THE MAFIA'S GREATEST OBSESSION - CHAPTER 7&8
Vincent’s small hands gently rested on his mother’s swollen belly, his wide grey eyes filled with innocent curiosity. “She’s gonna be big like me when she’s born?” he asked, his voice soft and hopeful.
His mother smiled, brushing a hand tenderly through his hair. “No, darling… she’ll be very small at first.”
Vincent frowned, his young mind struggling to grasp the concept. “So how would I play with her then?” His frown deepened, the corners of his mouth pulling down in frustration.
His mother chuckled, the sound warm and soothing, as she continued to stroke his hair. “She’ll grow, baby. Just like you did.”
Vincent’s gaze shifted to his mom’s large belly, his small fingers tracing the curve with fascination. He had always wondered where babies came from, and his mother had told him they were sent from heaven. But now, with a new sibling on the way, his curiosity was insatiable.
“How’s she gonna come out from your stomach?” he asked, looking up at her with those big, questioning eyes.
His mother hesitated for a moment, then offered a gentle explanation. “Well, I’ll go to the hospital, and the doctors will help bring her out of my stomach.”
Vincent’s eyes widened in surprise. “Is it gonna hurt?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.
“A little bit,” his mother admitted, her tone reassuring. “But I’ll bear it, just like I did when you were born.”
Vincent smiled, admiration shining in his eyes. “You’re like Superman then,” he murmured, causing his mother to burst out laughing, her laughter filling the room with warmth.
“Time to sleep, baby,” she said softly, the laughter fading into a tender command.
“Okay, Mom,” Vincent replied, resting his head on her chest, seeking the comfort and security he always found there. He had always been a mommy’s boy, finding peace in the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.
“Sleep, baby,” she whispered, her hand still stroking his hair. He cuddled closer, sinking into the warmth of her embrace.
“I love you,” she murmured, her voice filled with the depth of a mother’s love.
“I love you too, Mom,” Vincent echoed, his voice drowsy and content as he finally dozed off, his dreams filled with the warmth and safety of his mother’s love.
Vincent woke with a start, his heart pounding in his small chest. A loud bang echoed through the house, shattering the peaceful silence of the night. He sat up quickly, his young mind racing with fear and confusion. “Mom?” he called out, his voice trembling in the darkness. But there was no response.
Panic surged through him as he scrambled out of bed, his feet barely touching the floor as he raced towards the door. The hallway was eerily quiet, the only sound the rapid thumping of his own heartbeat. “Mom?” he called again, his voice barely above a whisper now. Still, there was no answer.
Vincent crept down the stairs, the darkness pressing in around him. As he reached the bottom, his breath caught in his throat. There, in the dim light of the living room, he saw them—five men dressed in black, each one holding a gun.
Fear gripped him, and he quickly ducked behind the dining table, his small body trembling with terror. His eyes, wide with horror, scanned the room until they landed on his mother. She was lying on the ground, her hand clutching her stomach, blood pooling around her. Vincent gasped, his small hands covering his mouth to stifle the cry that thr_@tened to escape.
Who were these men? Why was his mother on the ground? His young mind couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening, but he knew it was bad—really bad. His gaze flickered to his father, who was also lying motionless on the floor, his body limp and lifeless. Beside him was his older sister, her eyes closed as if she were just sleeping, but deep down, Vincent knew that wasn’t the case.
“I gave you two years to pay your debt, but still, you kept me waiting,” one of the men said, his voice cold and unforgiving as he stood over Vincent’s father. The words sent a chill down Vincent’s spine. He didn’t understand what debt the man was talking about, but he could feel the weight of the thr_@t in his voice.
Vincent peeked out from behind the table, trying to stay as quiet as possible. His small heart was pounding so hard it hurt. Suddenly, one of the men shifted, and his mask slipped, revealing his face. Vincent stared, his wide eyes locking onto the man’s features, committing them to memory despite the terror that filled him. The man quickly adjusted his mask, but it was too late—Vincent had seen him.
After what felt like an eternity, the men finally left, their heavy footsteps fading into the night. Vincent waited, his small body frozen in fear, until he was sure they were gone. Then, with tears streaming down his cheeks, he bolted from his hiding place and ran to his mother.
“Mom!” he cried, dropping to his knees beside her. He reached out, his hands trembling as he touched her face. “Mom, wake up, please!”
His mother’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him with pain and sorrow. “Vincent…” she whispered, her voice weak, barely audible. She reached out, her hand shaking as she touched his face.
“Mom, don’t leave me,” Vincent sobbed, clutching her hand. “Please, don’t go.”
Her breathing was labored, and Vincent could see the life draining out of her. “Listen to me, baby,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “You need to call… your uncle. Tell him… to come and get you.”
