S T E F A N O D R A G N A

"I j- just wa- want to tr- treat your a- arm," she stutters almost every single word, her blue eyes wide in panic and her pulse erratic.

Am I going to kill her?

Of course, I will if she can't shut her annoying mouth.

Since when have people become too reckless and started crossing with mobsters? And not just a mobster at that, but a fucking mafia don, one of the most lethal mafioso in the States. She has to learn to mind her fucking business if she wants to have a pulse in her throat.

"Please, Mr. Dragon," she pleads with me as I loosen my grip on her throat, surprising myself. She better stop messing up my name, or I might as well put a gun on her forehead.

What's stopping me?

The fact that I don't have a gun.

"It looks bad," she whispers, her eyes sliding to my wound, a frown settling between her brows.

Why is she requesting me?

Letting go of her neck, I eye her cynical; she still has that annoying chihuahua face. Rolling my eyes, I lift my arm, bringing the cigar to my lips with sheer force. The flesh throbs around my wound because of the movement as I take a puff from my cigar, cerebrally reminding me to aid the wound before it aggravates.

The Bouras' fuckers aren't getting away with this.

Even though I don't permit her, she starts digging into her first aid kit, pulling out equipments to aid it. Cautiously, she approaches me and grips my blood-soaked upper arm gently, as if it will snap in her dainty fingers' grip. Taking out cotton and a bottle of alcohol, she first cleans the blood around the wound. Squashing every hiss that builds in my throat, I let her aid my wound.

As she pulls out gauze pads and tape, I continue smoking, pondering over what the Bouras men have done tonight. It pisses every single nerve in my body. Sure, Justin has done an amazing job — blowing off the building giving an emergent gesture to escape, but I have lost my men. The fuckers managed to escape as well, then started to chase us and I ended up running and jumping on the roofs like an assassin.

I have taken down six gangs, but none of them have challenged me as much as these Greek fuckers do. They have wronged my woman, attacked my clubs, stolen my shipments, and now this; they are slowly stripping me of power and control. 

Only they don't see the tornado they are making me into. It won't take me long to shatter their walls and pull their feet off of their ground. The wisest of them will stand back and watch me destroy, and the thick-headed ones will get the damn hell destroyed out of their lives.

My gaze flits back to the girl who looks anything but dangerous. 

However, isn't feigning death and innocence a game of deception mastered by predators? It is, from the animal kingdom to the crime world, every predator is vigilant and agile. Deception comes like an instinct and that's how they make it to the top. So, I don't trust this girl with a single cell in my being.

Why is she offering me help?

If this is a trap by the Bouras shit-asses or someone else, then my chances of survival are almost minimal. I can't trust anyone. My life is always in a war zone.

"That's it," she says with a smile on her face. 

"Show me your Identity Card," I demand her.

"You just can't ask a stranger for her identity card, Mr. Dragna." She narrows her eyes on mine, shaking her head, which only makes her more suspicious.

"You don't either go on helping a bleeding stranger on a road," I retort her logic.

"I've helped you because you're bleeding." She defends herself.

"Shut the fuck up and show me your Identity Card!" A roar works up in my throat, annoyance clear in my voice. She flinches because of my volume before she pulls the card out and hands it to me.

Snagging the card from her hands, I inspect it if it's a legal one or a fake one.

It's legal.

Jane Wood.

19 years? Is she really a fucking naive girl who has dared to treat my arm?

Fucking weird.

"Give me your phone," I ask, returning her I'd card.

Because of the let-us-blow-off-the-building dicky stunt which Justin has pulled, I have lost my phone, my valet, and my car keys along with my suit jacket in the building.

My home from here is an hour's drive. There's no way I'm going to simply walk and reach home.

Without any protest, she gives me her phone, and I open the dial pad. My thumb presses on the buttons to Justin's phone before calling him and bringing it to my ear.

"Where are you?" I ask him, my voice having an edge to it.

Justin, being the even-kneeled pain in the ass he is, takes his sweet time before answering, "just got them rid of my tail. Where are you?"

"West Adams, three lanes down the burning building," I answer him, my eyes swinging back to the girl who is now looking at the building, clutching her first aid kit.

"Meet you in five,"

Hanging up the call, I return the phone to the girl and wait for the assassin. After a few minutes of idly standing, headlights cast light on the nearly empty street before a Tesla comes to a halt. The door flies open, and Justin glances at me from behind the wheel. I march over to the car and jump into the passenger seat before gazing at Jenna... Janelle... Jennifer.. eh, whatever. It is a girl at the end of the day.

I open the door, signaling her to come in. All she gives me is a stupid blank expression.

"How long does it take you to get into the car?" I growl at her.

Her eyebrows slash as she mumbles, "excuse me, you didn't even offer me a ride."

Justin pokes his head out, chiming, "he has now. Get in, chirp bird."

Her eyebrows shoot up before she gives me a subtle smile. "Sorry, Mr. Dragna, I don't have a habit of going in a stranger's car."

"And is the Uber driver your uncle?" I inquire, keeping my tone keenly sarcastic.

A chuckle bursts from my assassin's lips as the girl's cheeks flush. Her eyes dart around the street before she puckers her lips, shaking her head. "My Uber will be here anytime,"

Her phone beeps just in time with a notification which I'm sure is about low battery. Since it has been fucking two percentage when I have called Justin, it is probably out now.

"Still want to rely on that Uber driver?" I challenge her, her eyes move from her blank phone screen to my face before she blows a puff of air and strolls towards the car.

