Beneath the Mafia’s Gaze

Rosalia's POV.

“We want him dead. And you will do the job.”

My eyes widened in shock at their sudden words. Kill! Carmine Montanari?!

“No way! I can't do that! I've never done an assassination job! Ever!” I protested, my voice trembling with fear. “And even if I had, this is not just anybody we're talking about. This is the lord of the Montanari family! I could never even get close to him without being killed myself. I can't take…"

Smack!

Before I could finish, a forceful strike sent me crashing to the floor, pain radiating through my face. The sting was immediate, and my vision blurred with tears.

Looking up, I saw the deputy head's cold, unfeeling eyes boring into me as if I were a piece of trash. “Have you forgotten your identity, Rosalia?” she asked.

I shivered as she bent down to my level and raised my chin roughly to meet her eyes. “You're a slave. Our slave.” Her voice froze my blood. “And you will do whatever we tell you to do. Understand?”

Tears filled my eyes as she stood back up, casting one last, disdainful glance at me before leaving the room. Her words echoed in my mind, amplifying the hopelessness that gripped my heart.

The walls seemed to close in, trapping me in an eternal hell. She was right. I had no choice. I was their slave.

Even if they had asked me to kill myself, I would have no option but to obey. Resistance was futile. I could only submit. My attempts to fight back, to assert even a shred of my will, were pointless. I was nothing more than a tool to them, a pawn in their brutal game.

Curled on the floor, I cried silently. Each sob wracked my body, a manifestation of the despair and powerlessness that consumed me. The cold, hard floor beneath me felt like a grave.

I never wished for a life like this. No one would. Every day was a struggle to survive, to hold on to the faintest hope that things might change. But hope was a cruel illusion, always just unreachable.

But I had no choice. My father died in their debt, and I was at their mercy. Escaping was pointless; they would catch me, and the torture would be even worse. I had seen firsthand what happened to those who tried. Their broken bodies and vacant eyes haunted my nightmares.

“Rosa? Rosa!”

The door of my room opened and someone came in.

“Rosa?” Her urgent voice quieted in concern as she sat next to me. It was my best friend, Marcel. I raised my head from my knees and hugged her tightly. She was probably confused but she hugged me back.

“Rosa, what happened? Tell me.”

And so I burst out sobbing again. “I don't know, Marcel. They assigned me an assassination mission. And I can't kill. I don't know how to. I've never killed anything! And this is not just anything. How am I supposed to kill Carmine Montanari?! I'll be killed! They're sending me to my death!”

Her body froze as I spoke hysterically. She pulled me away from her, her eyebrows furrowed angrily, green eyes seeming like they were ready to cast a witch's spell.

“Fuck!” She blurted out. “Rosa, you can't go!”

“I know, Marcel! I know! But Imelda doesn't let me reject the mission. There's nothing I can do. Absolutely nothing. I'm going to die.”

“You are not going to die.”

“I am!!!”

“Shut up! I'll kill the old hag! Let her see who's dying first! She can't send you on an assassination; there are people for that!”

I hugged my knees tightly, rocking back and forth as I trembled from my very core. Maybe it was the fear of death, or perhaps it was the overwhelming sense of powerlessness I felt, but I just could not stop trembling.

Marcel wiped the tears on my face with her fingers, but it was no use. My tears seemed perpetually never-ending.

At this point, a man appeared at the door. The bald head, thick furrowed brows, and tall muscular frame could not be more familiar to me. This was one of the 'enforcers' of the organization. Enforcer being a fancy name to address the beasts who were responsible for punishment and torture.

His eyes roamed between Marcel and me before landing on me. “Imelda sent for you,” he said slowly.

“Fuck you! She's going nowhere." Marcel made to lunge at him, but I pulled her back immediately. I was already in trouble. I couldn't let Marcel be punished too.

I wiped my tears roughly, trying to strengthen my tone. “I'll go. Marcel, stay here.”

I stared at her blazing green eyes seriously. She didn't need to put herself in danger to save me.

She seemed reluctant but stood back as I left, her hands clenched tightly. The look in her eyes was a mixture of anger and helplessness, mirroring my turmoil.

We soon reached the door of Imelda's office, and the bald enforcer held the door open, signaling me to go in. I felt my heart jump to my throat as I walked in with my head lowered. He followed behind and closed the door.

For a few minutes, it was silent. The silence seemed heavy and imposing. All of a sudden, I heard the sound of a chair being pushed back, and my heart thumped loudly as Imelda approached me.

She stood right in front of me, her presence suffocating.

“You know, I don't quite understand you, Rosalia. Why would you reject the mission? It's easy. Kill and leave. You've been here for ten years. Don't tell me you haven't seen a person being killed before?”

I could hear the biting sarcasm in her words. But was it as easy as she said? No. The first time I had seen a person die in front of me, I had been burdened by nightmares for a really long time before I recovered. If I were to kill a person myself, I would probably never recover.

I remained silent, not replying to her taunts. This most likely irritated her, and she became impatient, grabbing my jaw to make me look straight at her.