Vincent nodded, tears blurring his vision. “But I don’t want to leave you,” he cried, his heart breaking as he watched the light in his mother’s eyes slowly fade.
“You have to… be strong, Vincent,” she whispered, her hand slipping from his cheek. “I love you… so much.”
“Mom, please,” Vincent begged, his voice shaking. But it was too late. Her hand fell limp, her eyes staring blankly into the darkness. She was gone.
Vincent collapsed on top of her, his small body wracked with sobs. He cried until his throat was raw, his heart shattered by the loss of his family. He had seen too much, too soon, and he knew his life would never be the same again.
~~
Vincent’s smile widened as he admired the set of guns laid out before him. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous excitement that sent a shiver through the room.
“This one runs faster, boss,” Lipari said, handing Vincent a sleek, polished gun.
Vincent took it, running his fingers along the cool metal with an appreciative nod. “I like the texture,” he murmured, bringing the gun closer to his nose and inhaling deeply. A chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Surprisingly smells good too.”
His men exchanged glances, chuckling along with him, but there was a nervous edge to their laughter. They knew better than to misread Vincent’s mood.
“I like it,” Vincent repeated, his grin growing more menacing by the second. The room fell silent, waiting for his next move.
“Boss,” Bellamy said as he entered the room, his tone cautious but laced with urgency.
Vincent’s smile widened even more. He loved when Bellamy entered the room—it meant news, and Vincent had a particular fondness for news, whether good or bad.
“What’s the news, Bellamy?” Vincent asked, his eyes not leaving the gun in his hand.
Bellamy hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Your uncle is pissed,” he began, but Vincent held up a hand to stop him.
“I’ll correct you for the last time, Bellamy,” Vincent said, his voice dangerously soft.
Bellamy’s head bowed slightly in submission. “I’m sorry, boss,” he murmured.
“Adone is pissed, and he said he’s going to come for you,” Bellamy corrected himself, his voice firmer now.
Vincent burst out laughing, the sound echoing off the walls. It was a laugh devoid of any real humor, chilling in its intensity. “He should come,” Vincent said, still laughing. “I’m going to teach him a lesson.”
He sighed contentedly, as if the thought of dealing with Adone brought him a deep sense of pleasure. His eyes drifted back to Lipari.
“Lipari,” he called.
“Yes, boss?” Lipari responded immediately, his posture straightening.
“Give me Miss Escobar’s location,” Vincent said, his smirk widening into something darker, more dangerous. “I would love to see my pet.”
~~
Vincent sat in the VIP section of the club, his mood darkening with every passing second. The throbbing music and low lighting did little to quell the annoyance building inside of him. Women fluttered around him, trying to catch his attention, but he barely spared them a glance. His smile turned icily when one particularly brazen girl attempted to reach for him.
“Touch me, and I’ll $h00t you,” he said, his voice laced with a dangerous calm. The girl recoiled instantly, backing away with wide eyes.
Vincent waved a hand dismissively, signaling one of his men. “Send for Miss Escobar,” he ordered, his gaze narrowing as he watched his man approach Eloise across the room. He could see the resistance in her body language, the way she stiffened and tried to argue, but eventually, she relented.
When she finally appeared before him, Vincent’s smile widened at her obvious discomfort, a thrill of amusement coursing through him as she glared at him with fiery defiance.
“Can you leave me alone?” Eloise demanded, her voice sharp with irritation.
Vincent chuckled, enjoying her frustration. “You’re bipolar,” she shot at him, clearly hoping to provoke some sort of reaction. But her words only made him laugh harder, the sound rich with condescension.
“Come sit here, Miss Escobar,” he said, gesturing to the seat beside him. Her frown deepened in response.
“It’s Eloise,” she corrected him, her tone dripping with annoyance.
His laughter stopped abruptly, his eyes darkening. “Do not make me repeat myself, Miss Escobar,” he said, his smile remaining but with a menacing edge that made her hesitate. She sat beside him hesitantly, her posture stiff with tension.
“I’m so going to tell my Daddy about all this,” she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with a mix of anger and frustration.
Vincent chuckled again, shaking his head. “You always seem to amuse me, Princessa,” he said, his tone mocking.
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, her eyes blazing with indignation.
Vincent leaned closer, his smile widening into a smirk. “Hm… So what are you going to offer, now that you’re privileged to be my pet?” he asked, his voice silky smooth.
“Nothing,” she replied, her defiance unwavering despite the unease flickering in her eyes.
His laugh was slow, calculated, as he held her gaze. “What if…” he began, his voice dropping to a low, almost predatory tone, “What if you suck my ?ï?k now?”
TBC