eye and take responsibility for claiming their immortal souls? The choice was there's entirely. Meanwhile, she was Queen. And her actions spoke louder than any words ever would.

The girls were traumatized for years later. But they understood. They comprehended the scope of their work. They understood their Queen. Loved her. Served her. Obeyed her. Because she was Death. She was Destruction. She controlled the four horsemen of the apocalypse. If she would say so, the ground would give way beneath her enemies and suck them all into the abyss.

For this reason the young women were awed. For this reason the young women realized they were not in the presence of a mere aging mortal woman. Athena had ascended from the very depths of the Underworld to reign supreme amongst men. Perhaps she was the Archangel Lucifer in flesh incarnate. And her Thirteen Hand Maids served as the succubus demons of her demonic bidding.

Lalienna knew, none was darker and more tainted of those than perhaps Judeth Clayton. The whispers from the palace were heard. She was known as Judeth The Betrayer. To the rest of the Tower, she was inhuman. A high functioning sociopath, completely and mechanically capable of smashing Athena's enemies in a tidal wave of her wrath and fury. They never saw her coming. She was a shadow in the darkness. A ghost of the imagination. Never directly involved in open combat, death or murder. A manipulator, ravager, saboteur.... They called her 'The Woman'. Her marks never learned her name. Her face was forgotten. She was a master of blending into the crowd. Being anonymous. Because that is how Athena trained them. They needed no narcissism, no titles. They were revered exclusively by their order in The Tower alone.  London knew the tattoos. The coat of arms was a gang symbol that was feared.

They were not as flashy and proud as the Camorra of Italy or the Imperial Dragons of Japan or the Ruska Roma of Russia. No. They were Iron Fortuna. They were English. And the English had a job to do. And they didn't fuck around.

She had proved it to him when he spoke to his father and his father told him, this was going to be the arrangement whether he liked it or not. Because the White Woman of Iron Fortuna were an asset. An ally power. Their sheer numbers and force of prominence in the Underworld bolstered the Italian pride of the Camorra. And he would not let a little shit (he referred to his son in this instance) fuck it up by deciding that Lalienna was incompatible with his sexual preferences. She was power piece. A knight on the chessboard that had come dressed in white. They would foster her, and care for her, and train her as one of their own. And if Santino set so much as a hair out of line with her, she would immediately be taken as a maid of honour by Gianna. And again, Lorenzo reminded his son that he had no say in that. Not after the rape and murder scandal of Marissa Conti. In fact, Lorenzo seconded Judeth's opinion. She had every right to call him a peasant in prince's clothing. Because his attitudes were still extremely immature and his failures outstripped his good deeds ten to one. They were bad odds. And Lorenzo wasn't interested in booking against bad odds.

"Se non vuoi essere trattato come un contadino, non comportarti come tale." (If you don't want to be treated as a peasant then don't act like one.)

These were Lorenzo's final words as he disconnected the call.

Santino D'Antonio was bested. Fucked off. Furious and feeling the pang of impotent rage flood through him. To want to struggle against these family bonds and be shackled by their gold chains harder than he ever had before.

'Fanculo la mia vita!' (Fuck my life!) He thought to himself as he swung open his office door. Hector stood proud, grinning from ear to ear. Eyes twinkling. Cigarette hanging from his lips and laptop in hand.

"Can I show you something, Signore?"

"Certo." (Of course.) Santino replied. Stepping aside and allowing his Guard Commander to enter his office. The door was shut behind them.

The laptop was set on the glass coffee table next to Santino's half-consumed cappuccino. The guard settled into the sofa and gestured for his boss to take residence beside him.

It was done.

"Look at this dog, Tino... Tell me what you think?!" Santino put on his reading glasses and assessed the screen. Indeed, it was a beautifully proportioned Rottweiler puppy. By his cursory glance of the photograph on screen, he made the informed decision that the animal was likely purebred, expensive and ridiculously cute. He'd make a good guard dog to someone very special.

"I think you're showing me a photo of a dog that will become the love of someone's life."

"Lalienna's life." Hector pronounced. He didn't even think about it, he just blurted the words out.

"Scusami?" (Excuse me?)  Santino returned, a raise of his brow as he pulled off his glasses. That was the second time that day he had to repeat himself. He was starting to lose his patience with people telling him what do to in his own house. Hector took his employer's tone to heart and backpedaled immediately with a contextual back-story.

"Boss, listen... Lalienna. She's not well, you know? She hasn't been well for a very long time. When we found her, she was messed up, kicked out of her syndicate. She got caught up with you-"

"Think carefully about what you're saying, Hector."

"Let me finish, Tino, fuck... No disrespect boss, but come on. See it from the girl's viewpoint. She's into you less than a month, she has a passing indiscretion with some girl, you ignore her ass, drive her insane and cut her up... Jesus man, she's barely twenty-one. An assassin? Really? That's no life for some pretty girl like that."

He wanted to say more. To mention the pregnancy. The abortion she was going through right now. He'd assumed she wasn't well by the sickly look on her face when they touched down in Rome. He wasn't surprised to learn that Santino had not had his way with her. Nor was he surprised when the girls did not present themselves at table to eat. None of the guards were. Lalienna's secret would stay with him to his final breath. He would not betray her confidence. He was serious in his proposal. That if Santino would not accept her children, he would. He would step in on the role of father and husband. He'd beg Santino's pardon, perform whatever task was desired of him, but he too would find a way to escape the table if it meant he would rear Lalienna's bastard children. He was ostracized in his youth for coming from a broken home with another father. He would not let a child in his knowledge, on his watch suffer the same fate. His honour depended on it.  But not at this hour it seemed. Lalienna had stepped up to the plate that most women would dread to witness. She had gone through with the abortion. And it was imperative he save her sanity. He didn't care about the cost.

He had watched her deteriorate under Airoldi's manipulation. She did not falterer on the field, she came back strong and unblemished. But she was dying on the inside. Dying because Santino would not love her. And he couldn't stand by and let that go uncontested.

"So you're telling me you want to give her a dog?" Tino asked after a moment's pause.

'Thank God!' Hector thought to himself.  That could have gone much worse. Tino's temper when corrected was explosive. Like a hand grenade with the pin pulled loose. It only took seconds for him to set off and pull down everything within his reach. But this was dangerous too. The calm before the storm. For he knew that Santino was also keeping himself pure. He's commitment to Lalienna had been true and honest and he'd not been whoring in Austria, though he could have done if he wanted to. His blind fury, the violence against the young dancer served as a testament to his fidelity. Santino was loyal when in a relationship if nothing else. Hector was hoping to use guilt against him if it meant the Prince of Rome would consent to the purchase of the puppy for Lalienna.

"She's a child still, boss, c'mon. She needs focus. Something to inject her love into that isn't just honour, family and duty."

"And I'm not enough?" Tino began to bristle.

"You're always enough Signore, c'mon. Don't even talk like that. You see her, the way she looks at you. Pines for you. You're her Papi. You don't know what you put her through whilst you were in Vienna. You didn't see the damage, the tears, the tantrums, the way she stopped eating after you fucked her up. You pushed her away in your fury and gave her to me. So we picked up the fucking pieces and I'm telling you there were thousands. Ares didn't sleep for days and nights drying that girls' tears. They flowed like rivers and they flowed because of you. Christov missed work, stayed back from field just to make sure she wouldn't do something stupid like slit her own wrists in shame... If that's not love, amigo, I don't know what fucking is."

That seemed to have the effect he wanted. Santino leaned forward on the sofa, raking his fingers through his hair and resting his elbows on his knees before returning his watery eyes to the screen. He took no pleasure from his employer's private suffering. He didn't mean to sink that blade so deep. But it was absolutely necessary. He twisted it because he was sadistic. And sadism was a card that he knew Santino responded too extremely well. The Prince of Rome had a gentle heart. And it bled when you used the right words. It bled even worse when you used the word 'love'.

"It's a nice looking dog..." Santino consented at last. "Big paws though... big head. He'll be huge. It's a pity they cut off its tail. They shouldn't mutilate the animals like that."

"They do it because it makes them look tougher. A lot of these dogs earn a lot of money in show and in dogfighting pits." Hector replied, heartened that this was going somewhere positive. He pulled a cigarette case out of his coat pocket and lit up, offering the smoke to Santino who, without ceremony, took it directly out of his lips, placed it against his own and dragged down deep.

The intimacy of the action stirred something in Hector he couldn't explain. Santino had a ferocious allure to him. And it worked just as well on men as it did on women. He pulled a second cigarette from his case and lit up again, taking this one for himself.

"It's not like we don't have room. Dogs are good for people. Lower the blood pressure. Keep you focused. Teach you loyalty, responsibility, humility. They stop being animals and start becoming family. Lalienna has no family man. Dead mother, dad that don't want her. She's displaced. Got nothing, got us, sure. But I think she needs something that's purely her own. Someone to care for that understands the world without the bullshit of business we're in."

