The Mafia's Mercy
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The darkness in his eyes, the dangerous smell of alcohol in his breath, and his deathly grip keeping me bound to him made my heart pound in my chest and my body quiver beneath him. Shamefully, it wasn't anything that I wasn't used to, because…the things I let him do to me? When he was frustrated, annoyed, and angry at the world, I was here to be his pound of flesh. In return, he masked the void of my loneliness because for months, that was the transaction of our relationship. He'd pin me to the wall, bend me over the counter, pull my hair, slap me, choke me, and I enjoyed every second of it because in that moment, it finally felt good to be powerless. Irony is a funny thing. I enjoyed being in pain because it made me forget how much I was hurting. *** "I warned you, doll." His voice strikes a string of chills down the base of my spine, a reminder that all of the time in the world could pass, and he's still not letting go. This is where the good girl in me dies. "You're mine now," he whispers. *** My name is Mercy—Mercy Carter. I went to college. Got myself a useless Bachelor of Science in Mathematics degree. His name is Marcel—Marcello Saldívar. However, at the time, I didn't know that he, the heir to the Saldívar Mafia empire, was the man that I had blindly offered myself to. As smart as I am, I was stupid all the times when it actually mattered. After all, he did warn me he was dangerous. I just didn't think he could be much worse than my thug brother. I was vulnerable—naive. I belong to him. My name is Mercy, and I am the Mafia's Mercy.
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The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 7.5 ⊱ Her Sacrifice
⊰ Marcel ⊱ The sound of the gunshot echoes through the empty warehouse, reverberating off the metal walls. The man before me slumps to the ground, a neat hole in the center of his forehead, eyes wide and unseeing. The acrid smell of gunpowder fills my nostrils as I lower my weapon, a sense of grim satisfaction settling in my chest. It’s done. I turn to Rick and Frank, both standing a few feet away, their own guns still trained on the other two men kneeling on the cold concrete floor. They’re beaten and bloody, faces swollen from the hours of interrogation carried out at the hands of my men. “Take care of them,” I command, my voice flat and emotionless. Rick nods, his expression hard as he steps forward, pressing the barrel of his gun against the back of one of the men’s heads. I don’t stay to watch. I’ve seen enough death for one day. Instead, I holster my gun and make my way out of the warehouse, the sound of two mor
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 7 ⊱ Amidst a World of Darkness
The drive back from the cake and food tasting is quiet, the hum of the car’s engine filling the silence between Valentina, Alessandra, and me. I lean my head against the window, watching the city blur past us as my mind wanders to the events of the day. It’s been…a lot. From the bridal boutique to the endless samples of cakes and hors d’oeuvers, my social battery is drained, I’m stuffed, and I’m half a breath away fromthe itis. I wanna take a nap. The weight of the impending wedding settles heavily on my shoulders, and I can’t help but feel like I’m being swept away by a current I can’t control. Valentina and Alessandra chatter in the front seat, the incessant discussion of the merits of vanilla versus chocolate giving me a headache. I tune them out, their voices fading into the background as my thoughts drift to Marcel. I haven’t seen him since this morning, and a part of me aches for his presence, for the comfort and stabilit
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 6 ⊱ Bound by Fate
Sitting in the back of Guillermo’s infamous black SUV, I ball my hands into loose fists on my lap as my gaze traces the all too familiar countryside blurring past us. Somehow, even though I’m in a car with two other people, the empty seat beside me only serves to remind me of the shitty turn my day has taken. This is ass. Just a few minutes ago, I was standing in the main entrance hall, stupid enough to think that I was about to be free after the awkward breakfast with Marcel’s family. Valentina had spent the entire meal scolding Marcel for getting mepregnantout of wedlock, while also assuring me it wasn’t my fault. “Saldívar men are womanizers,” she said with a knowing look on her face. The entire time, Marcel was biting his lip, trying not to laugh while Guillermo’s piercing gaze never left me. Despite the uneasiness twisting in my gut, being by Marcel’s side offered me a sense of comfort. Then, just when I thought I wa
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 5 ⊱ Flicker of Doubt
The warm water cascades over my body as I stand in the shower, lost in thought. Before I made my way up to my bedroom, Guillermo, Valentina, Santiago, and Alessandra stopped by to see Levi. As soon as I heard them coming through the front door, I took the opportunity to excuse myself from the room, not wanting to be in the same room as them unless otherwise necessary. Now, as the steam wafts from my body, I can’t escape my seemingly restless mind. I haven’t seen Marcel since last night, and my mind keeps drifting back to the revelation of Levi’s secret family. Why didn’t he tell me about them before? Why keep something so important a secret from me? After everything we’ve been through, I thought we could trust each other. Unfortunately, thus far, all I’ve learned is that while I may trust him, for some reason, he doesn’t feel the same way, and I can’t help but feel like our relationship isn’t a truly reciprocal one. Without even realizing it,
