ISLA
~•~
The man was dead.
I’d woken up to headlines about the execution of a very familiar man. It wasn’t like I knew him too well, but I’d obviously recognize the man whom I slapped just the other night.
He had touched me. I had slapped him. Now, he was gone.
I didn’t need anyone to tell me who did it. It wasn’t a coincidence. Nothing was a coincidence in the underworld.
My stomach twisted painfully, unable to fathom that a man died because of me. Last night, in front of everyone, Lorenzo had claimed me. The man dared to test it. Now, he was gone. The message was clear. Even someone with a normal life would be able to put the pieces together.
The worst part? No one would question Lorenzo because in the mafia world, his killing was justified. Women were like properties and made men