The two men smoked in silence. The weight of Hector's words sinking deep between them. And Hector couldn't help but think to himself,

'I wonder how long he can go without a fuck?' That was... unexpected. Out of no-where. It's just that the moment Tino had touched back down in London from Austria and finally gave his apology, the couple were afforded no time to bond together. They wouldn't let him near her. Because of the pregnancy, yes. And what's more. Because he didn't deserve to get off with such a helpless and beautiful girl.  Ares had confirmed that the couple may well have slept together last night, but sex had been entirely off the cards. That meant, by his reckoning, that Santino had not had any form of sexual release inside a woman for well over a month. Masturbation didn't count. Guys jacked off to manage mood more than because release felt good. It was a byproduct of the overall effect. Unless they were gunning for a partner, they worked better on an empty tank. Otherwise, testosterone took over and the majority of their decisions were governed exclusively by the hardness of their cocks. That's why they fought so brilliantly when they were unloaded. They were clear. They knew where they stood. But pent up... aching...It was easy to cloud judgment with unrequited desires.

Hector was a dominant sadist. A man of command because he had so many hidden blades that he used when he wanted to twist people to their knees.

Sex was one of them. And he wasn't afraid to use it.

So he did.

He closed the space between them on the sofa and slid his hand against Santino's upper thigh. Enjoying the feel of the expensive fabric that made up his gray pinstriped trousers. It wasn't anything. It was just a friendly gesture of intimate brotherhood. It wasn't romantic. It wasn't erotic. But the light changed in Santino's eyes. To the Prince of Rome... the touch was purely sensual. Hector purred.

"I think... you should surprise her. Buy her the puppy. Watch her thrive. Watch her bloom. You'll forever be basking in the light of her unfettered adoration because you presented her with a living breathing gift of a lifetime. Unique and pure as the stars. Tino... Lalienna needs this dog." He squeezed his fingers against the younger man's thigh and watched. Watched as Santino's lips opened just a fraction of a millimeter more than was prudent. His fingers tremored as he held the cigarette partway to his lips. It was inaudible, but he heard it all the same. The way Santino held back a sigh. Ravenous... hungry.

His eyes darkened in lust... he looked back to the laptop monitor. The adorable little black pup with its soulful eyes and precious floppy ears sat like a beacon of purity. He liked dogs. He liked Lalienna more. He wanted to make her happy. His home was certainly big enough. This was a good idea. A puppy... A baby... Girls like babies... they liked puppies more...

"Call the breeder. Tell them not to sell that pup. I want him. No matter what the cost. Tell him we'll be there tomorrow morning." His eyes flashed, he rose from the sofa and handed Hector his phone.

The Camorra Commander grinned the grin of the victorious. He'd won this game. He took the phone and made the call with a heart bursting with pride. The breeder screened Hector vigorously before talking business. He was not interested in releasing a pup of this quality to anyone that wasn't already experienced in raising and looking after dogs. Hector was more than ample in pacifying the man. For he had lived with and trained dogs for security firms since he was sixteen. He knew exactly what to do with a little buddle of fur. He gushed over the phone about the baby dog. His voice becoming an octave higher as was the way when he spoke adoringly to animals or children. The owner was satisfied and named a price. Two thousand Euro, no negotiations. The animal was a pure breed and the mother and father were show stud and bitch that had won multiple awards.

Tino nodded his approval. Two thousand Euro was nothing compared to Lalienna's perpetual happiness. He'd already blown well over two million Euro on her house, car, paperwork, bribes, clothes, jewels, perfume, cosmetics and shoes. That was before even paying her a salary. He didn't give a fuck about money. He'd never run out. Not in his lifetime. Not if he could help it. He hadn't attended four years at Rome's premier university to study business management, leadership, and international commerce for no reason.  Plus... his father bankrolled him pretty well. It was a sound arrangement.

 After the call, Hector and Santino began scheming. Planning. Giggling amongst themselves like schoolboys. This was incredible! They were going to present the puppy in a little carrier cage, wrapped in a bright blue satin ribbon with a massive bow. They'd sneak into her room, get one of the others to pull her away and distract her. Then they would set a tiny little puppy bed with a tray for food and water at the foot of her room. They would get leads and collars and baby blankets that were woolen and soft. Lots of chew toys because puppies teethed and it was a good habit to get them to chew toys rather than their owner's shoes and clothes.

Toilet training would be easy enough. Rottweiler's were easy to train with scented hormone drops and puppy pads. There would be accidents, but if they isolated the pup to a smaller portion of the house until he grew accustomed to walking downstairs and requesting to be let out to relieve himself in the garden, they could control the scope of the mistake. None of the crew were squeamish or disgusted when it came to something as innocent as puppy poop or wee. Gods, they had killed grown men and watched the corpse flush its bowels in the aftermath of death because that was what happened to a human being once they passed. Anything a puppy could deliver would be angelic by comparison.

They doubted very much Lalienna would revolt either. Though Santino reminded Hector that Lalienna was terribly OCD about cleanliness, neatness and order. Hector confirmed this knowledge. For once Lalienna, disorientated by her grief, had entered his rooms at the hotel in London and cleaned them for him from top to bottom. Clearly putting the maids out of work.

He thought it was charming but entirely unnecessary. He tried very hard to dissuade the girl, but she barked at him and sent him scuttling out of the rooms like a displaced crab.

The boys went on a tangent from there as Santino explained,

"I can't tell you how many times we're caught up in the heat of passion, stripping off each other's clothes in a frantic bid to get into bed... when she stops part way and folds her clothes... and mine.. neatly..."

Hector cackled, doubled over in laughter, tears in his eyes as he held his stomach.

"And here I am with this massive fucking hard on.... handing her the coat hangers...." Tino continued.

"Oh!!! Oh fuck, boss! That's too funny... ow ow ow.... Oh...my sides... You're killing me!"

"I'm killing you?!" Santino shouted, gesturing wildly with his hands. "Have you ever tried to fold some pants with an erection so large it could invade Greece?"

Then men were in tears, fits of laughter that shook their chests and burned their sides. God it felt good to just laugh and laugh and laugh. The commotion drew attention for Ares and Tony appeared at the office door with a quick knock before letting themselves in.

"Hey there!" Tony began brightly, looking dashing in his half-buttoned dress shirt that showed off his bare, muscled and bronzed chest. "What's the commotion about?"

'We could hear you laughing from upstairs. What's so funny?'

"Tino's dick." Hector choked out... falling back against the sofa.

'What? He pulled it out and showed you? Don't tell me he's got one of those micropenis things...' Ares signed, extremely amused by the comment.

Crude, in his laughter, Santino made the classic Italian grab for his groin rubbing it over his pants. The gesture was both an insult and sexual innuendo that made Ares flip her boss off. Tony chuckled and put his arm around the young woman.

"Not even close babe. I've had the pleasure of pissing next to him in the men's room and I can assure you, he's studding easy six thick Italian inches. Flaccid."

Ares eyes widened in disbelief. She had suspected that Santino was well endowed because that was the genetic standard for most European males of the region. Then again, as she was quite small in her frame, anything over five inches on a man intimidated her a little more than she felt comfortable admitting. Mostly to herself. Hence her preference of making love to women. They were a little gentler in the bedroom. And it didn't hurt so much with a well-lubed strap on... or those sensuous lips... She was suddenly blushing and embarrassed. As though she had walked in on something that was very personal. She'd.... keep that information in her mind stored for later. Lalienna was a brave girl if she could take being pounded by all of that.

"Guys! Listen up!" Santino began. "Come tomorrow morning, we're getting Lalienna a puppy dog of her own. The D'Antonio Estate will welcome a furry companion amongst its ranks. "

"Oh my goodness! Really?! A puppy?!" Tony gushed, striding forward to see the pictures Hector showed him on the laptop. Ares was immediately distracted from her dirty thoughts and began to jump up and down excitedly.

'Oh my god! I'm going to tell her right now!' She gestured happily.

"No! Ares, no! It's a secret. A surprise. Don't tell her anything. Just take her into town tomorrow. Show her the sights. Take her for lunch at the Hard Rock Cafe, keep her busy and distracted. Keep her as sober and straight as possible and bring her back to the house before sunset. Don't let on that you know anything about it. Don't say a fuckin' word or we'll kill you and feed you to the birds, feelin' me?" Hector demanded.

"Can we let the others in on the surprise though?" Tony asked, his eyes twinkling in mirth. Completely swept away in the excitement.

"Of course, but make sure they don't let anything slip either. Ensure Panchelli and the maids know too. The whole house can know what's going on except Lalienna. " Santino sang happily. The crew hugged and kissed each other in joy then took a moment to compose themselves before leaving Santino's office and forcing the spring out of their step. They wouldn't let the secret slip. They each separated to different parts of the mansion and passed on the news in the style of Chinese whispers.

Panchelli was overjoyed by the idea for he too was raised with greyhound racing pups as a young boy and considered the affections of a dog to be remarkably good for a young lady's health.

Likewise, he convened the maids in the servant's common room and filled them in. That a new puppy would take residence in the D'Antonio Estate. The girls were beside themselves. They squeaked and bounced about and clapped excitedly in joy. Oh, they were so happy with this news! They swore on their hearts, mothers, and lives they would keep the knowledge absolutely secret and vowed to kill each other if they found the promise would be broken. But they were all fine, friendly girls that were nothing if not discreet and dutiful.  Keeping a secret was a maid's number one professional calling. Panchelli rested assured. All would be well. Extremely well.

|||

Later that evening, after dinner had been consumed and the crew had moved to the drawing-room to smoke, play music, gamble and drink coffee; Ares had sought to bring her best friend downstairs to join them.