If she is innocent, she may believe I am offering her a ride. But I'm merely testing her.

"I don't have all night just get in the fucking car," I snap and her chest heaves before she starts walking briskly.

From the looks of it, she doesn't seem to trust us either. Good for her. Men like Justin and I are cold-blooded predators. She saunters over to the car and jumps into the back seat. She doesn't even bother with securing the seat belt, she just sits there with an alert stance and Justin puts the car into motion. Producing a power back from her backpack, she pins it to her phone.

Justin asks her about her address and she tells her University name and the landmark as I sit quietly, planning how I will slaughter the Bouras.

"Can you turn on the radio, please?" A meek voice comes from behind. I'm actually surprised Justin let this be a silent ride instead of chattering or playing music.

"No, but he can turn you on." Justin's lips tug into a smug smirk, and I scoff. Here, I'm thinking Justin can be quiet for a moment. In the mirror reflection, I see a blush creep up to the girl's cheeks.

"Shut the fuck up!" I snarl, narrowing my eyes on Justin, smacking the radio button on roughly. At least the music is better than Justin's sexual innuendos.  

"I nostri uomini sono morti!" I hiss as the girl looks out of the window, probably not understanding a word.

Our men are dead!

"Che facciamo se capisce?" Justin inquires, tilting his head towards the girl, assessing her as he switches lanes. The way his fingers are gripping the wheel, I know he is barely containing the rage.

What if she understands?

"There you are

You're there with open arms

There you are

There you......."

A soft hum to the song fills in the air and the assassin slams the radio button off. Never mind, if the girl wants to do something, then there is no stopping her; she takes her phone out and starts playing songs.

"No," I assure him before adding, "dovremmo attaccare quando meno se lo aspettano."

We should attack when they're not even expecting.

"Girl, will you stop those fucking songs?" Justin growls, a vein in his throat popping out.

"No," 

While the car is still in drive, he swivels in his seat with his assassin lithe and snatches my phone from the girl. Before she can attempt to grab it back, he throws it out of the window.

"That's my phone. Idiot, that was gifted by my brother," she bawls out. The volume of her scream was dangerously close to tearing my eardrums. 

If I have a gun in my hands, I would've shot her brains out

"Justin, stop the car!" I command. 

Obliging my order, he flashes the girl a silly grin, saying, "Chirp bird, you should learn to stop annoying people. Get down from the fucking car."

I turn to look at the girl. She looks like she is about to cry while Justin is still unfazed by his action. The sheen of tears in her blue eyes surprises me, pain swirling in them. 

Finding pain in a person's eyes isn't new to me. Hell, it comes naturally with being in a crime world, and I have no interest in finding the reason behind her pain. However, the fact that leaving a girl in a secluded street of Los Angeles without a phone to call someone or anyone if she needs help doesn't sit well with me.

I know the monsters that roam on these streets. I'm not blind to the horror they unleash on women, and I never want that for any female.

"Justin, get down and get the phone back," I order, rolling my eyes. Justin gazes at me in utter shock. I glare at him, which confirms to him I'm not joking. With an annoyed expression, he climbs down from the car and goes in search of her phone.

"He'll get that shitty phone now, don't cry," I hiss, clicking my fingers to calm my nerves.

What is up with her?

She doesn't seem to be scared of me, which is extremely weird.

"Catch it, pretty ass," Justin throws the broken parts of the phone at her, climbing behind the wheel.

"My phone!" She sounds like a bawling baby, gripping those broken parts.

Fucking Justin!

"It's my brother's gift for my birthday, you idiot. I don't even live with my parents, and if I have to contact them, how do you expect me to do that? Justin, you're so fucking arrogant! How come you just give me broken pieces of my phone and not even apologize?" She goes on a big rant this time, and I groan, not wanting to hear anymore.

She has a point. While I'm in no mood to listen to her ranting, I just can't stomach the thought of putting a female in risk. Since I also had a long day, I'm in no mood to listen to her shit.

Impulsively, I grab Justin's phone from the console and throw it into her lap. "Take it and use it but shut the fuck up."

She shakes her head in disapproval, calmly declining my offer, and places the phone in the car door accessory pocket. Justin looks so done with this day as well, so he doesn't throw a tantrum about his phone. He drives to her university and parks the car in her university dorms' driveway.

~.~.~.~.~

J A N E W O O D

Resisting the urge to scowl at the two ill-mannered guys, I stare out of the window as the objects beyond the glass move behind my peer. Keeping my jaw from quivering and my tears at bay is a real job.

Justin hasn't just broken a phone, but he has destroyed my last gift from my brother. This phone is something I have been holding very dear to my heart for years now, and Justin has broken it unapologetically within minutes. And Dragna wants me to keep my mouth shut.

A shriek escapes my throat and my head collides with the back of Justin's headrest when the car jerks because Justin hasn't bothered to not slow down at the speed bump. The moment of the car causes his phone to fall on the carpet of the car floor — very close to the door. But I don't bother picking it up, annoyed by his attitude.

Fuck him!

When the car comes to a halt, Dragna twists his neck to gaze at me. 

"Thank you, Mr. Dragna," I say softly, and he rolls my eyes in disdain, but I ignore him and open the car door before climbing out of the car.

The phone calls on the ground, which neither of the men seems to notice, and I grimace, bending to pick it up. Before I can pick the phone, the door closes in automation and the car speeds off, the engine purring in the almost empty road.

What the fuck?