My eyes won't open

Hazel

I was daydreaming, lost in the thrill of imagining myself riding a magnificent horse. The wind rushed past me, and I felt an exhilarating sense of freedom. Suddenly, everything changed. I fell hard, the impact jarring every part of my body. Pain shot through me, and I couldn't move.

I tried to open my eyes, but it was as if they were glued shut. Panic set in as I struggled to wake up, to move, to escape the pain that was spreading through my body. With great effort, I managed to half-open my eyes, only to be met with an intense headache that blurred my vision. The world around me spun, and I felt utterly helpless.

I have no idea where I am. It feels like I'm trapped in a large drum. My hands and legs are tied, and there's tape over my mouth. I can't move, and my head is throbbing with pain. I think I'm in a vehicle. They must be transporting me in this drum.

Nothing makes sense. All I want to do is sleep. My eyes won't open, probably because of the drugs. Darkness is closing in around me again, and I feel myself slipping back into it.

Zayn martino

Christmas party starts in less than an hour, but I'm still holed up with my parents in my father's office. His office is one of the biggest

rooms in the house, larger than the master suite or the library. Which is fitting, because business is the center of our family we have to pretend .

we have a large business all over Italy but we are into mafia all kind of weapons and gun supply and different kind of diamonds is our main business

My great-grandfather was an underboss in the Italian mafia. After him, my grandfather became an underboss and eventually led the mafia. During his reign, the Russians attacked the Italian mafia. During the attack, our Godfather was killed. Both my great-grandfather and grandfather managed to save the entire mafia. Afterward, my grandfather became the new Godfather.

After my grandfather became the Godfather, my family has been leading the Italian mafia. First, my grandfather, then my father, and now it's my turn to take the helm.

I'm the one to carry on our name and legacy. My parents certainly meant to have more children, but they faced seven failed pregnancies, each ending in miscarriage or stillbirth. The weight of all those missing children lies on my shoulders. I'm the eldest and the only son they have, and they love me dearly.

I have no problem with this mafia life . I grew up seeing it. My mom has always wanted to keep me away from it, and even today, she fears for me. But what can we do? We can't abandon this legacy now. And truth be told, I'm loving it—this legacy, this power.

My father is leaning up against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. He's tall, fit, gray hair cut stylishly, horn-rimmed glasses giving him an intellectual look.

You'd never guess that he came up as a bruiser, smashing kneecaps at the Horseshoe when people failed to pay their debts or deceived him. Sometimes I doubt myself because when Dad is with Mom, they're all lovey-dovey, but when he leads the mafia, he's cold-hearted. Dad keeps our family life and the mafia world very separate, and one reason for this is my mother.

My mother is slim and petite, with a sleek blonde bob. She's over by the window, watching the caterers set up on the lawn. I know she's anxious to get out there as quickly as possible, She is the queen of this empire, but she doesn't desire this crown, this money, or this fame.

On their first wedding anniversary, she had asked Dad for a small two-story house in the forest. It has two bedrooms, a hall, kitchen, and dining room. And outside, there's a large farm where she keeps many animals. She's an animal lover—horses, dogs, cats, cows, various birds, and many others that I don't even know by name.

Last time I visited, they had brought in new pigs. Sometimes I wonder if next time she might ask for a crocodile to dad

And my dad even got her a crocodile once. My father would never say no to my mother, never.

"Make sure you talk to Cardenas," my father is saying. "He controls the firefighters' union. To get his support, we'll basically need to bribe him. Be subtle about it, though, he likes to pretend he's above that sort of thing.

"Anything else?" I say to my father.

"Not about tonight," he says. "But sometime soon we need to discuss the Braterstwo."

I grimace.

As if I didn't have enough to worry about, the Polish mafia is also

becoming an increasingly aggressive thorn in my side. They're fucking savages. They don't understand how things are done in the modern era.

They're still living in a time when you solve disputes by cutting off a man's hands and throwing him into the river.

I mean, I'll do that if I have to, but I at least try to come to an agreement before it reaches that point.

"Let's figure that out tomorrow," I tell my father. I can't have it on my mind tonight.

"Fine," he says, straightening up and tugging the hem of his suit jacket

back into place.

My mother gives him a once over to make sure he's looking sharp, then she turns her eyes on me.

"Is that what you're wearing?" she says, raising one perfectly manicured eyebrow.

"What about it?" I say.

"It's a bit formal."

"Dad's wearing a suit."

"She means you look like an undertaker," my father remarks.

"I'm young. I want to look mature."

"You still need style my boy ," he says.

I sigh. I'm well aware of the importance of image in public . In the mafia, these things don't matter much, only matters yours gun , but when you're involved in normal and legal business, everything counts—your appearance, your style, and how you communicate.

Today is an important day. Along with the mafia gathering, many prominent politicians, high-ranking officers, and famous personalities have also arrived.

I recently started wearing some closely-trimmed facial hair, on the advice of my assistant.

In social gatherings Still, it gets tiring changing your clothes three times a day to perfectly tailor your appearance to the occasion.

"I'll sort it out," I promise them

I give my dad a poor eye. She's still not talking to me. Last week, I went with Luca for a weapons deal and there was an attack by the Polish mafia. I wasn't hurt at all, didn't even get a scratch, but Mom got angry. She forbade me from attending the meeting, but I still went. Now she's not talking to me.

My dad said, "Give me some time, I'll convince your mother." But I doubt she'll forgive me so easily.