Poor Lalienna, still somewhat stoned off too many of Mama Frita's pills and still refusing to eat anything despite Ares very persuasive coaxing, complained that she didn't feel up to being surrounded by so many men that weren't her Papi. She was in turmoil and had cried many more times that evening after Christov had delivered her gently back to her rooms. Ares took over to cheer the girl with kisses and caresses that were mostly unwelcomed. Ares was at a loss to satisfy the girl. She held her lovingly instead, stopped being playful and cheeky and made sure she wasn't bleeding through her clothes. She wasn't, thankfully. Lalienna had asked for a tampon to staunch the flow of her bleeding but Ares corrected her angrily and thrust a pad between her friend's legs instead.

'You shouldn't have anything in your body right now blocking the flow. You want to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible so you can move on with your life, babe. Really. Just trust me... Use a pad. Alright?' She wrote into her phone, making sure the dancer read it, then kissed Lalienna's forehead. Together the two ladies shared a moment of intimacy that was reserved exclusively for women.  Inside, Ares' heart was singing. Because she knew the secret joy that they were going to bestow on her friend would be only hours away. And she prayed that Lali would respond well to holding a baby dog in her arms.

Christov came to their rooms then, knocking quietly on the door and begging entrance. Two knocks. Which was code for: 'It's not urgent, but can I come in?'

Ares returned the two knocks on her coffee table. Code for: 'The room's clear, you can enter'

The imposing and devilishly handsome tattooed man, dressed in tight torn black jeans, Gucci loafers and an equally tight 'v' neck t-shirt that was cut low and revealed the octopus at his throat and chest, swaggered into the room with a whiskey glass in hand and a playboy smile. Ares loved him when he dressed casually. He wore a black and white paisley printed bandanna and looked every bit the rock star bad boy of every girl's masturbatory wet dreams.

"So ladies..." He began by way of introduction. "The boys and I are downstairs, chillin', hangin' out. And we were wondering... if you girls would like to come downstairs and blow off a little steam with us? No pressure, if you ain't up for it. But... It's been a rough week. So... now that we're home.. and done with dinner... we thought maybe a little music... a little booze... Marcus is racking up a couple of prime lines from Colombia..." He raised his brow, flashing his most devilishly disarming smile. And god it was good. He was a rock god... Those tattoos made him dirty delicious. He was beaming. He knew a secret and caught the look in Lali's eyes. So he strutted forward into the room. Ran his fingers under Ares' chin, making the girl look up and purr darkly. She reached beside her and squeezed Lali's hand for comfort and support.

Chris drew his attention to the dancer and squatted down low before her.

"Babe... I've got some new ink from the U.S downstairs... and my machine... Umm... " He licked his lower lip suggestively stripping her of her clothes with his eyes. Yes, she'd lost a child but still, she was human, female, alive... pulsing with beauty. And he'd comforted her in the past month or more. It was further and deeper than they cared to admit. But their reasoning was sound. Santino didn't have to know. Chris was the keeper of two precious secrets. He slipped his hands over the dancer's knees and squeezed gently, massaging her flesh.

"I think you should come down... It's about time you feel the kiss of an Italian needle." His smile darkened. He was predatory. Tattooing his family was... erotic. Ritualistic. He was lusting. Hard. He wanted the dancer's skin under his hands. He wanted to mark her forever. But not like Santino did, not with at blade against her throat. That was barbaric and monstrous. He was an attack dog... not a savage.

"C'mon girls... Come downstairs. We want you to party with us. Lali... babygirl... Papi's waiting for you. Don't worry, he's in a good mood. We might have gotten him a little high already." He smirked, winking that bad boy wink of his. He rose then and swaggered back toward the door.

"C'mon baby... Daddy wants to make you feel good."

Tears formed in her jade eyes, lip quivering slightly. She held back a sob, taking a breath.

“You…you never wanted me?” It felt as though her heart was breaking. Literally. The strings of her cardiac muscles were snapping, leaving her in the worst pain she’s ever felt… and she’s felt a lot of shit. She’s been through the worst, through hell. But this…this was worse. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her lungs wouldn’t produce the oxygen needed to stay alive. God, make it stop. Stop it! She couldn’t handle it. She clutched her heart, squeezing the fabric of her shirt in her fists. Her eyes broke. They relayed how she felt. So so so so ruined. So torn. So…worthless. Thrown away.

————

@f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat // here is your angst. Do with it what you will. ;) have fun, my angel of sadness.

The things we do for love....

Oh, she was such a pretty girl! Darling Devina. That is what all the initiates called her. And when she announced that her willing suitor would propose to take her hand in marriage, the entire Tower was in an uproar of joy. The Queen was in good spirits. The engagement party alone would be extremely grand, held in the main hall. Because that was where all the engagement parties for the ladies were held. And on that night they would be permitted to sit at the right hand of the Queen. A place of high honour. Because a bride to be was still a bride and she earned her place at Athena’s side. She was showered with blessings, a dowery valued in the absolute hundreds of thousands. Dresses, jewels, cars, shoes and cosmetics. The ladies were wanting of nothing under Athena’s care. Cruel and cold as the old Queen was, she was not entirely heartless. She still mourned the passing of her own husband. Tuberculosis of the lungs took him. A dreadful disease. He suffered for years at her side until at last, he begged Athena’s final mercy. It was said she poisoned him in his sleep and lay with his cool body for a whole day and night before she would relent to have him interred. 

But Devina Dentent. Well, she was a special flower. Master Karth’s pride and joy. She had been Lalienna’s best friend. Karth knew this. And he was always sympathetic to her when she choked on her tears in the training yards and fought with the maids. Because she didn’t want Lalienna’s old bed touched, or remade, or moved. She missed her friend. Her sister in arms... Her one-time fleeting girlish lover. Now she was a married woman. She’d tasted her first man and she wasn’t disappointed. Perhaps, a little overwhelmed. Perhaps, a little underwhelmed. She wasn’t sure what to expect. But he was kind-hearted and gentle for a husband and he respected that Devina was a White Woman of the Tower of London. She had not been selected as an Elite Associate under the hands of the Thirteen Hand Maids to the Queen.  And she did request an audience with the Lady Judeth Clayton to ask if perhaps she might be worthy of a traineeship under her sponsor. Master Karth, however, declined the request before Judeth could speak. She was on twenty-four-hour continuous surveillance it seemed. And he would not let Lady Clayton out of his sight for as long as he could help it whilst in the palace. And whilst he worked, the Hand Maid was escorted by Black Guard in pairs. Always in pairs. They watched the White Woman eat, sleep, relieve herself and bathe. And if she attempted to request permission of the guards to let her approach and speak with Judeth directly, they immediately sent her away. 

“But I don’t understand!? Why won’t you at least let me talk to her? There is no harm in this, surely? I am no danger to you my faithful Black Guard. Please... Sir... Madam... Let me speak with Lady Judeth, you may stay on and listen to every word I say.”

“We’re sorry Miss. Devina. We have our orders. Mistress Clayton is under palace lockdown. She has no conversations with any of the initiates or lower White Women until Master Karth himself proclaims it agreeable.”

“But, this is ridiculous! I just want to be given the chance to speak with her. I want to train beneath her like Lalienna once did. How can I ask her formally if you won’t let me? Am I to petition the Queen directly for the honour?”

“No, Miss. Devina. You will petition no one. You will either return to your studies, attend your training or quit the Tower to attend your husband directly. But we will not permit you to address Lady Clayton. These are Master Karth’s orders. They are final. We speak for the Queen. You will desist your demands at once.”

“But... this watch you have her under... how long for?” Devina demanded, exasperated and getting nowhere fast.

“As long as it takes.” The Black Guard replied.

“Well then at least, I beg you tell me why it is you are so diligent in your duties of her. Is she ill? Has she committed a great offence that you will not trust her with a moment’s privacy alone?”

“Death Watch.” They answered. They saluted. They marched away, Taking Judeth Clayton with them.

Later that night, at dinner, Devina sought to attend the teacher’s quarters in hopes of petitioning Master Karth for more answers. He was surrounded by his friends and colleagues, discussing protocols, politics, combat sequences and modern warfare as was his custom with the rest of the respected educators that made up their academic staff.

“Master Karth! Master Karth, I beg you, a moment of your time if you please.”

“Always a moment if not many more for my precious initiates. Come Devina, you look worried. What’s happened, has your new husband caused you concern? Do you need me to refresh you on self-defence against grabby males?”

“No Sir, not at all. Only, it’s about Mistress Clayton.”

“Ah. Another topic perhaps Devina my darlin’ Mistress Clayton isn’t exactly in the best of categories across the palace right now.”

She would not relent. She blurted the question.

“What does it mean, that the Black Guard said Judeth Clayton of the Thirteen Hand Maids is on Death Watch, Master Karth! Answer me honestly now, I cannot sleep at night since Lalienna was banished, you will do this for me and let me rest.”

Karth grew pensive. The looks of his colleagues were piteous. Judeth was always the cause of great scandal in the palace.

“Death Watch means... “ He started reluctantly. “That... Mistress Clayton has gotten so ill of the heart and mind since our Lalienna was removed... that she’s now a danger to herself. And if we don’t monitor her 24 hours of the day and night... she may do herself irreversible harm.”

“Suicide?! Mistress Clayton?! Unthinkable! No! No! Please, anything but that. She is so gentle and kind spoken with us girls. She’s warmer than any of the other Hand Maids. You must help her Master Karth, you must have Doctor Tanis put her in his hospital wards. You cannot leave her to keep working under Her Majesty whilst she is so disturbed. Oh Master Karth, it is cruel! Cruel!

