Saint and Sinner

Chapter 1

Five years later….

Rafel

I stepped out of the car, taking in the sight of the house in front of me.

It was nothing. A house so painfully ordinary it begged to be ignored. But that was the point, wasn’t it?”

would think a place like this was hiding a ruthless, cunning, cruel man? The kind of man I liked to keep close. Well, close enough. But there was one other thing about Mark—he was a thief.

And in this city, no one dared steal from me. No one with any sense. To steal from me and think you’d outsmart me? That wasn’t just bold; it was stupid.

I knocked. Mark opened the door, smiling until he saw me. The smile faltered, replaced by fear.

“Don… Rafael,” he stammered, stepping back, his movements clumsy and unsure.

I stepped inside without a word, the faint smell of simmering sauce wafting from the kitchen,he was the take out kind of man . He was expecting someone tonight—just not me.

“W-why are you here?” His voice trembled.

“Visiting,” I replied, my tone laced with sarcasm.

His lips twitched nervously. "If that were true, you would've sent word. You only show up unannounced when someone’s ….”

His voice trailed off as his eyes darted to Roman, who stood silently behind me.

Roman was a shadow. Silent. Unwavering. He’d been with me the longest.

Mark’s gaze lingered on Roman, realization dawning. I didn’t make house calls unless someone was about to die.

His face turned pale, and his trembling hand gripped the edge of a nearby chair. “I didn’t steal from you, Don. I swear, I would never—”

A smirk tugged at my lips. I didn’t need to yell. I didn’t need to make a scene. Slow and deadly always worked better.

“That’s not all you did, Mark. You talked to the Morettis, and now my shipment is gone. So, do you want to talk now, or should we wait for your guest to arrive?”

I leaned back, inhaling deeply. He wouldn’t give me the name without a fight. Mark was stubborn, but breaking him would be… enjoyable.

“If I tell you…” His voice cracked. “They’ll kill me.”

I tilted my head toward Roman. No words were needed. Roman grabbed Mark, dragging him toward the kitchen. The man didn’t fight, what would’ve been the point?

He was stripped to his shorts and tied to a chair near the stove.

Luke, one of my newer recruits, brought over a stool, tapping Mark’s shoulder , mocking

Normally, I’d let someone else handle this part. But Mark wasn’t just another name on a list. He wanted my attention? He had it.

The sauce on the stove bubbled softly. I took it down, I'm not savage, I don't waste food.

I grabbed the knife set on the counter. I placed the butcher knife on the flame, the steel hissing as it heated, and picked up a smaller blade.

Crouching to meet his terrified eyes, I held the knife up, letting the light catch its edge.

“Rafael, per favore... abbi pietà... possiamo risolverla parlando.”

Mercy. Such a pathetic word.

I pressed the knife against his torso, dragging it slowly across his skin. Not deep enough to kill him, but deep enough to see blood. Enough to hear him scream.

And he did scream . Music to my ears.

“Talk, or bleed out.”

After about five minutes passed.

“…I’ll talk.”

“Roman,” I said, standing up, “help him, please.”

"Roman lifted the glowing blade. No hesitation. He stuffed a towel in Mark’s mouth and pressed the steel to flesh. The hiss. The muffled screams. The convulsions. Beautiful.

When his screams subsided, Roman pulled the towel out.

“Name.”

“Taza,” he gasped, his voice barely audible. “It was Taza. The Morettis approached us—they offered more money if we betrayed you. Don, I’m sorry. Please…”

Tears streamed down his face, his words broken.

Roman shoved the towel back into his mouth, ignoring the fresh cry of pain. Taza. The Morettis. It always came back to them. This feud had lasted longer than I could remember. Decades, maybe more. I barely even Remembered what had started it….

“Uncle Mark?”

The voice was soft, tentative, cutting through my thoughts like a knife.

Roman and Luke tensed, ready to act. I raised a hand, stopping them.

“I’m back,” the voice called out, closer now.

“James is about thirty minutes behind. He’ll be here soon, Uncle Mark?.”

Mark whimpered behind me. I shot him a sharp look, silencing him.

“Uncl—”

She entered the kitchen, stopping short as her hazel eyes met mine. Confusion flickered, her gaze darting between me and Mark, who sat trembling and bloodied in the chair.

Instinct took over. She moved to rush to him, but Luke grabbed her, his gun pressing to her temple. She froze, her entire body shaking.

My eyes stayed on hers, unblinking.

And then it hit me.

The feud. What started it. A woman.

It always came back to the love of a woman.

Early twenties, drowning in modesty;long skirt, buttoned blouse, hair locked in a bun.

She looked decent. Too decent.

But it didn’t hide her;the faint glow of her skin, the fullness of her lips pressed in fear, the curve of her neck visible under the blouse. Her hazel eyes glistened with unshed tears, soft even in terror.

