It was hard to tell if hell was actually a burning place. At three in the morning, hell looked nothing like what the Bible said. It was just pitch black with phone rings and voices.[Hello? She's on her way, God.]"Good."[Should I send the soldiers to meet her?]"Don't. Wait for her to enter our territory."[God?]"He will run after her. Wait for it."...'DRIVING TO THE VILLA. Will talk to Dad. Be back tonight. Love, Margaux'A three-sentence note on the mirror, a little heart smiley, and her name written using her red lipstick were all it took for Rome's mind to melt into broken letters.He was tired, and her arms were warm, so he slept. He should not have.Who would have thought that it would take only a short while for her to slip between his fingers? Like sand seeping down and falling where she shouldn't be?'You lured her...' He blinked his eyes, trying to balance himself as he reached for her name. His fingers were trembling when they touched the cold mirror, hoping that it
MICE PLAY IN THE ABSENCE OF CATS. Same as how the envious smaller gods play in the absence of bigger gods. This part happened somewhere between sacred nights and mornings."The Montenegro child has already shown up." A young man gently pushed a pawn across the chessboard. Then, stopping his move right next to the White Queen, he settled the piece and looked up at his competitor."Oh, she did?" His playmate, an older man in his seventies, countered that move by moving the White Queen to eliminate the pawn.That made the young man chuckle. Languidly, he pressed his back against the leather seat he was sitting on. "Yes, Papa. The soldiers found her.""Molto bien..." Satisfaction flooded the old man's voice. He mirrored what his son did. He stretched his back and relaxed, grabbing the wine glass on the table. One sip, and he then asked, "How about God? Did he already show up?""Not yet, papa," the younger man answered, giving his father a brief look before gazing back at the chessboard. "
THE VILLA WAS BUZZING at five in the morning. The scent of food combined with flowers was lingering in the air. The tables—hundreds of them—were carefully wrapped in meticulous white linens. The maids were like bees running back and forth, carrying plates and silverware. Violinists, called out at the most unholy time of the day, were cramming to learn the best and most beautiful music they would ever play: the Alla Mia Amata."You missed the timing; it would mean something different." The Don was in the middle of the crowd, looking down at the poor violinist."S-señor?""It's for my son. Perfect it," he ordered in a cold voice. His amber eyes were piercing, silently warning the musician to get the proper tempo or else it would be the last piece he would play. "You have to perfect it," he gritted, making the musician's knee shake at once with the terror that engulfed him."Y-Yes, señor." The musician barely opened his mouth, reaching for the paper before him to read the complicated n
"MARGAUX..."Alberta's voice didn't reach her ears when the now-familiar stab crushed her nerves again. Automatically, her hand found the back of her hips, trying to keep them from splitting in two. The drop of sweat that fell on her fist, resting on her lap, looked blurry. Her tummy was in pain—so much pain that she had to burst out of breath to stop herself from groaning."Are you alright?""Are you done talking?" She tightly closed her eyes. She saw double, and it was the last thing she needed."I said, I'm sorry."She didn't reply. She understood what the old woman, kneeling and crying before her, was saying, but then it just wouldn't entirely register with her. More so when everything in her mind was Rome and him alone. All she remembered was that Alberta mentioned something like 'the Don's son and mother.' Or was it mother that she said?Whatever it was, she felt her heart crunch painfully hearing it, but not half as much as the one she was trying to tolerate while sitting there
It was the worst battle he had fought. A war where he couldn't tell who was with him and who wasn't. A battle where he had to keep firing his gun while holding his cara and staring death in the face simultaneously.He lost count of the number of bullets his body took for her. His whole body was numbing, but then he just couldn't let go.His mind was empty, unable to recognize who his enemies were. Alejandro's soldiers were fighting like a group of hungry beasts. The group that broke through the gate minutes ago, which he had recognized as Marco's, was just as ferocious.He noticed one of the groups protecting him when he rushed to the parking lot. Some of its soldiers caught bullets for him, willingly giving their lives to assure that he would get where he needed to.He was in so much pain. But it wasn't because of the random bullets digging into his flesh. He knew that pain so well. It wasn't for him, but for Margaux. It was for the child barely holding on inside her.The whole world
The sun was soft as it shone over Reiti, Paso, Italy. Just like all the good days inside that villa, the gentle waves hitting the shore could be seen from where the Don sat. The mild breeze was playing with his hair as he silently sipped his wine. Soft white curtains were swaying on every open window too, making them look as if they were dancing peacefully with the mild tune he was humming. Alla mia Amata, of course."Papa?"Alejandro pretended not to see the tiny boy climbing on his lap. Instead, he covered his face harder with the newspaper in his hands, as if he were busy reading it. Nonetheless, his senses were at full alert, and he discreetly lowered one of his legs down to make sure that the child would have something to grab on to and wouldn't fall. Only God could describe how the child's mother turned into a monster whenever the child got hurt."Papa...""I'm reading, Romano," he said, dragging the child's name, copying how the baby dragged his. "Lots of news lately that could