“I know it is, my darling. But Her Grace, Athena will not have her Hand Maids be idle whilst the French are plotting against us from Paris. You know this love, you know this. So please, I assure you Lady Clayton needs to keep busy and her work is the balm that soothes her restless mind. She is under continuous guard and will remain so until I see fit to release her from it. Now go on Devina, return to your friends downstairs. Give your husband my fondest regards and take extreme care of yourself. For me. In a fortnight you have an important mission to attend with the Lady Rosa and her Elite Associate, Franchesca. We need you in your best form. You understand. Now rest easy darlin’ girl. No more questions about our Judeth. She’ll be right, I promise you.”

‘If I can keep her off the morphine.’ He thought to himself. He disliked lying to the girls. It left a bad taste in his mouth. But he did what needed to be done to protect them. Most of them had suffered greatly even though they were so young. Fatherless bastards. Almost all of them. Give or take. Everything from begger girls off the streets, whores and reformed drug addicts to Duchesses and genuine royalty from across the globe. They were all sourced and poached and brought before Athena. And trained. As young as they could be gotten. They’d been weaponized and trained. To be killers. To be ruthless. To be espionage agents, saboteurs, ravagers. To be breeding machines. To birth girls...girls...girls.... More and more, in an endless cycle to swell the numbers. Because Athena was a Goddess. She demanded the sacrifice. Blood and Flesh for The High Table.

And they were servants. Always her loyal servants on bended knee. Fearful to look the old Queen in the eye.

So when at last she escaped the militant watch of The White Tower. She attended The Continental and escaped her husband's adoring embrace. She sought out the famous Iris Twins. Because aside from Sir Sable, it was said these identical French blonde ladies held the keys to the city. The keys to all of London. And they did not refuse her. They protected her passage with the sleight of hand technique of seasoned and impossibly well-trained magicians. They let her gain access to private rooms, unused by other guests. Hush, now, hush. Don't say a word. Our little secret. There she met her Lalienna again. And adored her anew. Kissed her, hugged her. She looked well. Loved, cared for. Her dresses were extremely expensive, her shoes... my goodness she had so many to choose from. Many were open-toed. She had been told that her Italian suitor, Mr Santino D'Antonio was a very particular and fussy man that had some exceptional sexual proclivities that involved the adoration of her feet. She did not deny him his pleasures for she enjoyed to see the Prince of Rome attend her on his knees to personally buckle the dainty strap of leather at her ankle.

That all sounded exceptionally erotic, she thought. And their old loves flared again. The excitement of young girls, barely 21 years of age. Living such exciting lives of intrigue and destruction. They made love the way the used to. Kissing and caressing and forcing each other to decadent orgasm just as they had in the bathhouse and sleeping quarters of the girls in the Tower. It was sinful and delicious. And entirely naughty and very troublesome if their males would find out. But Devina didn't care that deeply for her new husband just yet. Yes, he was handsome and rich and treated her kindly. But they were new together. And Devina hadn't quite learned what it meant to love a man intimately yet. Even if she had already accepted him inside her body. That was neither here nor there. She kissed Lalienna passionately and escaped their private rooms. The Iris Twins were fast and efficient. They had her returned to her husband's hands without him ever having missed her, to begin with.

They were clever twin ladies. But they did what their Master told them to do. Sir Sable was a man of dizzying power with sensual eyes and calculating glances.

Perhaps that was the way of the world, after all.

All good women were made in the shadows of powerful men.

Were they really though?

Five days now he'd been home at the Continental London and for those five days Hector and Christov did nothing but protect his dancer like wolves. Refusing him access to her. In any way, shape or form. He begged them, pleaded they let him attend her. He had so much he needed to say. His two months of diligent hard work had finally paid off. The papers accepted, her duel European Visa acquired alongside international residency and secure passage to at least four different safe houses that were level territory with the Camorra. Her alliances secured with nothing more than a photograph. The banks had approved his land purchase as well. He'd acquired her a modest villa by the waterfront  not entirely too far from Schönbrunn Palace in the capital. A Porsche Panamera in stunning hot rod red parked in her private driveway. He took photos lovingly on his phone and set the new house and car keys into a velvet lined black box with a card that read: 'So you may live in love and peace. Santino' He wanted to give it to her desperately but they just wouldn't leave him alone with her for a minute. Ares, Curtis and Marcus were always at her side when Chris and Hector weren't.

They guarded her in shifts, snapping and barking at him like dogs if he so much as looked at her in a way that they often misinterpreted as predatory. He'd snapped at them under the pressure. Retaliating wildly when they would not approve access to her rooms. He was causing a scene, they told him. Being disgraceful. Disrespectful. He argued with the crew bitterly.

"She's my fucking lover!" He screamed at Hector in bitter rage, threatening him. "Have you forgotten who signs your pay checks, bastardo?!" (bastard?!)  Well, that didn't go down well in the slightest. Furious, Hector punched him square in the mouth. The blow so well timed and powerful he'd not even seen it coming. He remembered then why he had chosen Hector as his second in command. But that didn't stop him pulling his pistol free and levelling it at his Guard's head. Hector, in a wild fury, took hold the muzzle of the gun and shoved it directly into his forehead, holding it steady and cursing in Italian. Demanding Santino make good on his threat ad pull the trigger. Daring him to do so. To see what would really happen. Did he have the balls? Here? Now?

"Go on, you fucking cunt! You lack the courage of your conviction! Dickless cur! Pull the trigger, pull it! Pull the fucking trigger Santino, blow my brains out if you think you have it in you! I'll die where I stand but you... I'll see you rot in Hell!"

Santino's finger squeezed the trigger... another millimetre and he'd end this man's suffering forever. Until Sable appeared flanked by hotel security in the hallway and demanding the two men desist their argument immediately and drop their weapons at once.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PAIR!?!" Sable exploded. Rare. Extremely rare. Sable was always so refined, so in control of his emotions. Seeing him loose his cool like this was haunting.

"A dozen noise and disturbance complaints from this floor, I come to investigate and this is what I find?! The Prince of Rome and his Commander at gun point in the halls of my house?! Are you insane?!"

"This doesn't concern you. Return to your desk." Santino had replied in a fury. Completely forgetting himself or where he was. Now it was Sable that attacked, knocking the pistol clear out of his hand with a deadly precision of movement. He disarmed the Italian prince and threw the weapon at his security guard who caught it mid-air and unloaded the magazine in an instant. Impossible the way they moved. Trained almost from birth it seemed. There were dangerous men in England. Dangerous men in London. But Sable... he reminded Santino and Hector both of who was God in this hotel. And it was certainly him. Sir Jeremy would hear of this disruption of harmony to his house. And he would come down on them both like the hand of God. In vengeance. But that was secondary to what was to come first. They were not polite about it either.

 Both Hector and Santino were arrested and separated by Sable's security detail, stripped of weapons entirely and marched in different directions. Downstairs they were taken. Almost the same route down to the subterranean car parks. Basement level. The boiler rooms. A huge stone chamber that was bare of anything save concrete and iron and the machinery that kept the hotel air conditioning and water systems functional. They seemed to stretch on forever. Twice Santino asked where they were taking him, straining against the cold metal of his handcuffs. And twice they met him with silence. Terror began to sink its fetid claws into the panicked beating of his reckless heart. Would he run? Would it make it worse if he did?

They threw him face first into a rough hewn holding cell with no light, dank air and imposing terror. The shadows played tricks with his eyes. There, in the corners of the cell were shadows that moved. Too many arms... to many eyes... Monsters..

Terrified, the Italian threw himself at the cell bars, screaming and pleading Sable let him free. But no one came to his cries. They left him there, alone, in the dark, handcuffed with the moving shadows of creatures unknown and his own thoughts to torment him into believing he was seeing demons and hearing voices that were otherworldly manifestations of death and torment.

 No light... no sound... Just fear.... fear.... and Lalienna.... Oh his dancer! His Spaniard. His Mistress. He screamed her name into the shadows and they dispersed to reveal.... Sable.

What?! Impossible!!! He'd gone with the other security staff to lock away Hector... how was he here with him this in cell? Wait?! In the cell? Then how would they get out?!

What?! Nothing made sense.

"Signore Sable... please.... please.. I'm going mad... I can't be here anymore, my dancer.. My Lalienna...have mercy on me, let me go to her. I will do anything you say, anything. Just let me out of this fucking cage... LET ME OUT!!!"

"I warned you...Prince of Rome. That the cost of your sins would see to your ruin." Whispered Sable. Black suit. Gloved hands. Those eyes... like the pits of Hell themselves reflecting the screams of a hundred thousand fallen souls at once. And he would be another victim to join them shortly.

Santino pleaded, "Signore Sable, please, have mercy on me. Yes, I did wrong, I pulled a gun in your house, I was mad in my rage but you have to believe me, I wouldn't have killed him.. My Commander! My Guard! Hector... Where have you taken him?! Tell me! Do with me what you will but release Hector, he is innocent of any crime, it was me! I admit it! I did it all... I cut her... I held her down, I lost control. I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He fell to his knees and with it came his grief stricken tears like rain. He'd snapped completely. Babbling, cursing, wretched in his panic. He vomited under the sheer force of the terror that took him.  He thought he would die in this cell. Without ever seeing her again. His men... Ares... Hector, Christov, Curtis, Tony, Marcus... Lalienna...

