My Future Brother-In-Law

Marcino’sPOV

"Late afternoon, Salvatore's office. Golden light through the blinds, but it's all wrong. This place reeks of stale cigars and old leather. Dust floats around, pretending it's peaceful. But I know better.

Tony's across from Salvatore's desk, looking like he owns it. Blood on his face, that same cocky smirk. His shirt's stained red, but he doesn't flinch. Pisses me off.

He thinks this is a joke. My knuckles still hurt from earlier. I flex my hand, feeling the throb. He's about to learn it's not.

I stare him down, his blood mixing with the smoke. He looks back like he's got nothing to lose. That smug look? Gone.

I step closer, deliver another punch to his jaw. His head snaps back, sick crack filling the room. He grunts, wipes blood from his lip, and smiles."

"Is that all, Marc?" Tony's voice dripped with mockery.

He's got no clue.

I glanced at Salvatore, silent behind his desk. He looked worn, but I knew he wouldn't intervene.

Tony had crossed a line.

I leaned in, voice icy. "You screwed up, Tony. Big time."

Pause.

"Your recklessness almost cost us everything."

My eyes locked onto his.

"Your sister's life was on the line because of you."

The words hung heavy.

Tony's gaze didn't flinch.

He didn't care.

Not about the family.

Not about his sister.

"If it were up to me," I spat, "you'd be done."

Salvatore leaned forward, palms slapping the desk. "You screwed up, kid," he growled. "I warned you. Repeatedly. But you ignored me."

His eyes narrowed, face twisted in frustration and fury. "Your recklessness put your sister at risk. If anything happened to her..."

His voice trailed off, menace hanging in the air.

Tony's gaze dropped, but I saw no remorse.

Salvatore's sentence hung unfinished, the unspoken words echoing through the room like a challenge. We all knew the implication: Tony's life hung by a thread.

"You'd be floating in the Hudson," Salvatore growled, his voice low and menacing.

I clenched my fists, knuckles aching with restrained anger. Salvatore had always been lenient with Tony, but even he recognized this crossed a line. This wasn't just business; it was family.

Tony's carelessness had put his sister's life at risk. Unforgivable.

Yet, Tony showed no remorse. The arrogant bastard wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes gleaming with defiance.

He straightened up, rolling his shoulders like a fighter ready for the next round. "Lucky, huh?" he sneered, that signature smirk twisting his lips.

He wiped his lip again, and a smug, careless smile spread across his face. It was as if he still held the upper hand.

My anger boiled over. How could he be so relaxed?

My anger boiled over. How could Tony be so calm?

"He still doesn't get it," I thought. "He thinks he's in control."

I stepped forward, casting a shadow over him. The room felt thick with tension.

"Tony, you don't get to choose," I said, my voice tight with anger. "Not today.”

His smile faltered for a split second. Good.

I stepped even closer, feeling the room shrink as my presence filled the space between us. Every breath felt like a countdown, the promise of violence lingering in the air.

Tony wasn’t walking out of here the same. If he even walked out at all.

I ghosted down the carpeted hall, my footsteps totally muted by the plush fibers, ya feel? The Misfits' sick beat pulsed through the walls, a wild contrast to the tense vibe. My heart was racing, every pulse syncing with the music, each step a countdown to whatever was gonna go down.

As I burst through the door, the hinges groaned in protest. I shed my clothes like a second skin - top, jeans, everything - leaving a trail of discarded fabric in my wake. The damp smell of worn fabric hung in the air as I slammed the door shut, blocking out the chaos outside.

Stepping into the bathroom was like entering a sanctuary. Warmth enveloped me, a stark contrast to the chill that had seeped into my bones. I avoided the mirror, not ready to face the haunted look in my eyes.

Instead, I cranked the shower to scalding and stepped under its punishing stream. The water felt like a thousand tiny burns, each one scouring away the stains of my past. My hair clung to my face, heavy and soaked, the heat suffocating yet strangely comforting.

That memory still haunted me. Six months later, it felt like yesterday. Blood on my face, etched in my mind.