Nera
Fear claws at me, crawling over my skin as I stare at the man sitting before me. His arms are spread on the back of the front-row pew, while his eyes roam up and down my body as if assessing his new possession. I’ve never met the head of the Camorra Clan before, but I’ve seen a few images of him on social media. He’s lankier than in the photos, and his hollow cheeks and the grayish tint of his skin are even more pronounced in person.
“I knew your daddy wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but I never expected him to be so stupid as to back out of our deal.” He smiles, revealing two rows of nicotine-stained teeth. One of his eyes seems to be misaligned, turned inward, which makes his grimace more grotesque. “I expected you to be prettier.”
He rises and grabs my chin, his fingers br