Those voices... in his head. Lorzeno shunning him, his sister Gianna, turning away. Marissa... That look in her eyes. Haunted. The light gone forever... Like Judeth... Because he'd raped her. He'd taken her against her will.... he'd abused and raped her and killed their child. Blood on his hands. Her blood. She left him... But he'd forever torn out the semblance of her soul.

"Are you ready to repent, Mr. D'Antonio?" Asked Sable calmly, dulcet baritone. Black suit, black gloves, standing outside the bars of the cell door.

Outside? Santino turned in tear-soaked panic. Then if Sable was outside, where was the man he was talking to in the cell?

Nothing there... Shadows and darkness and nothing more.

"How'd you do it?!" Santino asked, throwing himself at the bars.

"Do what exactly, Mr. D'Antonio?"

"Don't play fucking games with me Sable... you were standing in this cell with me a moment ago. Right there! How did you get out without me seeing you?"

Sable was silent, his features changed. Pity infused his hard blue eyes as he looked the half mad Italian man over.

"Mr. D'Antonio.... You watched me leave your side to incarcerate your guard. It's not possible for me to be in two places at once. Although it would certainly improve my efficiently for running this hotel."

Santino's eyes grew wide. Horror filling him. He spun on his heel, his eyes searching the darkness. Sable was right... he was alone. There was no one there... Had he imagined it? But it was real! The concierge had been standing in that cell with him as surely as he lived and breathed this very moment.

"Mr D'Antonio... listen to me. Your guard was good enough to explain your position. You've had a very difficult few months it seems. You're over worked, injured, exhausted and defeated by demons latched to you by the betrayal of a lover. If you want to survive this, I suggest you admit defeat first and make good your apologies. Now, I'm going to let you out of that cage. And you're going to come with me back upstairs. You will join me at the reception desk and you will sign a formal warning notice for wilful intent to execute business on hotel grounds with a loaded weapon. As no harm was done, and your guard has confessed of your troubles, I will be lenient with you and revoke my original intention which was to report your behaviour to management and have our services suspended until further notice. You should be grateful of my mercy, sir. It is not every day one is given the opportunity to teach humility to the Prince of Rome. Alas, I have. And would do so again with extreme prejudice if that is what it takes to disarm you."  

He was freed from his prison soon thereafter. Leaving the shadows of the underground behind. He ascended again to the light and did exactly as he was told. Without question. With extreme hesitation. Sable cleared his throat. A warning. Still he would not sign the paper. He couldn't read the words. He became overwhelmed that this document was in fact his death warrant.

"Sign it, Mr.D'Antonio."  Those eyes... like the pits of hell.

"I want Lalienna..." He pleaded. His voice breaking. The tears would not come though his eyes burned.

"And you will have her again, of that I have no doubt. Now, sign the Warning Letter so we may put this wretched episode behind us quickly, sir. I have business to attend and cannot stand here entertaining your insecurities all day. Do I make myself clear?"

He gave in. He signed.

"Papi?" That voice! He turned and there she was. Flanked by Hector and Chistov, Marcus, Tony and Curtis. Ares too, hugging he girl. His girl. His dancer. His Spanish flower.

He looked to the men, wordless. The tears falling at last. Begging though he didn't say a word that they let him touch her, go to her... fall at his knees for her. Hector nodded.

And that was all he needed. He rushed her, taking her in his arms and breaking down.  He cried with her. Incomprehensible in his anguish. A million terrors and fears flooding through him that he struggled to convey. Two months of torture, separation, madness. Destroyed... By the severance between them.

And she chased it all away with a kiss. And that kiss. It seemed to last forever. An eternity. It stretched on and on and on. Lightening him. Calming him, soothing him. Her skin, her scent, her touch, her taste. His lungs burning, he wouldn't come for air, he'd let her drown him. He wanted to die... Here. Now. It didn't matter how so long as she held him in her arms.

 "I love you, Papi... I've missed you. I was sacred you'd still be angry with me. That you wouldn't come back."

"Non ti lascerò mai più amore mio." (I'll never leave you again my love." He insisted. Holding her to him for dear life.

It was over. The torment. The torture. His anger. His rage. His madness. It was all over.

He turned, to find Sable... But he wasn't there.

"Did you see him?" He asked, cold with shock.

"Who Papi? What are you talking about?"

"Sable! Did you see Sable?!" He was addressing his men now. Praying that they said something that sounded like reason.

"Mr. Sable retired an hour ago, Mr. D'Antonio." He swung around again to see the owner of that voice. A pair of them. Identical twins. The Iris Twins.

"We're here though Sir. And if there's anything you need of us-"

"Paper! Warning Letter. I signed a warning letter, where is it?" He snapped in panic.

"Warning Letter, Sir?" Said Chervonne with a raise of her brow.

"Whatever are you talking about?" Chimed Chantelle, clearly concerned that something was amiss.

 "Boss..." He turned again, clutching the dancer to him. His men flanked him and he winced and retreated from Hector who looked upon him with concern in his eyes.

"You look terrible boss... I think... you should go upstairs... Both of you. Spend a little alone time together. You need each other now."

"Papi? Are you okay? You look sick. I'm worried about you."

"It's okay, amore mio. It's alright. I'm... tired that's all. Tired. Yes... But, Lalienna, I want you to go with Ares upstairs and pack your belongings. Everything we bought together. Everything you own. Tony, help her with her luggage. All of you go, empty your rooms. Pack your belongings and get ready to take the next flight back to Rome."

"Rome? What? Why? Right now?!" Asked Hector, clearly confused.

"Yes, right now. All of you. Pay your checks to the ladies and prepare your passports. We're going home."

"But Papi, it's so late. Are you sure you don't want to just sleep with me first, then we can go in the morning together?"

"No, amore mio. Right now. We're leaving right now. We can sleep on the plane. But we're going home. I'm taking you with me. All of us. I've had enough of this city , this country. I can't stand it a second longer. We're leaving. Back to my mansion. We're going to Rome."

Tears formed in her jade eyes, lip quivering slightly. She held back a sob, taking a breath.

“You…you never wanted me?” It felt as though her heart was breaking. Literally. The strings of her cardiac muscles were snapping, leaving her in the worst pain she’s ever felt… and she’s felt a lot of shit. She’s been through the worst, through hell. But this…this was worse. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her lungs wouldn’t produce the oxygen needed to stay alive. God, make it stop. Stop it! She couldn’t handle it. She clutched her heart, squeezing the fabric of her shirt in her fists. Her eyes broke. They relayed how she felt. So so so so ruined. So torn. So…worthless. Thrown away.

————

@f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat // here is your angst. Do with it what you will. ;) have fun, my angel of sadness.

Bleed like me.

Keanu Reeves’ filmography: John Wick (2014)

It hurt to leave her...

Her body in his arms. He cried tears into her hair, needing her touch. Feeling somewhat whole again because she refused to let go of him as much as he refused to let go of her. They were fated together. Bound by destinies than entwined. He couldn't resist her if he tried.

Why did he fight with her so desperately? Why did he separate himself when he needed her like the air he breathed? How long had he slept alone in his bed, his hand feeling for the warmth of her body that wasn't there. Wouldn't come.

And a thousand times he thought to himself; 'I should go see her. I should tell her I'm sorry. For hurting her. For cutting her.'

He thought it yes, but then he thought of the sin. The betrayal. That woman... Devina... He could have done it if he wanted to. Put a contract on her head. A million pounds sterling for the first man in England that executed Devina Dentent. And her fucking husband. She'd committed two fold adultery. Once against her husband. And once against his Mistress. And she was his Mistress still. He toyed with the idea of making her his fiancé. Gianna had told him to, soon after her initiation To make an honest woman of Lalienna. What if he had? What if he's proposed on his knee to her, given her the ring, begged her hand in marriage just a few weeks sooner? Would she still have betrayed him?

He didn't want to know.

He just didn't want to know.

It was best to keep things in the shallow end. Because he'd never quite learned how to swim.

And he saw the smoke when he left that morning before this mess ever came to pass. When he kissed her as he rose from their bed and sighed his love in her ear.

Something deep in him begged him to turn around. Leave the airport. Go back and get her. He was rushing things with the Austrians. This could wait couldn't it? He'd not even taken her home to Rome yet. Why was he so obsessed with securing her international passage across the border lines of different countries?

Because he wanted to establish a safe haven for her. There was no Continental in Vienna. Not yet.  But he wanted her secure in a safe country. Where she could escape the world. Her own villa, her own car. She wanted a dog. He liked dogs, he wanted her to have one. He wanted to personally go to the shelter and pick a tender pup that she could raise and love. Because she was a child still. And children needed puppies. Something to look after and grow with. To learn responsibility and love and loyalty.

Loyalty.

She had it in droves... But she drank... She got bored. An old friend from the Tower. An old lover, in spite of his best intentions, for the sake of playing nice as a guest to Athena's land. He hated those women for what they'd done to her. He hated her father. He hated her mother. He hated everything and everyone around her right now, including his High Guard that protected her like savage, snapping dogs. Because that's what he'd trained them to do. That's what Gianna wanted. That's what Lorenzo demanded.

He hated leaving her.