It was maddening. A contradiction. She didn’t belong in this world, in my world, and yet, for a moment, I couldn’t look away.

An Ache shot through me. Not pity. I didn’t do pity.

“Put the gun down,” I said, my voice sharp.

Luke hesitated.

“Put it down. Even if she ran, she wouldn’t get far in that skirt.”

I couldn’t help it. Despite her modest appearance, something about her drew me in. Against my better judgment, I stepped closer. My hand reached for the back of her head, and she didn’t flinch, her eyes locked on mine, defiant despite the fear.A quiet strength that begged to be tested.

I undid the tight bun, letting her hair fall—jet black, impossibly long. Beautiful. I wanted to touch her face, to feel its softness, but she turned away, using her hair as a shield.

I wasn’t one to let someone hide. I caught the strands in my hand, tucking them behind her ear, but my fingers froze when I felt it—a faint scar at the base of her skull.

“What happened here?” My voice was quieter than I expected, softer.

Her eyes flicked to her uncle, searching for approval. He gave her the smallest nod.

“I had an accident when I was eighteen,” she said, her voice shaky but steady. “Suffered head trauma and…” She paused, her throat working against the lump threatening to choke her.

“And?” I pressed, though I wasn’t sure why I cared.

“Selective memory loss,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Traumatizing events… I don’t remember my…”

Her voice broke entirely.

I didn’t ask her to finish. The pain in her eyes grew, sharp and raw, and there it was again—that stupid ache in my chest.

Her story wasn’t my business, I told myself. It didn’t matter. But my hand lingered for just a second too long before I pulled away.

I turned back to Mark. “ I’ve got better things to do.”

Mark started struggling again, his muffled cries growing, I pulled out the towel in his mouth.

Mark’s words hit me like a punch to the gut.

“Please, you have to keep her safe.”

I blinked, the shock of his plea momentarily throwing me off. “What?”

“You owe me,” he said fiercely, his voice steady for the first time since I’d walked through the door. The fear that had consumed him moments ago seemed to vanish, replaced by something resolute.

“Six years ago, I saved your sister. You promised to repay the debt. Now I ask— a life for a life. Not mine, but hers.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, low and disbelieving. “So you think keeping her with me is safe?”

Mark leaned forward as much as his restraints would allow. “The Morettis must have bugged the house. I betrayed them. Even after you kill me, they’ll come for them,murder them in cold blood. They won’t stand a chance. Elena and James were going to join the convent tomorrow. She was officially becoming a nun, and her brother was joining the church. But they won’t be safe there anymore.”

A nun.

They spoke of salvation—she whispered only sin. 'Peccato.'

Mark’s voice turned raspy, his breathing uneven as he pressed on. “That day…

You gave me your word, a life for a life , you’re a man who keeps his word.”

His words dug at something buried deep within me. I stared at him, then at Elena, her tear-streaked face pale and fixed on her uncle.

Her gaze flicked briefly to the burn on his chest, a burn courtesy of me. That clawing feeling in my chest came back.

I took a deep breath, considering his words. He wasn’t lying. Six years ago, my sister had a gun to her head, and I wasn’t fast enough to save her. But Mark had been. He’d stepped in when I couldn’t.

I turned back to Elena, her wide hazel eyes locked on her uncle. That burn in my chest hit deeper.

“Okay then,” I said finally, my voice measured. “You have my word. Just like you saved my sister, I’ll keep her safe from the people who want to hurt her.”

Mark sagged with relief. “Thank you.”

But Elena wasn’t done. “What about my brother?” she demanded, her voice sharp, cutting. “You’re not leaving him behind.”

A smile crept onto my lips. Smart. Too smart. Most people didn’t bother reading the fine print, but she did. I’d agreed to her safety, not her brother’s.

“Excuse me?” I said, feigning confusion.

“You agreed to protect me,” she said, her voice trembling but steady, “but not my brother. And I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re a killer.”

My eyes swept over her again. Defiant when on edge. Sharp. A wicked tongue. My Isabella would like her. They’d be fast friends.

I turned back to Mark. “It was nice knowing you, friend,” I said, my voice cool.

Mark gave her a silent nod, his expression one of resignation. A futile assurance that everything would somehow be okay. She didn’t believe it. Another smart move.

“Rafael…”

I pulled the trigger, and the gunshot rang out, loud and final. The bullet hit him square in the forehead. He slumped instantly, blood pooling beneath him.

A choked scream caught in Elena’s throat.

She quickly went to his side.

tears came faster now, her shoulders shaking.

“My brother, please,” she said, her voice breaking.

Another Ache. That clawing feeling again, relentless.

The words left my mouth before I could stop them. “Luke, the brother. When he gets here, bring him with you. He missed the whole show.”

As I moved toward her, she instinctively stepped back, her body rigid with fear.

“ Well Peccato are you ready”