I thought I knew fear.
Being constantly wanted dead by other mafia rivals, including Papa’s or Judas’s sometimes. Being on their radar always. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone is watching me right now.
But as I stare at Massimo’s emotionless face, I realise… I know nothing about fear. Or if I did, I’ve long since forgotten.
Because Massimo, three years older than me, is redefining it for me. Reconstructing it for me. Making it something far worse than I ever imagined.
For two years, his hatred and disgust for me were my armour, the only things that carried me into hell and through it. Cause
But now as I stand with my hands locked behind my back, my chest pressing against his and his deep eyes staring into my soul. That armour shattered. Not like glass. Not like poetry. It crumbles l
