Send Me Your Thoughts

Death does not terrify me— the permanence of it does. One moment you're alive and full of everything the world offers you, and then for the rest of eternity, you're nothing. The permanence of death shatters me. To lay deep within the earth until the only one to remember your name is time itself. And we can promise to remember their name forever, but we too will one day become the void that they left behind in our hearts.

S.L.O.T.H

There are some places you go when you cannot rest.

When you lose the one you love.

They say your soul crosses over to the other side. What comes back is a shadow.

What comes back cannot be bought or sold. It cannot be burned or drowned.

But he came back for love. For vengeance.

And she gave him the last gold coin.

JW. Blood of The Raven King.

New Chapter Coming Sunday.

Dance // Various Artists

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.

Wayne Tsay on Instagram

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.

Mark

My

Words

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.

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