He promised as Christov picked up his fallen coat and bags, that he would come back. That he'd make this right. Again.

He'd fucked it up gloriously.

He always managed to fuck it up and there she was with her tender eyes and powerful embrace telling him it was alright. Because it was flesh for flesh. Blood for blood. He never did call that contract open on Devina.

He knew deep down he never would because a woman that she bedded obviously meant something, even if it was in one drunken fit of passion.

He couldn't understand it though. He'd never done these sorts of things. Cheating on lovers. It was against his ethics. Even in all his whoring, he didn't cheat of them if he was in a serious relationship. If it wasn't working, he broke it off clean and spent the night in another woman's bed. That's why he stayed single. Unattached. Evading his father's demands he marry and clean up his life and stop acting like a spoilt brat. And fucking woman like a whore. He was a disgrace.

 But Marissa changed him. For the better he thought. He wanted to marry her too. He actually bought Marissa the ring. He gave it to her.. in front of Gianna, in front of Lorenzo. Down on one knee he looked Marissa in the eye and begged her hand in marriage. To prove a point to himself more than anything. That he could do this. He could survive without a hundred flowers so long as he had one that would control him. And he craved that. To be controlled.

It didn't turn out the way he wanted it to.

None of this turned out the way he wanted it.

 So he bowed his head, shook Hector's hand and wiped at his tears, flustered and feeling extremely insignificant. Entirely small. He needed a drink. He needed to lay down a few hours. He needed to be with Lalienna and just hold her to him.

Why did the world make so much sense in the cold light of the day?

Why did it hurt so much when Christov pulled him away?

"Come on, Tino... You need to give the lady some space. You heard her, she's forgiven you. It's over now. You're both going to be okay. But you have a flight to catch. You worked hard last month trying to secure her papers, if you don't get her residency tied up you're going to piss all that hard work away. "

 He left the Continental under a single Guard. He couldn't face the others anymore. Ares, Hector, Marcus, Curtis, Tony. He felt as if he was the brunt of some big joke and no one was going to make any moves to let him in on it. He got this feeling, as Hector had said Lalienna wasn't permitted to drink... that something was going on outside his knowledge. They were professionals after all. Discreet. They knew things. And they knew how to keep him out of the loop.

He was quiet most of the drive up to the London Air Port.

"Thank you." He conceded at last.  

"Oh yeah? What for?" Chistov asked, not turning to face him. Keeping his eyes on the road.

"For helping me see the light. After so long. I was beginning to lose sense of myself."

"You never could see the forest from the trees, Tino. That's why you have a family like us. Many pairs of eyes decipher the puzzle one cannot see."

"Wise words, my friend." Santino returned. Settling back into his seat and lighting a smoke. Blowing the plume out the car window.

"I'm not sorry though. For what I said to you. About you being a pig sometimes. With girls. Why'd you cut her man? I mean really? What did you think you'd get out of it? Watching her cry? Watching her bleed? Fuck...man, seriously. I mean... What if she was carrying your baby? Would you have still fucked her up like that?"

 Santino leaned back into his seat. Covering his face with his hands. Dragging on his cigarette nervously as if the harder he smoked it the faster the answers would come.  

"No... I don't think so... I'm not that deranged. I-I don't know, please, Chris, stop pushing me. I can't take anymore. You and the crew have been at me like this for years."

"Marssia?"

"Yes, fucking Marissa! I'm sorry... I'm sorry. I told you I meant it, I'm sorry. I told her I was sorry. She still walked out on me, there was nothing more I could do to stop her. She didn't want the ring, she threw it in my face. God! Won't you ever let me live that chapter of my fucking life down?" Santino begged. The tears he was choking back on started to threaten again.

Christov was quiet for a moment. They were in the Air Port car park now, in the International Terminal. He was moments away from pulling up at the drop-off rank. He spoke again though, as they slowed in the traffic. Giving other cars way.

"She left you.. because you broke your own promise, Tino. You didn't use your head. You didn't apply the breaks even though you knew you should have. You can't do that to girls, amigo mio. You just can't. That wasn't safe, sane or consensual. You tied her up. You cut the pads off her fingers, off her toes. You whipped her like she was cattle in a field. You bled her, tortured her. Then you raped her. Even when she told you she was carrying your baby... She would have given her life if it meant to please you. She let you do those wicked things to her willingly. Because you got dark... you got depraved. She lost the child because of you, Tino. It wasn't the blood, it wasn't the sex, the knives, the whippings. It was you. She couldn't stand a world where someone as violent and twisted as that would actually be a father."

"There's no proof the baby was mine. That night, I caught her with another man in my bed. I was going to marry her.... I was going to marry her.... and she was fucking another guy. FUCK!!" He couldn't breathe. His vision was blurring. He felt the bile rise to the back of his throat and swallowed thickly. Ashamed of himself. He thought he'd buried these emotions and memories under concrete four years ago. Why was Christov tormenting him like this?

 "It was your baby dude... The other guy... Before we killed him. He confessed... To everything. That he was having a tryst with her, yes. But he always wore protection. He never came inside her. But you did... She miscarried the child after the beating you gave her. It was only six weeks old but it was still a baby, Tino. Your baby. Isn't that what all guys want eventually? To be fathers?"

 "No." He said at last. Getting out of the car as they pulled up to the curb. He picked up his coat and leather bags from the boot. He looked Chris over one last time. He was going to Vienna alone. He didn't need a guard with him. There was no danger. He was a danger to himself more than anything else.

"You saw that man today... Marquis... That man was her Lalienna's father. He wasn't ready to take responsibility for his daughter. He left her in the hands of a drunken addict so he wouldn't have to believe the child was real. Maybe he had his reasons for walking out on them. Even if they were degenerate and selfish. Everything in this life happens for a reason. I wasn't ready for marriage. I wasn't ready for children. I wasn't ready for Marissa Conti. Marissa Conti wasn't ready for me. But times have changed, Christov.... I've changed. I've come further than you give me credit for. I took responsibility for my actions today."

"Because we backed you into a corner, Tino. Otherwise you would have dragged this stalemate out and until she was driven insane. And would have sat back and enjoyed it. Because that's the kind of man you are today."

"You're wrong, Chris. I won't accept it. This half informed judgment you're piling upon me. Don't make a mountain out of a molehill. Lalienna betrayed me with another woman. That's the fact here. She got drunk, she knew the consequences, and rather than call me and tell me she was in the mood... she took her friend to my bed... and fucked her. And she wouldn't have told me about it either if it wasn't for the photos she'd sent me where I saw the bite marks on her neck. If I didn't come home... If I didn't punish her the way I did... She would have kept doing it, behind my back. Even if I did buy her that ring. And first it's a girl from the Tower. Then it's another old friend with history.... Then it's John fucking Wick. And where would that leave me? On the side-lines, with a wife that's an adulteress. Following her lusts like I used to. I bled Lalienna because I saw myself reflected in her eyes. I cut my initial into her throat to remind myself I was wrong. Even though I was insane with rage. And I'll remember my sin now every time I kiss her neck. That I wasn't the first one to love her. I won't be the last."

 "You really love her, eh?" Chris asked quietly.

"Yeah. I love her. But I'm not ready to be a father either. Not until I have time to work myself out." Santino admitted. Defeated, broken down.

 "Then get your shit done fast... come back. Pick her up and take her to Rome. That's where she needs to be now. Away from these distractions. Away from temptations and indiscretions. She did what she did because she's afraid of losing you. Your her Papi now. So act like it. If you can't be a father, at least be a man." Chrisov admonished.

 "I'm trying." Was all he said. He turned away. With his coat and his bags. He entered the international terminal and waited in the lounge until the next flight could take him back to Vienna. Where he had every intention of buying Lalienna a house... and a car. Where she had a new alliance with people that would protect her if she ever decided to walk out on him. Because he wouldn't...couldn't repeat the trauma of Marissa Conti.

He understood then, what Marquis had said... to his own daughter 21 years later.

That he wasn't ready to be a father.

Tears formed in her jade eyes, lip quivering slightly. She held back a sob, taking a breath.

“You…you never wanted me?” It felt as though her heart was breaking. Literally. The strings of her cardiac muscles were snapping, leaving her in the worst pain she’s ever felt… and she’s felt a lot of shit. She’s been through the worst, through hell. But this…this was worse. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her lungs wouldn’t produce the oxygen needed to stay alive. God, make it stop. Stop it! She couldn’t handle it. She clutched her heart, squeezing the fabric of her shirt in her fists. Her eyes broke. They relayed how she felt. So so so so ruined. So torn. So…worthless. Thrown away.

————

@f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat // here is your angst. Do with it what you will. ;) have fun, my angel of sadness.

Judgement XX

The Adjudicator

“Actiones Secundum Fidei”

‘According Faith Actions’

 --------------------------------{}>---{}>

She makes no apologies.

The card is thrown.

The Table has Spoken.

Do what you must.

Mouthpiece of the Gods.

Weighs your Sins.

Perfect Justice.

I was wrong.

I sinned against you.

I've always known I was beneath you.

Your dog.

You've always cut me, down to the bone.

And I've never been strong enough to fight you off.

Even if I told myself otherwise.

Stop it. Stop hurting me.

I've got no soul to sell.

I gave you the last piece.

It's killing me.

Losing you like this.

Help me get away from myself.

You bring me closer to God.

