Repaying the Mafia’s Dept

Tristan I assumed my post in the park that connects with the clinic’s garden about an hour ago. There’s a wooden bench near a grove of Willow trees that overlooks the cafeteria. I’m too far to see inside but I was able to watch Isabella from here yesterday and the day before when she came outside for a coffee break.

Dominic’s tracker works like a charm and will be useful if I have to follow her by car, or if she goes somewhere and I lose sight of her.

It will also be useful for keeping an eye on potential openings to take her. It works by linking to her phone remotely. As long as she has her phone switched on, I can track her. When I left the house this morning he was still working on his listening device. I’m hoping he’ll have it ready sometime today.

For now, this is a good spot to watch because the park is a public place and I don’t need an excuse to be out here. The public and the patients use it alike. The clinic staff accompany the patients on walks to the lake where they mingle with everyone else who’s out there enjoying the scenery.

Although I know I can’t full well take her from here, I like observing her. Sometimes you can get to know a person by watching what they do. their mannerisms help establish personality. Everything is a tool to me and something I can use in some way.

I have a white origami flower in my hands I made out of a flyer I found stuck on the windscreen wiper of my car. It’s keeping my hands busy while I wait. Things like this stop me from going crazy. It was Dominic who taught me how to make it when we were kids.

I straighten up when the cafeteria door opens, and Isabella comes out. She’s out a little earlier than yesterday and there’s no coffee today.NôvelDrama.Org owns this.

She looks upset, and instead of stopping by the pond to feed the ducks like she did previously, she continues past the pond and rushes out to the little metal gate that comes out to the public park.

Instantly I snap to attention and look around.

Could I take her now?

Fuck, if I could it would be as smooth as smooth could be.

She’s alone, all alone, without her guards. There’s no one else around, just me and her. I’ve never seen her this far away from her guard. It would be so easy to take her.

But what next?

My car’s too far away. Pricking her with the tranq would make her go limp like she’s dead and people would notice. I could chance making up some excuse that she fainted but all I would need is her guard to see me, then the whole mission would be busted.

It’s too risky. Far too risky. We’ve come too far for me to fuck up. I’ve come too far for shit to happen.

So, I watch her.

I keep my gaze trained on her as she walks into the woods, stopping by the Willow tree furthest away from me.

She seems distressed.

I know she is when she rests her head on the thick stump and starts crying. Hard.

I may be a monster lurking in the bright morning sunlight, but fuck me, even I can tell the difference between tears of hurt and when the soul weeps. That’s what’s happening to her now. She’s not just crying.

Something grips me as I look on, watching her shoulders wrack with each sob.

I’m a motherfucking bastard. I’m about to shake up this girls life in the worse way possible. I’m going to have to kidnap her at some point soon, any woman’s nightmare, but her tears soften my heart.

Before I can register what I’m doing my legs are carrying me over to her.

Before I register it I’m there, close, right there next to her, and my presence startles her.

She whirls around to face me with her tears staining her blotchy cheeks, but what I see are those eyes that stare back at me.

I saw pictures of her, and I’ve been watching from afar but, fuck me, up close the woman has the type of beauty that truly makes you want to stare.

In my head when I imagined getting this close to her I just thought of taking her. One grab and a stick of the tranq on the back of her wrist or her neck. That was the simple version of me taking her.

Before that I imagined getting my hands on someone Mortimer loved and cutting their head off the same way he did my girl.

As I look at this woman before me, however, the sight of her distress unlocks something inside me that was once human and enables me to see someone broken.

When her soft plump lips part I’m snapped back to reality and I realize I’m just gawking at her.

“I saw you crying,” I explain and her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Oh… My… I didn’t know anyone else was out here,” she answers and tries to compose herself.

“Did someone die?” I ask.

“No.”

“Then whatever it is that happened can’t be that bad. Right?”

“I guess. But maybe somethings are worse than death.”

Her words surprise me. It’s not often I meet someone who openly shares such thoughts or feelings in such a blatant way.

“Have you ever had someone die for you?” I ask and more tears run down her cheeks.

She nods and her eyes brim with a wealth of pain. Pain that could only come from seeing some serious type of shit, and having it happen to you.

“Is the thing worse than death?” I counter.

“No…” She shakes her head.

“Then… it can’t be that bad.”

I’m aware this conversation of ours has jumped to a level not really acceptable for strangers.

She knows it too, but there’s a twinkle in her eye that sparks as she looks at me and nods her agreement.

I stare back at her taking in her presence, a million things race through my mind, but I wonder what sent her out here. What could have upset her so much for her to cry like this.

What could be worse than death?

People say some things are a worse punishment, but death is the end. For those left behind, it’s pain beyond anything anyone could describe.

“I suppose you’re right,” she replies. Her eyes go to the little origami flower in my hand and her face lights up. “What’s that?”

I raise it and offer a small smile. “Something to do.”

Her smile widens. “It’s pretty.”

Suddenly I find myself pushing my hand out to hand her the flower. “Take it. I can make another.”

“Thank you. I don’t have anything like this.”

“Now you do.”

The echo of a door has her looking back in the direction she came.

Dmitri steps out, lingers on the top step of the stairs and gazes ahead at us. The sight of him makes her back go ramrod straight. A sign she’s afraid of him, very afraid.

I bite down hard on my back teeth and hope he doesn’t come closer.

He’d recognize me straightaway. At about forty feet away, he’d never guess it was me. I have the element of not being in LA on my side and the fact there’s no way Mortimer or any of the Circle members would know the D’Agostinos are here in Rhode Island. Thankfully, he hangs back.

Isabella returns her focus to me as if remembering her manners and gives me a little smile. I can see she’s shaking though.

“I should go back to work,” she says, cautiously. “Thank you for your kindness.”

Kindness.

It’s now I should feel like a prick. I’m a fraud and I haven’t even started to wreak havoc yet. I’ve come to learn a man who can control emotion can use that as a weapon. Become immune to the principles of right and wrong. Good and evil.

You’re dangerous and effective when you wield such control. It helps in the art of manipulation.

And the art of war.

“Grazie Bellezza,” I answer back in Italian sowing the seeds of what I see twinkling in her eyes.

Attraction… it’s there.

“Thank you. Have a nice day.”

“You too.”

I watch the beauty walk away from me-the beast-rushing over to a man I’m certain is the same type of monster as me.

She looks back though. Glancing back at me before she gets to him and I see a path open wider to achieve what I must.

The next time she sees me, she’ll trust my face.

From what I saw in her eyes, the woman may come willingly, like a lamb to the slaughter. Not knowing I’m worse than the devil she knows.