Union Of Death (Secrets of The Famiglia Part 2)

I listen to Marco’s words, and snort as I leave the door, and let the two of them discuss their shit. I send Mero a message to not come back here, and tell Michel to get a car ready for tomorrow. There is no way I am handing my friend to Marco Catelli.

A quick text to an old friend and I am well on my way to getting back to my sister. This weekend is important and if all goes to plan it might be the last one, I have with her for a while. Because Papa will not be happy when he finds out what I did.

“If you think for a moment you are fooling anyone with the way you look at my man you are more stupid than you think.”

“You are hurting me Camilla. Please.” I walk in just in time to see Camilla with her claws in my sister, and Guilia’s arm twisted. Camilla’s eyes widen and she lets my sister go.

Not thinking, I march up to her and she stands her ground as I slap her across the face. She is taller than me, and dressed in a powerful suit. And then there is me,

“You are stupid thinking you can touch my sister.” She moves to slap me, but I grab her wrist mid-way, spinning her around by the same arm, I kick her with my barefoot on the crease behind her knee. She falls and makes a soft sound.

I bend down close to her ear, “I have taken men bigger than you, and dropped them just like this. Touch my sister again and I will slit your throat while Marco watches,” I push her on the floor and spit on the side of her head.

Mischa runs inside and sees Camilla on the floor, “Why is Aunt Camimi on the floor?.”

is looking for her earing sweetheart. I’m going upstairs now with my sister,

and her cheeks are so cute, I touch

it tugs at my heartstrings and reminds me so much of myself. I

is on the side of the house, if you scream,

as I get up and she giggles, “You pretty,” She says, as I stand to my full

so are you, go find

and I take my sister and move to the

room.” I leave no crumbs for argument and I have never

older than me and she has always been the one

that I have never been the kid she thought I was. I have had death on my conscious since I was 12 years old. Maybe not exactly that, but she could count

door and lock it behind me, and see her standing in

suggest you start talking,

her, “Papa wouldn’t be happy to see you crying, Filippo would be furious, and

my battles for me, you are the younger sister.” She sniffs and I let her go and take a step back, “Tutti