The highway stretched across the Roman landscape like serpent, its asphalt body glistened under the soft glow of the overhead lighting. The city's nocturnal energy was evident, as the highway pulsed with the rhythmic buzz of engines, the distant ululate of sirens and intermittent blast of a car horn accompanied by streams of invectives from the frustrated drivers who're in haste to get back to wherever is home.
Luisa had no time to admire the sprawl of Rome's periphery that unfolded like a twinkling tapestry. That sinking feeling wouldn't let her. Why was she feeling so anxious? She has never felt anxious! She tried to suppress that pervasive feeling by bringing up memories of her not so long ago pleasurable adventure. She knew it wouldn't work, that lingering feeling just wouldn't go away. Her own mind had turned against her, taunting her with phantasms of her impending perdition. Something had happened. Something had happened! A mantra that incessantly rang in her head. Frencesco's objecting plea although wrapped in those soft featherlight kisses, she loved so much, did nothing to cease that gnawing feeling of misery. She didn't want to leave also, left to her, they'd still be fucking each other's brains out in bed, or on the sofa, or even against the wall. Yeah, they were crazy like that, the corners of her plump and cupid shaped lips turned upwards in a smirk that vanished just as soon as it appeared. Her mind had only allowed her nothing but a split second of sweet high before inevitably crashing her back down to reality.
Her stomach churned in sync with the downward cast of the corners of her lips. She wasn't naive to start deluding herself with positive thoughts or affirmation. In her world, such mawkish deed was ridiculous. Kill or get killed, that was the epigram of her world.
A small, very small part of her subconscious felt she was being a tad too dramatic. What could possibly go wrong? Nobody would dare to touch her family… right? After All they were the biggest and deadliest Mafia in the country. Even in the mafia world, the name De Rossi would strike fear in the heart of everyone. So why was she feeling this way? Well, only one way to find out, she decided, as her blood red heels adeptly pressed harder on the gas pedal, zooming past the rolling hills of the Roman countryside that stretched towards the horizon on her right, their emerald slopes bathed in the soft, silvery glow of the moon.
She took a quick glance at the time displayed just above the infotainment screen of her Aston Martin Vantage. 11:38PM. she kissed her teeth in frustration, why did Francesco had to make them meet somewhere so far away, from their usual spot which could have easily been one of her penthouses or his's right there in Via dei Condotti, but no! instead he had decided to explore the far and secluded part of Ravello, she thought. Not that she was complaining or anything, she did after all had an unforgettable night.
The chills were back. That tenacious feeling of imminent doom now amplified as she steered closer and closer to the giant gate of the De Rossi Mansion that used to be shut and profoundly guarded, now wide open. Her heart raced like a jackrabbit, as she parked her all black Aston right in front of the grey coated humongous gate, with a hugely carved De Rossi initials that dominated the middle. What the hell! that… that's … b.. blood! She could literally feel her pulse pounding in her throat. The once vibrant grey color of the gate now blotted with the crimson color of the blood of her father's mafia members. They were going to be her mafia members.
Her father! Dashing back to her car, she steered her way through a grand sweeping driveway that led to the main entrance, where a pair of wrought-iron gates adorned with family crest was swung open to reveal what used to be a beautiful landscape courtyard now decorated with bodies everywhere. For the first time in her life, she felt what she knew she instilled upon others. Fear. Luisa was appallingly petrified. Deep down she knew it, she could feel it, hell she could smell it! But she refused to acknowledge it, they can't be dead too. They aren't. if she could, she would have laughed at herself right now. She who would not be encumbered by something so mawkish as an optimistic thought, now finds herself grasping at even the tiniest glimmer of hope. She wasn't spiritual in any way, but at that moment she was begging, praying to whomever is up there to not let a reality she knew intuitively, to be true.
No glimpse of any emotion whatsoever on her face, save for the rigidity in her posture, and steps. Her back was as straight as a rod. Her extremely long dark mane that shined under the arrays of light of the De Rossi mansion had been put up in a messy bun that left her stiff fair skin neck exposed.
The sporadic bumping of dead bodies, that formed a trail and the infrequent trampling upon spluttered brains, inexorably led her to the stairs. Wrought-iron railings, curved upward to the right, led to the private quarters.
The heartbeat's brief hesitation. The gelid sensation that runs down the spine like a dark and foreboding presence. A moment of stillness in the ears save for the stentorian monotone ring that seemed like it'd never end. A moment of vertigo. Then, the agonizing feeling in the chest, like as if it was being eviscerated. Luisa stayed rooted to the spot as she experienced all of these emotions.
There was no explaining it really, she knew it, right from the moment she saw the bodies laid to waste in the courtyard, and on the first and second floor. She knew they wouldn't spare anybody, whoever did this was no fool, and definitely wasn't an amateur. They were experienced, just as deadly and by the looks of it, very well informed. Perhaps she was hoping one of her family would have been lucky enough to escape? She'd never felt so stupid and scared as she was now, standing in absolute shock at the dead bodies of every single one of her family members. All of them, lying in their own pool of blood like an image skillfully painted on a canvas. Her mother, brother and little sister, Sofia.
The esthetic dance of a finger made contact with her toe, thus scaring her back to reality. She robotically made her way over to her father's corpse, and stared. Aggressively stabbed, head completely bursted.
Not a single tear shed, not because she didn't want to, because she couldn't. no matter how hard she willed herself to, the tears just wouldn't flow. Looking down at the once great Alessandro De Rossi's corpse, she came to the stunning realization that, she would be lying amidst them also if Franc hadn't drawn her out to have a good time. But, alas! That gratefulness was short-lived the moment she spotted the gaping hole in the rich dark hardwood floors.
No! she repudiated the crystal-clear fact of the situation with a shake of her head, and a staggered step backwards. Her father had buried the key right there. This wasn't some petty grab for power, it wasn't even done by a competitor, that much was evident, the style wasn't Italian. Meaning they were either hired, or collaborators of betrayal, a very huge one. Luisa knew the latter was the case, but she still demurred. She didn't want to accept the fact; it only made the scorching pain in her chest ten times worse.
Why? How could he have done this? He was the only other person who knew about the key and what door it unlocked. Her father trusted him with everything! She fucking trusted him! Marcello Bianchi did this. She'd let her father disclosed the secret to him... and….
Her body stilled, him and FRANCESCO!!