{Don't make me sleep alone.}

This wasn't right. She wouldn't look at him in the eyes. She whimpered, coming down to her knees. And for once he didn't stop her reverence. Though it wasn't necessary. They were family, after all. Yes, he was their employer and in front of others it was important that the people understood without a shadow of doubt that he was the one in power here. That these were his men and women. His High Guard. He said jump, they asked how fucking high and liked it. Or he'd terminate their employment. Terminate their lives. The latter an empty threat. He wouldn't dare. He wasn't a savage like the Russians or the Chinese. He was an Italian man. And the Italians were men of honour. He had a reputation to uphold after all. His family name was at stake. He still lived very much under the Table. Under Gianna, under Lorenzo. Where shit actually gets done. He watched the man named Marquis. Looking from him to his apparently unwanted  bastard daughter. And it ripped his heart apart. The way they definitely looked similar. Biologically similar. About the eyes... the nose... She was much finer in her features, smaller frame, compact and powerful, even if she was a whimpering mess in Hector's loving arms. Ares did tell him she was taking pills. Some sort of herbal remedy to steady her nerves. She looked terrible. A nervous wreck. That scar on her neck... where he'd cut his initial into her flesh for her hateful indiscretion, it wasn't healing properly. Just like her broken collarbones. My god! This man said he didn't want her. He wasn't ready to be her father.. and now he had his own children. That tiny little girl. What was she? Seven? Eight? She looked like her father. Marquis left without so much as acknowledging him. Hector raged in fury. Christov and Ares and Curtis... they all bristled... pissed off. Wanting blood for making their sister in arms cry like this. He stepped aside and this man named Marquis passed him. "Figlio di puttana." (Son of a bitch.) Said Santino as he passed his shoulder. Loud enough that he knew clearly, that he was being addressed, even if Marquis did not understand Italian. It didn't matter. "Boss...." That was Christov again, tattooed hand on his shoulder. Tense... his pale eyes that he made paler by wearing those white blue contacts that gave the impression that he was a wolf in snow were unsettling. But they didn't hide the truth from Santino. He knew what was going on here. He shrugged himself away from Chris' hand. "Apetta un minuto." (Wait a minute.) Was his reply. He knew he had a plane to catch. That he was already forty minutes behind schedule. He'd have to make alternate arrangements at the airport. At this rate he'd as good as missed his first class service to Vienna. He didn't care. He'd catch a connecting service and accept the stop over. He'd settle for business class if he had to. Travel always made him tired anyway. But nothing made him as tired as this game they were playing. For...how long? Three weeks? A month? Six weeks? She was crying in Hector's arms. He held her through it all. The temper tantrum, the rage.   Ares signed to him now, 'Please Tino... She's dying slowly. Every day. And it's your fault. You keep this up and she's going to walk out on you. On us. And we're not gonna stop her. You're not gonna stop her. Because we will stop you. We have to. We're family. These are the rules. Your rules. Can you just apologize, please?'

Tony joined them now, catching the tail end of her quick gestures. Yes. He'd seen the text as well. God.. that's what this was all about?! Their boss took off on a business trip, she got bored and hooked up with some girl. Who cares?! Big deal. So hook-ups and break ups happen all the time. They'd all done it. They'd all had flings, two-timed other girls, other guys. Except maybe Hector. He had better morals than all of them put together. And now he was glaring daggers at Santino while he held his dancer and kissed her head and shushed her gently.

All five of them left his side.... left him standing there. Alone. Abandoned him. His family turned their back on him. They made it clear where their allegiances lay. They'd had enough of his angst-ridden bullshit. The entire Camorra High Guard went to stand in a line beside Lalienna. Hector, Ares, Christov, Marcus, Tony, Curtis. They stood beside her. Protecting her. From him. Hector spoke first. His heart was breaking. He'd had enough of this. "Santino D'Antonio. You have been my employer for almost ten years. I have stood beside you. Assembled your men and women. We have fought, bled and cried on the battle field. And in each other's arms. I've tasted your lips. Your blood. Your tears. I've tasted your suffering and your joy. I was there when you fell from grace. I was there to stop your father and sister killing you over what you did, when you did it to Marissa Conti. But I'm telling you right now... you fucking Italian cock-sucking prick...  That I won't stand by a minute longer and let you keep torturing this poor girl over an indiscretion."

"We know, boss." Said Curtis. "We all know now, exactly what happened. And why you're so pissed off with her. Now it makes sense... where that mark on her neck came from."

"You're a pig sometimes, motherfucker." That was Christov. Imposing in his tattoos. Angry. "You didn't want her to go hook up with some other bitch from a past life, well you should have taken her with you to Vienna. Rather than being such a hard ass and leaving her here." "I left her behind to protect her. She's not ready for the world." Santino snapped. "Shut the fuck up, dickhead. We're the one's doing the talking now. Not you." Christov fired back.

"Who do you think you are anyway?" Marcus added in aggravated questioning. "Prince of Rome? Really? You.... When you act like such a piece of shit? Didn't we tell you we'd cut off your balls if you hurt her? You're lucky we let it go on for so long, fuck face. We could have called Gianna any time and had your fucking ass reamed... And you know she'll tear you a new one. Just like she did for Miss. Conti. And that took you two years of cock sucking your daddy before he let you back out of your filthy cage, you cunt."

"I'll have you all killed for this..." Santino whispered, breathless.... Impossible....his own men were turning against him. This was mutiny! Dereliction of duty. Blackmail. Would they really call Gianna? "We'd like to see you try, Prince of Rome. Come on... let's take it outside. You wanna mutilate a girl, because you're a real man? Well we're real men too. Hell, Ares has a bigger pair of balls than you do right about now. Ain't you, baby girl?" Said Tony bitterly.

'You're out numbered, boss. Time to fold 'em. You've lost this hand. And we're not sorry. You're a good man sometimes, but this time... we have to take you down. And we don't need guns, knives or money for it. We're in your head. Under your skin. You let us in. Like vampires. You knew we'd always turn against you if it meant we had to protect one of our own. We're the Camorra High Guard. Lalienna is our solider as much as she's our sister. You don't fuck with the Italians. Santino. You don't fuck with us. Now say you're sorry.' Ares signed in passionate sweeps of her hands.

"Say you're sorry!" All five of them demanded at once. Like dogs... They had a bone in their mouths and they refused to let go.

"Don't make us tell you again." Said Hector. His eyes were pleading. He knew the truth. That Lalienna was pregnant with Santino's child. That she'd lose the baby if he kept tormenting her like this. Santino himself didn't know yet. It was up to the dancer to tell him. Only if she wanted to. If she didn't make arrangements to abort the baby first. Because it was still too soon in the affair. Santino had only started dating her seriously about two months ago. And he hadn't made the moves to buy that engagement ring he was looking at in the Crown Jewelers of London.

It worked. Their fire. Their fury. It was his fault after all. He'd trained them to be like this. To protect their own. They were Italian after all. They had different surnames, different backgrounds, different nationalities. Sure. But they were all raised and grown in Italy. And you don't fuck with the Camorra. His Camorra. He was supposed to be the Prince of Rome. Under Gianna. Under Lorezno

The Prince broke down.... The tears he'd been holding back all morning finally fell like rivers. Over his waterline... against his cheeks. Hitting his shoes... His shaking hands. Sable's words playing over in his head as well. No... he couldn't afford the cost of excommunication. He couldn't afford anything right now. He'd never been so poor in his entire life. Nothing mattered. The clothes, the cars, the money, the jewels. He felt empty. Empty without her. He cried bitterly. The tears fell like rivers.... And he came at her then. Dropping his bags, his overcoat flying off his shoulders as she rushed her and took the dancer in his arms and cried... and cried... and cried.... "I'm sorry.... Lalienna..... Please.... forgive me... I'm begging you... I'm so fucking sorry....I can't.... I'm not living like this any more... I'm dying without you. You're killing me.... Save me... There's nothing left.... I've no soul left to sell because I gave the last piece to you.....Please.... Please.....Lalienna.... Perdonami." (Forgive me.)  

Tears formed in her jade eyes, lip quivering slightly. She held back a sob, taking a breath.

“You…you never wanted me?” It felt as though her heart was breaking. Literally. The strings of her cardiac muscles were snapping, leaving her in the worst pain she’s ever felt… and she’s felt a lot of shit. She’s been through the worst, through hell. But this…this was worse. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her lungs wouldn’t produce the oxygen needed to stay alive. God, make it stop. Stop it! She couldn’t handle it. She clutched her heart, squeezing the fabric of her shirt in her fists. Her eyes broke. They relayed how she felt. So so so so ruined. So torn. So…worthless. Thrown away.

————

@f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat // here is your angst. Do with it what you will. ;) have fun, my angel of sadness.

God he was bitter. Blood boiling, red anger. Ares had texted him as he was sorting his bags, ready to leave, take his car to the air port. Unfinished business in Vienna. He left on a "family medical emergency" but they wouldn't hold her papers forever. It had been three weeks now, he had to go back. Even if he did want to slap her face. he pulled out his phone and read the message: 'Boss... you're being a fuck. Her real dad is here. The bastard that left her and her mother to die. He's actually come right into the hotel and he's downstairs with her now. Hector and Chris are guarding. But she's fucked over. And she's aching for you. You gotta let this go, Tino. It's not fair.'

