Chapter 2 2

Diego

I always end up alone.

Or I guess at least it feels that way, anyway.

People often talk about grief as being empty. Nothing but complete and utter emptiness. But they're wrong. Grief is full. It's fucking heavy. It isn't an absence you have to fill, it's a weight you're left to pull.

Something that you're forced to carry with you no matter where you go. A weight so heavy that sometimes you feel as though you can't even breathe.

It's suffocating.

A constant reminder of what your future will no longer contain. The future you once thought you'd have.

For the people who say it gets easier. The people who said time heals. They're all liars. That's not the case at all. All that happens is the space between the times when you miss them starts to grow longer, and then when the time comes and you think of them again, miss them again, it hurts.

There isn't a pain like it. Not one I've endured anyway.

Once the pain that you feel from missing them fades away, the guilt creeps in. The guilt consumes you because you realize it's been too long since you last missed them.

You feel as though you're heartless for going an even second during a twenty-four-hour day without thinking about them. No thought of them crossing your mind at all.

It's just one big repetitive cycle.

I've felt all different kinds of pain throughout my life but grief.. grief surpasses all of them.

Placing the photo frame of my parents back down onto my desk, I shake my head, trying to rid the thoughts of them from my mind.

My childhood was far from sunshine and rainbows, but I know my parents loved me and my siblings with their lives. It's just a shame theirs were cut too short.

"Boss," a voice calls from behind me and I straighten my suit jacket, turning around to see Liam standing in the doorway to my office.

Liam is my oldest and closest friend. Our parents were friends and coincidently were only a few months apart from one another in age. It works out that I was born the year before Liam but logically it's only about five months.

"Sal got in contact, he said they're at the exchange point." He says and I nod my head slowly, toying with one of the cufflinks on my shirt.

"Any complications?" I ask and he shakes his head.

"No boss, none." He responds. "I just wanted to confirm with you before going ahead with the transaction."

I graze my teeth over my bottom lip, reaching into my pocket to pull out a cigarette. "Get it done, and tell Sal not to fuck around this time."

He nods his head before pushing off from the door frame and walking away. With a sigh, I exit my office too, heading down the hallway and towards the kitchen where Anna immediately stops cooking to greet me.

"Don," she greets with a small nod.

"Anna," I reply and give her a small nod in return.

"Is there anything I can get for you?" She asks and I shake my head, watching as she offers a slight smile before continuing to cook.

Opening the patio doors, the sound of paws tapping against the concrete flooring along with a mixture of a bark and a growl caught my attention. Soon enough the huge dog comes into view and I stand still, watching as he runs up to me.

Six, is my Mac Corso who I rescued about two years ago now. Well, I say rescued but I just went in there and took him whether they were going to allow me to or not.

My sister Matilda begged me to let her choose his name, and I reluctantly gave in and allowed her. Little did I know she would call my new guard dog a goddamn number.

Still, he seems to like the name. I guess he didn't have much choice though.

"Ciao ragazzo." I greet him as I quickly stroke his head.

[translate: hello boy]

His fur is jet black, his ears were unfortunately cropped by his previous owners. They apparently were going to start using him for illegal fighting, but luckily I managed to get there in time to prevent that from happening.

Liam and I were going to see some guy about a late payment, and it turns out I took home a lot more than I had originally bargained for. However, Six has been an amazing addition to the family and has settled in well with the other dogs.

He showed some signs of aggression and withdrawal when I first took him home, but after a lot of extensive training with the best professionals, he seems to have made a good amount of progress.

I have eight guard dogs in total. Six is the only Mac Corso. Hydra is my Bullmastiff and only girl, Zeus is a Rottweiler and the oldest out of the pack. Optimus, Voss, and Billy are German Shepherds, and Jazz and Wolf are Dobermans.

Safety and security are of the utmost importance in my household and lifestyle, so having those eight dogs roaming the perimeter every hour of the day helps assist my men.

Six runs back off towards the backyard, eventually disappearing around the side of the house. With my cigarette still in hand, I reach into my pocket and take out my lighter, placing the cigarette between my lips and lighting it.

The air is cool and crisp today, with a slight breeze too. New York has always been my home and I love it here. I just wish it wasn't so fucking cold this time of year.

January 2nd; another day into the new year, and another day for me to make some good money, even better profits, and sign deals with the appropriate alliances.

Being the eldest of three siblings, my father always taught me everything I needed to know in preparation for the day when I eventually took over from him. I looked up to him a considerable amount and admired his work ethic and his ability to make a room fall completely silent when his presence graced it.

He always had so much power and authority and as a growing teenager, that was something I too hoped for one day.

My parents were good people and knew exactly where their loyalties lay with each person they had any sort of connection to. They were well respected, especially my father, and an alliance of many other mafia leaders.

Since becoming Don five years ago, I've made sure to take everything I've learned over the years and put them into my work, and how I choose to run my business.

I'm fair and considerate, but don't give second chances lightly. Not everyone deserves them, and the people that do, often don't get them.

There are only three people in my life that I trust; my brother, sister, and Liam.

My sister Matilda is still only nineteen and not completely reliant on keeping her mouth shut, so I can't exactly tell her every single detail of any dealings that I have. But I know that if there's something important to tell her or anything I need her to do, she would be trustworthy.

Derek, my brother is only a year younger than me and a loose cannon at times, but I have so much faith in him and know at the end of the day, he'll always make the right decisions. He may not always go about them correctly, but he gets the result we want in the end.

I've heard rumors of people labeling me as heartless and ruthless. But in all honestly, to say either of those things about me would probably be an overstatement, but I don't think I'm too far off it.

After everything I've witnessed and everything I've been through, I'd like to think I have every right to be cold and heartless if I choose to.

Becoming a mafia boss at the age of twenty-one after witnessing something so horrific, gives me that right. The dire need for revenge gives me that right.

Turning on my feet, I notice two of my men patrolling the grounds, walking in my direction. "Where's Derek?" I ask.

They both look at each other before turning their attention back to me. "Uh, I think he's still in New Jersey, Don." One of them replies.

"Get him to call me," I instruct. "We have things to discuss."