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⊰ 2 ⊱ The Price of Loyalty: Part 2
Sam’s expression doesn’t waver, his gaze steady as he leans back in his chair. “I told you, Mrs. Saldívar. Your husband sent me.”
I shake my head, my heart racing. “No. No, that doesn’t make any sense. Why would you want me to tell them everything? Isn’t that the opposite of what you’re supposed to do?”
A small smirk plays at the corner of Sam’s mouth. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. With a few taps, he slides it across the table to me. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
I stare at the phone for a moment, hesitating. Then, with a shaky hand, I pick it up, bringing it to my ear. “H-hello?”
“Mercy.” Marcel’s deep and familiar voice resonates through the small speaker, washing over me. “Are you okay?”
At the sound of his voice, something inside me breaks. “No!” I cry, the tears I’ve been holding back finally spilling over. “No, I’m not okay! Marcel, they have Levi. They’re saying they’ll put him away. And they
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The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 3 ⊱ The Lies We Tell
The leather seat squeaks as I shift, the only sound breaking the heavy silence through the suffocating tension in the air as we speed down the highway. I sit in the back seat, my hands clasped tightly in my lap as I watch Marcel out of the corner of my eye. He sits beside me, exuding an air of restraint, his features tight and his gaze intense. In the front seats, Rick and Frank sit rigidly, their eyes fixed straight ahead. They had been waiting for me outside the detention center, ushering me into the car as Marcel spoke with Sam before he walked back into the building, likely to tend to Levi’s situation. Marcel hasn’t said anything. Not about what happened with me and not about Levi, and frankly, I can’t take the silence anymore. “What’s going to happen to Levi?” I ask, my voice small. Marcel doesn’t look at me, his gaze fixed on his phone as he texts God knows who. “I’m taking care of it,” he says, his tone clipped. Why does he seem so
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 4 ⊱ Chocolate and Confessions
The warm glow of the twinkle lights casts a soft ambiance over my study—the room Marcel had set up just for me 8 months ago. It’s a cozy haven where I can lose myself in my studies and find a moment’s peace. The beige couch and chaise are welcoming, the pastel yellow rug at the center of the room adding a touch of warmth beneath the wooden coffee table. My favorite books line the shelves on the wall, tying the room together perfectly. I’ve been here for hours, pouring over textbooks and assignments, trying to distract myself from the lingering tension of yesterday’s confrontation with Marcel. But even as I sit at the small desk, the warm light of the study lamp illuminating the keyboard of my laptop, I can’t seem to focus. Maybe I should just call it a day. With a sigh, I close my laptop, the weight of mental exhaustion settling over me. I push back from the desk, my swivel chair squeaking softly as I stand and stretch my tired muscles. The gentle mu
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 5 ⊱ Unraveling Before Him: Part 1
As I step out of the bathroom, the warm bath having soothed my tired muscles, I pause, adjusting the towel wrapped snugly around my body. My hair is piled atop in a messy bun, a few stray strands kissing my neck. The sound of incessant buzzing draws my attention, and I turn to see Marcel’s phone vibrating against the coffee table. He’s back? My gaze flickers to the sofa across from it, seeing Marcel sitting there, a glass of scotch in hand and brows furrowed in evident frustration. With an irritated sigh, he snatches up the phone, silences it, and tosses it back onto the table, the device skittering across the polished wood. And in a bad mood. Great. I watch him for a moment, taking in the tension that seems to radiate off him in waves. Alessandra’s earlier words echo in my mind, her insistence that what Marcel and I need is to reconnect. To reconnect his penis with my vagina. I blink at the memory,
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 6 ⊱ Home: Part 2
