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Dear Dove

You can get much further with a kind word and a gun than you can with just a kind word. – Al Capone An iron fist and a merciless cold metal gun, the mafia code that was taught to Zane Scarlet by his father. A code he wants to reform. But... When the only one knows how to solve problems is with a gun in hand and the only answer for betrayal is death - where does one start? And how does one do it while avoiding any attempts at arranged marriage? Not to mention the fiery woman on the right side of the law who entered his life like a whirlwind. What good could she possibly be? excerpt: "We already agreed where your place ends, Rose. There's no need any further argument. This Is final." Zane pinched the bridge of nose, turning to leave. A small hand grabbed the much larger one. An unexpected move. "What if I don't want my place to end there?" the low, quivering voice asked. "What if I want this to be real?" --------------------------------------------------------------------- Little Dove I love you so but I know you have to go. So spread your wings and fly my love, soar above the world my dove. Paint the sky in indigo, let your graceful colors flow, and I'll search the sky for your rainbow. ~ Author: Christy Ann Martine *Prequel to Arranged Marriage To The Princess of The Red Scorpions*

DameButterfly · สมัยใหม่
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139 Chs

Price for Betrayal

"Please! I swear we won't do it again!" The pleas of the man on his knees fell on deaf ears. The man towering above them stared back with a cold, emotionless mask. Traitors weren't tolerated, especially those who sold others out.

The traitor tried to reason again. Claiming that he would be willing to repay his wrongdoings in any way his captor saw fit.

"You would be willing to repay me in any way I see fit? Then you should be willing to accept that I want your life as repayment. You can get your second chance in hell." Cold and harsh came the reply as the barrel of a gun came into contact with the captive's forehead. The man trembled in fear as the color drained from his face. It was obvious what was bout to take place but before the last plea could escape, the trigger was pulled. The bang of the single bullet was mute thanks to the silencer. The captor watched as the lifeless body fell back to lay beside his fallen comrades who had met the same fate moments prior.

"Zane, sir." The quiet man standing next to him held out a handkerchief. Zane placed the gun on the handkerchief. There was no intention of discarding the gun but avoiding fingerprints was a must.

"Thank you." Zane handed off the gun. How was it that so many fake, unreliable, pain the ass fools managed to sneak their way into the underworld? Was it that hard for them to comprehend that all they had to do to live decent lives was to remain loyal and follow orders?

"Make sure these are taken care of. Make a statement with them if you have to avoid this happening again." This was the third time in the last month that Zane had to deal with turncoats who let their greed and desire for immediate gratification consume them.

Their whole families were taken care of after all.

Perhaps now... they would have to be taken care of in a different manner...

The sound of glass or grit crunching underfoot echoed through the ally. Zane instinctively grabbed for his gun only to realize it was not in its normal place. A muted swear word escaped as he turned to face the back of the ally and whoever was there.

Scanning left to right, there was nothing to see except for the all-consuming darkness that stared back. Zane's head suddenly snapped to the left when a silhouette caught in the corner of his eye against the right wall. Someone was there! Based on the decreasing height of the silhouette, it seemed that the intruder was moving away from the area.

Ten steps were all it took to cover the distance. Time was of the essence in these situations. The seconds of hesitation was two seconds too long. The unknown intruder must have gotten away as there was no one standing around or near the entrance of the ally way.

Did they manage to get away or was it a trick of the imagination? Zane was not the paranoid type despite being overly cautious. The number of times he had been correct in such instances far outweighed the incorrect times. For this once though, would it have been too much to have been wrong? Another unexpected headache was the last thing that was needed.

Zane's question was answered quickly. An off-color yellow cloth's presence became known when a breeze caused it to shift position not far from where Zane stood.

"Clive I want you to check that for me," Zane indicated to the object.

"I think it'll give us an idea of who our little eavesdropper is."