MARGAUX ALMOST KISSED THE FLOOR AFTER HER HIGH HEELS BROKE. Her mind began cursing from A to Z, regretting why she even chose to wear that pair. She kicked off her heels and watched them glide across the floor a few inches. Getting to the Montenegro Group's offices had already been a nightmare: a late flight, a long commute, and adverse weather. She even thought God was drunk when he created Manila. Who, in his right mind, would build a civilization in a country with bipolar weather in the first place? Sweaty and exhausted, it took Margaux one more eye-roll to get over her shoes. With her lips tightly pressed together, she picked up the high heels again and let them dangle in her hand. She continued to drag her bags down the marble corridor, passing gigantic artworks one after the other. ‘What the... Where’s everyone?’ she asked herself, realizing how hollow that floor was. Other than a single guard outside the building, it was odd that none of their employees were around at all. Sh
MARGAUX WAS SILENT AS SHE SIT IN THE LOBBY ALONE. She was too absorbed in her thoughts while playing footsie with her broken shoes. There were hundreds of questions inside her head, and the worst of them was about what happened just hours ago.Everything came in a rush. The bloody, amber-eyed man passed out, and then things went out of control.She was scared for her life at first, but that changed when she heard his faltering breath. In an instant, she knew that he was dying.She couldn't remember how she managed to push his weight off her before she ran down to the guardhouse. She was shaking when she undressed him inside the company's car. Especially when she checked on his wounds and attempted to stop them from bleeding. He was shot twice.‘Undress him...’ She shook her head when his half-naked image crossed her mind. She then reached down to her calves and began messaging them. She couldn’t just sit there and admire a dying man, right? That’s too awkward."Miss?"A woman's voice
The sun was soft as it shone over Reiti, Paso, Italy. Just like all the good days inside that villa, the gentle waves hitting the shore could be seen from where the Don sat. The mild breeze was playing with his hair as he silently sipped his wine. Soft white curtains were swaying on every open window too, making them look as if they were dancing peacefully with the mild tune he was humming. Alla mia Amata, of course."Papa?"Alejandro pretended not to see the tiny boy climbing on his lap. Instead, he covered his face harder with the newspaper in his hands, as if he were busy reading it. Nonetheless, his senses were at full alert, and he discreetly lowered one of his legs down to make sure that the child would have something to grab on to and wouldn't fall. Only God could describe how the child's mother turned into a monster whenever the child got hurt."Papa...""I'm reading, Romano," he said, dragging the child's name, copying how the baby dragged his. "Lots of news lately that could
It was the worst battle he had fought. A war where he couldn't tell who was with him and who wasn't. A battle where he had to keep firing his gun while holding his cara and staring death in the face simultaneously.He lost count of the number of bullets his body took for her. His whole body was numbing, but then he just couldn't let go.His mind was empty, unable to recognize who his enemies were. Alejandro's soldiers were fighting like a group of hungry beasts. The group that broke through the gate minutes ago, which he had recognized as Marco's, was just as ferocious.He noticed one of the groups protecting him when he rushed to the parking lot. Some of its soldiers caught bullets for him, willingly giving their lives to assure that he would get where he needed to.He was in so much pain. But it wasn't because of the random bullets digging into his flesh. He knew that pain so well. It wasn't for him, but for Margaux. It was for the child barely holding on inside her.The whole world
"MARGAUX..."Alberta's voice didn't reach her ears when the now-familiar stab crushed her nerves again. Automatically, her hand found the back of her hips, trying to keep them from splitting in two. The drop of sweat that fell on her fist, resting on her lap, looked blurry. Her tummy was in pain—so much pain that she had to burst out of breath to stop herself from groaning."Are you alright?""Are you done talking?" She tightly closed her eyes. She saw double, and it was the last thing she needed."I said, I'm sorry."She didn't reply. She understood what the old woman, kneeling and crying before her, was saying, but then it just wouldn't entirely register with her. More so when everything in her mind was Rome and him alone. All she remembered was that Alberta mentioned something like 'the Don's son and mother.' Or was it mother that she said?Whatever it was, she felt her heart crunch painfully hearing it, but not half as much as the one she was trying to tolerate while sitting there
