The Mafia's Mercy

b as my hand clenches onto the fingers of my other hand nervously. My leg

this moment, its rapid beats a testament to the fear

ted ways with me the day that my brother walked out the front door of my childhood home. Now, in the quiet of

ober. The problem is that while intoxicated me is typically a lot better at handling stressful situations, intoxicated me

re to ki

s though I’m physically shrinking three feet shorter. His hard gaze watches me intently, an unreadable look playing on his features as he lowers himself onto the blac

hing me helplessly struggle to keep myself from having a nervous breakd

ucking

m. “Then, why the gun?” I confront him, wanting to not give him

e way that he used to, he raises his unoccupied hand in defeat. With the lapel of his suit jacket in his hand, he dr

abit,” he sings me

e doorway. In black slacks, leather jackets, combat boots, and black v-neck t-sh

know it. I didn’t know that he, the son of Guillermo Saldívar, the heir to

nged names, he offered to drive me back to the safety of my home. Bei

with no friends, desperate for companionship—even

d front door of my childhood home. With my keys in my hands, I looked up at him, offer

ded very badly for me and drove me home, but that all I had to offer him was a chocolate

fucki

uld extend my gratitude, and all I could th

he hesitation flash o

at least I told m

ned for the door, telling me, “I just wan

. I’d be lying if I said that a part of me didn’t feel disappointed that he didn’t want

as I a

is hands into his navy blue jean’s pockets. Despite my obvious insecur

e a man that I didn’t know, begging that he’d say t

ort distance between us. The knuckle of his index finger gently lift

o his compelling ones as he murmured, “I’m dang

I should’ve listened and sh

oul

l suddenly says, pulling me out of the memories flashing in my m

vi

ng that, at the very least, my brother’s alive. However,

. It’s obvious that I don’t have the answer to his question, and while I

from him? How much did he steal? Why? Wh

ing to ha

says it all: he wants answ

I wanted to give them t

lightly, “I-I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to Le

n’t believe me. He sighs as though he’d expected as much, threatening me, “So if I tea

brow before adding, “Or better y

telling him, “No. I ha

efore I can mutter another word, he turns to th

the sound of the glass bottles of my cheap perfume shattering against the floor,

thers me. When the awfully large bald man with dark brown eyes suddenly emerges from my closet holding a brown leather

my

he empty space between Marcel and I. In one swift motion, he unzips the

of my hands break a coat of light sweat, my chest rising a

aring as he glares bullets into my skull. I hardly notice when the man who’d been crouching between

oes with a dangerous tone. “There is no

has gone dry, and as I avert my sight to the empty doorway, I contemplate the odds of

n ten feet from that do

ading, “I-I didn’t know that wa

. It’s useless, my breath hitching in my lungs as he harshly takes my arms into his hold, forcing me up onto my feet. He pulls me into him, my body flushed against him as he look

oblem, Mercy. It’s mine. You were keeping something t

ar

be strikes a string of shivers through my spine, and my knees buckle. Under his strong hold, anothe

y with words—just li

sisted that he’d at least allow me to make him a

g on the brown wooden coaster. “Thank you,” he was polite, despite how obviously he’d be

e leaned back into the backrest. His arm rested on the table, extended while the ot

about how my parents had gotten mixed up with a very bad man and how my brother pushed me to go to school. I told him about how I’d gotten offered full-ride

ith anyone. All the while, he merely listened. I was so caught up in talking about myself that I didn’t realize that I knew absolutely nothing about h

stupid all of the times

droom an hour later after he’d sl

heless, it was large enough for a queen sized bed positioned against the wall, a small white nightstand, a mounte

assume that purple is your favorite

pulling it up and over my head. I tossed it onto the foot of the bed, motioning to the pastel t-shirt wit

brother won’t be back until the morning,” I said with hesitation, afraid that I wasn’t subtle at all to how desperate I was to

at least tried to

n’t w

ate to be wanted, and I pretended t

when he moved to close the distance between us

e it

im, his tongue danced with mine, dominating me without a fight in me to resist him. First, I kicked the shoes off of my feet, so when

aned softly against his lips as his hand trailed ghostly touches

he way he kissed me, I w

allowed him to strip

o deep that as he laid on top of me, stripped of the clothes that hardly did his muscular body an

is hard member pulsated in the condom he’d wrapped it in, his hooded eyes holding mine unwaveringly, inviting me to trus

to my ear. He planted a feather-like kiss o

till, I was at

w still, I a