ROMAN'S P.O.V
TWENTY YEARS AGO.
“Come here Romano.” Papa gestured to me. He sat behind his oak desk, a permanent scowl etched on his face. I walked slowly towards him, my eyes focused and sharp.
He took a long draw of his cigar, letting the smoke twirl in front of me. My eyes watered, and I felt the urge to cough, but I didn't. If I did, Papa would use his belt on me. “What is it I hear?” Elio Cappellucci asked with a deep frown.
My throat bobbed, I knew where this was going, but I tried to show no sign of fear. Fear was a weakness I could not afford.
“I'm sorry Papa. I will get it right next time.” The word barely left my mouth when Elio's angry hand connected with my face. I heard the thunderous sound, before feeling the impact - white hot pain.
Tears gathered in the back of my ey