I stare at Marcel, my heart pounding in my chest as I fight the overwhelming urge to give in, to go back to him and lose myself in his touch, in his kisses. The desire to be with him, to feel his skin against mine, is almost too much to bear. But I stand my ground, knowing we can’t keep avoiding the issues that keep pushing me away from him. After a long moment, he senses my resolve, his features hardening to a stern look as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze intent on me. “Alright, doll,” he says softly, his voice low and earnest. “Let’s talk.” I eye him for a moment, steeling myself before I finally begin. “Yesterday, with the ATF… I wasn’t trying to be brave or noble just for the sake of it. I was just… I was terrified, and so I figured if I didn’t completely fold within the first five seconds I wouldn’t seem so…weak.” His gaze sharpens, his brow furrowing with concern. “You’re not weak, Mercy. You were scared, rightfully. But terr
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 6.5 ⊱ Weapon of War
⊰ Marcel ⊱ The tension in the conference room is dense as I lean back in my chair, my gaze sweeping over the faces gathered around the table. Rick stands at the front, a stack of papers in his hand and a stern look on his face. “Word on the street is that Luciano is looking for a newvendorto distribute his product,” he says, his voice low and serious. “With us cutting off his transportation, he’s getting desperate.” I nod, a sense of satisfaction settling in my chest. It’s been a long, hard battle, but we’re finally starting to make some headway against the Reyes cartel. Luciano. A burning desire for vengeance has been consuming me since the day he laid hands on Mercy. The memory of her broken and bleeding, the child we created together ripped away from us… it’s a wound that will never heal. And Catalina, the venomous bitch who branded my wife like cattle, who scarred her beautiful skin… I want th
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 7 ⊱ A Dangerous Game
I lean back in my chair, my eyes fixed on the laptop screen as my fingers fly over the keyboard. The words flow effortlessly, the ideas for my dissertation project taking shape with each passing minute. I’m so engrossed in my work that I almost don’t hear the knock on the door. “Come in!” I call out, my gaze still glued to the screen. The door opens, and I glance up to see Frank standing in the doorway, his expression as stoic as ever. “Ma’am,” he greets me with a nod. “Marcel wants to see you in the conference room.” I tilt my head, curious. It’s not often that Marcel summons meanywhere, especially to the conference room, and certainly not in the middle of the day like this. “Did he say why?” I ask, already making sure my document has auto-saved and closing the laptop. Frank shakes his head. “No, ma’am. Just that he needs you there.” Intrigued, I follow him out of my study and through the halls, my mind racing w
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 8 ⊱ More Than Calculations
I lean back in my chair, rubbing my tired eyes as I stare at the complex equations sprawled across the computer screen. It’s been a week since I agreed to help Ben and Pablo with the nano-drone project, and while the excitement of being part of something so groundbreaking still thrums through my veins, I can’t deny the toll it’s starting to take on me. Between my studies, my dissertation, and the long hours in the lab, I’m beginning to feel stretched thin. The days seem to blur together, a never-ending cycle of coffee, calculations, and the soft glow of computer screens. Am I in over my head? The thought lingers in the back of my mind as I watch Ben stand up from his workstation, stretching his arms above his head with a groan. “Anyone else ready for a lunch break?” he asks, glancing between Pablo and me. Pablo nods, pushing back from his own desk. “I could go for a burger. There’s a great little joint just a couple of miles down the road. Y’
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 9 ⊱ Damned in Black and White
The fluorescent lights of the campus bathroom flicker overhead as I stand at the sink, splashing cold water on my face. My head is pounding, a dull ache that’s been building behind my eyes since I finished the second round of midterm exams for the semester, just a few minutes ago. I know I should find Frank and head home, but right now, all I want is a moment of peace to myself. I need a nap. As I pat my face dry with a paper towel, I hear the sound of the door opening behind me. Glancing up, I see a woman entering, her curly blonde hair framing her face, her brown eyes sharp and assessing. Her tailored suit screams “government agent”, and immediately, my guard goes up, my heart rate rising as memories of my recent run-in with the ATF flood my mind. Please, not again… I think with desperation, anxiety washing over me as I toss the paper towel in the trash and move towards the door. I can’t do this again. But
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The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 24.5 | 2 ⊱ Shelter