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 4.5 ⊱ She Will Be Loved
⊰ Marcel ⊱ As I sit in the parlor, my gaze drifts to Mercy’s sleeping form on the couch. She’s curled up beneath a blanket, her head resting on a cushion, her face still bearing the traces of the tears she shed before she fell asleep. She refused to go to bed, and given the circumstances, I didn’t have the heart totryto force her to. How could I, when her world is crumbling around her? It’s been a few hours since my medical team arrived, and the wait has been agonizing. Every minute feels like an eternity, the silence broken only by the distant sounds of the doctors working to save Levi’s life. My mind wanders, replaying the events of just a couple of hours ago, the fear in Mercy’s eyes, the desperation in her voice as she pleaded with me to pray for her brother. Levi. The man who took care of her for the better part of a decade—her protector. I’ve seen the bond they share, the depth of their love
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 4 ⊱ Clinging onto Faith: Part 3
As I pull into the driveway of Marcel’s mansion, my heart is pounding in my chest, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. My hands shake, barely able to keep the car steady as I drive through the already opened gates, somehow managing to bring it to a stop. Through the haze of my panic, I see Marcel, Frank, Rick, Miguel, and a few other men I don’t recognize standing outside the house—their faces tense and rigid. I hardly register parking the car before I’m scrabbling at my seatbelt, my fingers fumbling with the release button. After what feels like an eternity, I finally hear the click, and I practically rip it off, the rough fabric scraping against my neck. I reach over to Levi, my hands trembling as I try to undo his seatbelt. “Levi?” I call out, my voice cracking with fear. “Levi, we’re here. We’re at Marcel’s.” But he doesn’t respond. His head is slumped against the window, his eyes closed, and his face is frighteningly pale beneath the dark red of the
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 3 ⊱ My Brother's Sacrifice: Part 2
I throw my head back, laughing as I remind Levi of the time he tried to make me breakfast in bed for my 15th birthday and nearly burned down the kitchen. “Remember how the smoke alarm went off and you were running around like a headless chicken, trying to air out the house before I woke up?” I tease him, tears gathering at the corners of my eyes. He shakes his head, chuckling as he takes a sip of his Coke. “Yeah, well, I never said I was a fucking chef,” he retorts, a grin playing on his lips. On a picnic table, we sit side by side, in the parking lot of a food truck lot. The remnants of our taco feast lay scattered on the white paper plates before us, the scent of cilantro and lime lingering in the air. It’s all too familiar, a reminiscence of the countless nights we spent together, just me and him, trying to figure out how to live a world without our parents. And that’s why I did all the cooking. “You know,” he says, his voice tinge
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 2 ⊱ Taste of Nostalgia: Part 1
As Marcel’s hand shifts from my breast, slipping out from under my shirt, my face flushes, burning a hot red. My gaze still locked on Levi, the urge to want to hide myself under the pool table as Marcel’s touch leaves me grows by the second. Despite the interruption, he doesn’t back away, my back still pressed against him as he remains close, his possessive nature never wavering.I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until I snap my head forward, feeling myself sink deeper into the black hole of my embarrassment. It’s like I’m 18 again, only this time, the modification is tenfold. Being caught in the middle of a heated, full on make-out session with my…Marcelis a new level of humiliation.There goes my dignity.In the next moment, Marcel reaches for the glass and cigar he’d set down on the pool table and steps back, away from me. Without a word, he moves toward the parlor’s door
The Mafia's Mercy S2 ⊰ 1 ⊱ A Different Kind of Strength
I stand before the mirror in my bedroom, staring at my reflection as my mind wanders elsewhere. The car ride backhomewas silent, the weight of everything that had happened looming in the air like an airborne sickness. The light humming of the air brushing against the SUV as Rick drove us down the empty country road offered a semblance of relief, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, the worst had been left at that hilltop where we parted ways with Guillermo, his men, Levi, and Santiago. Unfortunately, whoever’s writing my story has a pretty fucking sick sense of humor, always finding a way to pull the rug out from under me just when I think I’ve found my footing. As the adrenaline began to fade, the reality of my situation came crashing down on me. Nausea hit me like a tidal wave, a sickening twist in my stomach that I couldn’t ignore. My voice was low and strained as I said, “Stop the car.” Marcel looked over at me, concern e
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