THE VILLA WAS BUZZING at five in the morning. The scent of food combined with flowers was lingering in the air. The tables—hundreds of them—were carefully wrapped in meticulous white linens. The maids were like bees running back and forth, carrying plates and silverware. Violinists, called out at the most unholy time of the day, were cramming to learn the best and most beautiful music they would ever play: the Alla Mia Amata."You missed the timing; it would mean something different." The Don was in the middle of the crowd, looking down at the poor violinist."S-señor?""It's for my son. Perfect it," he ordered in a cold voice. His amber eyes were piercing, silently warning the musician to get the proper tempo or else it would be the last piece he would play. "You have to perfect it," he gritted, making the musician's knee shake at once with the terror that engulfed him."Y-Yes, señor." The musician barely opened his mouth, reaching for the paper before him to read the complicated n
MICE PLAY IN THE ABSENCE OF CATS. Same as how the envious smaller gods play in the absence of bigger gods. This part happened somewhere between sacred nights and mornings."The Montenegro child has already shown up." A young man gently pushed a pawn across the chessboard. Then, stopping his move right next to the White Queen, he settled the piece and looked up at his competitor."Oh, she did?" His playmate, an older man in his seventies, countered that move by moving the White Queen to eliminate the pawn.That made the young man chuckle. Languidly, he pressed his back against the leather seat he was sitting on. "Yes, Papa. The soldiers found her.""Molto bien..." Satisfaction flooded the old man's voice. He mirrored what his son did. He stretched his back and relaxed, grabbing the wine glass on the table. One sip, and he then asked, "How about God? Did he already show up?""Not yet, papa," the younger man answered, giving his father a brief look before gazing back at the chessboard. "
It was hard to tell if hell was actually a burning place. At three in the morning, hell looked nothing like what the Bible said. It was just pitch black with phone rings and voices.[Hello? She's on her way, God.]"Good."[Should I send the soldiers to meet her?]"Don't. Wait for her to enter our territory."[God?]"He will run after her. Wait for it."...'DRIVING TO THE VILLA. Will talk to Dad. Be back tonight. Love, Margaux'A three-sentence note on the mirror, a little heart smiley, and her name written using her red lipstick were all it took for Rome's mind to melt into broken letters.He was tired, and her arms were warm, so he slept. He should not have.Who would have thought that it would take only a short while for her to slip between his fingers? Like sand seeping down and falling where she shouldn't be?'You lured her...' He blinked his eyes, trying to balance himself as he reached for her name. His fingers were trembling when they touched the cold mirror, hoping that it
DARKNESS.Not a single drop of light illuminated the heavens that night—not the moon or even a single star. There was nothing except for silent voices talking in pitch-black."He saw us watching him, didn't he?"[He is smarter than I expect, God.]"Of course, he is!" Pride dripped from that unknown voice as the speaker chuckled. "He is the one and only Romano, after all."[Okay... So what's your next order?]"Drag them back." The god yawned, sounding a bit bored, before adding, "Make sure that the Amati is there once I come..."...ALBERTA WAS CALLING...No, it was better to say that she was bombarding Margaux with her calls. Hundreds of them in the past twelve hours. Nonstop.'Should I tell Rome?' Lifting her eyes from the vibrating phone on her hand, she looked up and scanned the unfamiliar room before her—unpainted walls, grey, and way less colorful than the skin of its late owner, Tat."Why are you just staying there? Why don't you come here?"She jerked upon hearing the man sit
GOD WAS MOVING. He was moving his chess pieces so accurately, and no one could tell what was next."Burn it," he ordered before sipping wine from his glass. His voice was calm, just like the wide ocean before him. Santorini mornings had always been perfect anyway, more so, his mansion there. Whitewashed houses line the most beautiful mountain in the world, meeting the blue Aegean waters as they calmly hit the shore.It was heaven with a demon living in it."Burn it down and..." the God chuckled while letting the sweet breeze mess with his graying hair. "... break his other leg. Make sure that he wouldn't have anywhere else to go."...'Cazzata!'Rome's cuss remained unspoken as he watched his headquarters, 'The Romans', burn through nine different TV screens. Thick, dark smoke was rising from the same building he had worked so hard for. From the aerial shot taken by the news channel, he could see the showcase of his bar getting licked by fire. His people were screaming and getting t
"I want to see you both in that dress, Cara."Rome felt his chest tighten just by calling her. Could he tell her what was pressing him down on that bed? Or could he at least tell her what was choking him while begging her to wear that dress again? He hoped he could. "Please...""I-I don't have that dress anymore."'This is horrible...' He closed his eyes. Finally finding the energy to move his head. He opened his eyes again and looked at her. He saw Margaux looking back at him over her beautiful shoulder. His gaze then glided down her back, mingling a bit longer on the hollow of her spine, before settling on her hips.Involuntarily, the corner of his lips lifted, although that smile didn't reach his sad amber eyes. 'My baby's growing fast.'"Stop smiling like that while staring at my butt, Caro."Margaux's irritated voice aired, forcing him to look up at her face. The same beautiful face he would love to kiss the rest of his life if he were lucky enough to have some more time left.'L