He stared at the photos
that littered the floor. The glossy surfaces mocked him, the pictures with him
with different women, having dinner, flirting and fucking. He followed the
trail, the anxiousness didn’t fade, and he bit his lip as he walked into the garage.
He ran his calloused hand through silver locks, the other tucked into the
pocket of his pants.
His heavy footsteps echoed
as he walked on into the dark garage, metal bands of his rings hitting against
the plastic switch as he turned on the lights to a surprise.
The once beautiful F12berlinetta
now vandalized.
Paint job scratched and
scraped off.
The body was beyond
repair, bullet holes and dents aplenty.
The windows were smashed
in, though bullet proof, it wasn’t indestructible.
It had been smashed from
the inside.
The interior of the car
had also taken a new look, leather seats filled with bullet holes and multiple
stabs and tears, the soft filling inside of the seats spilled out in a large
mess.
Not one part of the
luxurious car was left untouched. Even the headlights were smashed in.
But the thing that caught
his attention the most was the shining silver ring that lay on the ground along
with shards of gleaming glass and bullet casings, the single diamond ring laid
there glittering and unscarred even though it looked like it had been thrown
with much force from the dent on the band.
He fell on his knees; the
pain didn’t register into his numb heart.
Even when he had told her
the truth about the Mafia and how he worked, she accepted him. His blood
stained hands she held and kissed, forgiving him in so many ways no matter
what.
But now, she was gone.
The person he loved.
The one thing he cared
for.
“Thanks for getting me,
Reborn,” she smiled sadly as she wiped away the tears that threatened to fall.
“It’s not a problem,
bella.”