He texted her back. He shouldn't have. But he'd finally had enough of her constant digging. Her and his entire Guard. He couldn't free himself from any of them. Christov, Marcus, Tony, Hector, Curtis.... Ares just added to the fire. So he gave in. Jabbing at his screen. His eyes stinging with unshed tears. And his shoulder burned where he'd be shot last week. Grazed by a bullet because he'd been careless on the field thinking of her in the middle of a hit job in Whitechapel that didn't go down according to plan. She was doing this to him. Making him lose focus. Lose control. 'She fucked another woman.' He pressed Send. Threw the phone on the bed and went to get his jacket out of the wardrobe. His arms had just slipped through when his phone went off again. He picked it up...Though he didn't want to. Unlocked the screen. And read Ares' reply. 'Marissa Conti Mark 2. Your call Boss.'

That cut him. He turned and with a roar he threw the phone into his bedroom mirror with such force the glass exploded in the antique gilded frame sending shards smashing out into all directions. The sound of glass cracking and giving way to impact. Like his heart was. Like his torn soul. Chaos... pain and chaos... Her father was here? Her biological father?   Really? He checked his holster. Four magazines, his beloved Baretta 92S, loaded and ready to go off. He flicked his thumb over the safety, releasing it. Fuck hotel rules. Fuck this stranger in his head. In his heart. He wanted to kill her. That's why he took to the streets and got reckless. Coming home shot up and bleeding over Sable's counter. "Rough night, Mr. D'Antonio?" The concierge asked. "Sempre duro, ultimamente." (Always rough, lately.) He'd answered.

He left the room behind. In the ruins of a broken mirror. His phone on the ground... the words appearing on the spiderweb of cracked glass that made up his broken screen. 'Marissa Conti Mark 2. Your call Boss.'

Ares sent the whole crew an SOS text. 'Guys... I think Tino's coming downstairs. He's going to be pissed off at us, big time. I just learned why he's been so salty this month. Lali's fucked another girl! No wonder! Guys, I mentioned Marissa again... I'm fucked right?'

Curtis responded. Marcus responded. 'We'll make your funeral arrangements babe. What colour you want your casket?' 'I'll go get a priest. Last Rites in Latin. Riposa in pace, Ares Vanguard.'

Sir Sable greeted the Italian crime boss with a bow of his head. "Good afternoon, Mr. D'Antonio. Your car is awaiting collection out front. Is there anything else I can do to ease you into your flight?" Santino's eyes were hard. He'd lost his smile a month ago and walked like a man ready for war. "Mr. DeMentriento, Lalienna's father is here?" "In the drawing rooms, Sir. With Miss DeMentriento. And she appears extremely distressed." "How much to make you lift house rules?" The question was fired as a bullet. He came at the counter now and looked Sable dead in the eyes. The two men glared daggers at each other. Sable was furious. Murder? In his house?! Unthinkable! "Can you really afford Excommunication, Mr. D'Antonio?" A growl, through gritted teeth. Sable reared like a wolf. He asked without flinching. He meant it. He'd make the call to Jeremy. "Can you? Prince of Rome?"

He won. Santino backed away. A smile that didn't reach his eyes played about his features. "No." He stepped away from the counter. Away from Sable whose hand was on the phone. And he stalked the lobby. Ares appeared from the gardens. And Marcus from the stairwell. The pair flanked him. Silent. They were tense. Tight. Militant. Marching two paces behind the Italian prince. The doors of the drawing room were opened back for the trio. There she was.... This was the first time he'd laid eyes on her in a month. And there was a man beside her... in front of her. Talking. Chistov eyed down his employer. Anger and pity upon his face. Fucking Ares.... she'd told them everything, hadn't she? Did they read the text? Did they now know the truth? Why he was angry?

Hector was appeared now, tense and aggravated. He’d gotten the text. He read everything. Christov signed to him: ‘Dude, you were supposed to hold him up? Distraction!’

Hector replied with quick hands: ‘Bad timing. This could get ugly. Watch for his guns. Protect Lali.’

"Lalienna. Santino stopped his march just inside the room. Waiting  for her to turn. To face him. He wanted to see the damage. The ruins he'd dragged her through. Was that her father? That man right there? He breathed in... a shuddering breath. Breathed out. Stepped forward. Extended his hand. This was his lover's father. He'd pay his respects. Even if he did want to put a bullet in his fucking brain. "Signore.... I'm your daughter's intended. Santino D'Antonio, how do you do?"

Tears formed in her jade eyes, lip quivering slightly. She held back a sob, taking a breath.

“You...you never wanted me?” It felt as though her heart was breaking. Literally. The strings of her cardiac muscles were snapping, leaving her in the worst pain she’s ever felt... and she’s felt a lot of shit. She’s been through the worst, through hell. But this...this was worse. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her lungs wouldn’t produce the oxygen needed to stay alive. God, make it stop. Stop it! She couldn’t handle it. She clutched her heart, squeezing the fabric of her shirt in her fists. Her eyes broke. They relayed how she felt. So so so so ruined. So torn. So...worthless. Thrown away.

————

@f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat // here is your angst. Do with it what you will. ;) have fun, my angel of sadness.

Only The Finest Will Reign

Welcome to ‘Reign’ - Underworld of Sin. 

House Rules Apply. 

Guns at the Door.

Along with your Inhibitions. 

And your blood money bullshit. 

We’re not interested in your dramas. Your grudges, your family feuds are mute. You come here to party. Heels, Designer Dresses... And your Finest Suit. We want you dripping in Diamonds. We want you dripping in Gold. Right here’s where we want you. Get a drink, get bought, get sold. 

Ladies on the dance floor. Burlesque and poles. Gents grab those girls, back to back, grind ‘em souls.

We come here to dance. Drop our guns and sing. We come here to party. Forget everything. 

‘Coz the streets are dirty. The bullets and bombs.  

But when we come to party. We’re writing new Psalms.

ONLY THE FINEST WILL ‘REIGN’

The Camorra High Guard

Pride of Italy. 

Royalty of Rome. 

Criminal Landmarks. 

It starts and ends here. Even though we are visitors to England. Guests of London. Allies of Iron Fortuna. Under the Table, for Lorenzo D’Antonio. Under the Table, for Gianna D’Antonio. Under the Table far beneath Athena, The White Women, The Tower of London. We are your allies. We stand together. We believe in the power of Family. Because blood will always be thicker than water. We believe in an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. We have guns, blades, dogs and money. We’re the first and last Gangsters you want rolling up to your house. Late at night, we’re in the alleyways, in the streets. In your houses, in your car parks. We own our cities and we’re about to own yours. Our brothels, nightclubs and dockyards. And you can say you don’t need us. But we’re still waiting on your protection money. Because we are both Death and Taxes. Checks and Balances. Crime and Punishment. Rules and Consequences. 

Pay up or shut up mother fucker. Yeah, we did. We fucked over your wife, your sister and your mother. We enjoyed it. We’d do it again for fun. While you’re watching. So salute. Step out of that car. Hands up. Stand and Deliver. 

We do this for Italy. We do this for Rome. 

You say we can’t, but you stop us you won’t. 

We are the Camorra High Guard. 

We are the Italian Silk Mafia. 

Game on, bitches. Play on.

When you love till it hurts....

"You must travel dark hallways to get there. And it is a place of sin. The Red Door stands as the gateway to abandon. And you'll do anything if they let you in." ~ Sable

{| @lalienna-dementriento @f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat |}

Yes, I made her wait. I shut her out. Shut her down. And it killed me to do it. I shouldn't have marked her. I shouldn't have theatened her. But I was suffering, bleeding out. She didn't see it. The way she held me under. Drowning me.

Have mercy lover. I won't survive you like this. There's a piece of the painting that's been slashed away forever. Why did it have to be the wings?

There's something pure, in their final moments. When you watch Death. The light leaves their eyes.... It's intimate, primal. It grounds you. Reminds you we are not permanent on this world. Just passing shadows, moving through time and space. I weigh their sins against my hands as their soul departs. I take them in against my blade, like a lover's confession. Cradle the body with infinite respect. I am Death. Their final destination. I pray for their safe passage to the Underworld. Eventually, one day, I will take my place beside them.

“This is, uhm… You’re gonna see Keanu really turn on this sort of reptilian John Wick. It’s just, you know, the audience has been chuckling and laughing and then… John stabs a guy in throat and everyone’s like, “What?! Wha… What?” There’s a little intimacy there. It’s just…the boogeyman’s out of the bag.“ —Chad Stahelski and David Leitch, taken from the John Wick director’s commentary.

Judeth Clayton: Blood & Gold

Thirteen Beside the Queen.

And now she’s a broken mask in the Halls of Hell.

The Gods themselves will hold you down.

One last shot, two souls to sell.

Betrayed the cause for Love.

Rose to take the Throne.

Burned them all in revolution.

Fallen back to stone.

{[ @f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat - @lalienna-dementriento - Proudly Introducing Judeth Clayton of John Wick || Blood & Gold ]}

John Wick: Rebellion

When you left me, I left I this world.

Buried under cement and stone.

They dragged me back into this moment.

And forced my hand to be disowned.

Now I am again risen.

Vengeance is once more my name.

I am the Bird of Hermes.

Eating my wings to make me tame.

|{ @f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat - @lalienna-dementriento A Gift to you my Faithful Friends. I give to you, Excommunicato - John Wick. }|