“I don't have much patience, but I'll be a good person and give you another option. Kill this man, and your father's debt will be completely cleared away or reject the mission right here, right now and follow Pablo here to his quarters so you can both have a good talk. Choose.”

My hopes, which had been raised momentarily, immediately fell into the depths of an abyss. These were my options: die or die. I was still helpless; I had no choice.

Seeing that I gave no reply, she released my jaw and nodded to the enforcer. “Take her away, Pablo.”

I panicked as he grabbed my arm. “Wait… please… no…"

Suddenly, the door opened. “Take who away?”

Rosalia's POV.

Suddenly, the door opened, and a calm, authoritative voice filled the room. “Take who away?”

We all turned toward the door.

A middle-aged man with gray hair and gentle hazel eyes, seated in a wheelchair, entered the room, his gaze sweeping around with concern. “What's happening here? Pablo, let go of the young woman.”

The bald enforcer immediately released his grip on me, and I stumbled, struggling to regain my balance. My hope was renewed.

The gray-haired man was Vito Mancini, the head of the organization. Disabled in his legs, he relied on a wheelchair for mobility. When I was first brought to the organization, he supervised my work. Unlike the ruthless individuals around, Vito was lenient and gentle. Recently, however, his health had deteriorated, and much of his authority had been delegated to Imelda.

Though I knew he wasn't a saint—after all, he owned this organization—I believed he was a more compassionate person to plead to than the unfeeling Imelda.

I immediately begged him, my voice trembling with desperation. “Sir, please help me. I can't do it… I can't kill. I really can't. You have to help me… please.”

Vito's brows furrowed as he turned to Imelda. “What's the matter here, Imelda?”

Imelda's cold eyes fixated on me sternly before looking at Vito. “Nothing much, sir. We received a mission to assassinate Carmine Montanari, and she was picked for the job. But she seems to have a problem with the decisions of the organization. So, of course, I let Pablo take her away for a… small talk,” she said in an undermining tone.

I glared at her angrily. She seemed to think assassinating Carmine Montanari was a small job. Then why hadn't she handled the job herself? Why did she have to pick me?

Vito seemed quite shocked by her words. “Kill Mr. Montanari? Is she a trained assassin?” he asked.

Imelda was quiet for a few seconds. “No. But having been in the organization for 10 years, she should be skilled enough to know how it works—”

“Imelda!” Vito cut her short abruptly. “You're sending an untrained person to kill! Is this how you run the organization? Do you want to ruin our reputation?!”

Imelda's thin lips tightened into a straight line as she quieted. She waited until Vito had finished before speaking. “Sir, an assassin would never be able to get close to Mr. Montanari himself. He would be easily suspicious. But someone like her with no aura of blood thirst works perfectly! She has to do the job."

I could see Vito becoming persuaded by her reasoning, so I interjected. “But sir, I really can't. It will end up a failed mission. I have never killed anyone before. I really cannot.”

Vito looked at me and Imelda for a while before sighing. “I understand, my dear. But the point Imelda made is quite valid.” I could feel the hope that had arisen dashing against the wall and turning to pieces like fragile porcelain. What had I expected? My mind felt like it was sinking into muddy waters.

But then he started speaking again, his voice softer. “So let's make it this way. You don't have to carry out the assassination. Instead, we need someone like you on the inside, gathering information. And someone else can handle the assassination. Is that alright with you?”

“Yes! Yes, sir! Thank you…" I felt immense gratitude for his intervention, knowing he had given me a chance to avoid a fate I couldn't bear.

I was allowed to leave, and as soon as I left the office, I immediately ran to find Marcel. However, I didn't have to run far because I soon saw her pacing around the hallway.

“Marcel!” I called out loudly.

She turned around, her eyes wide with surprise when she saw me. She ran up to me and held my shoulders, inspecting me worriedly.

“They didn't do anything to you, did they? Did they let you reject the mission? Are you okay?”

I could feel her trembling hands as she rambled on, and I knew she was just as anxious as I was. So, I held her hands to stop her from continuing.

“Let's talk in my room, Marcel.”

When we got to my room, I told her everything that had happened.

“... So I just have to spy on that man. Even though it's still dangerous, it's better than having to kill him. I'm still so scared from the thought, Marcel.”

Marcel and I lay on my bed, staring at each other blankly.

She rolled onto her back and covered her face with her palms. “I mean… it is better. But you have to be careful. People say he's not to be messed with.”

“I understand.” I smiled, feeling warmed by her concern. I scooted closer and hugged her. “I love you, Marcy.”

She removed her hands from her face and glared at me playfully. “I said, don't call me Marcy. It's Marcel. And I love you too,” she grumbled.

“Right. I understand, Marcy.”

“Arrrgh! I'll get you for that!”

---

The mission plan arrived, detailing my role: infiltrate the Montanari Villa as the caretaker of his young 5-year-old daughter.

I felt a bit skeptical. I had never worked with children before. Would I be able to handle the job?

As it turned out, my worries were unnecessary. The organization had somehow arranged for me to join a caretaking agency, where I not only cared for kids but also learned housekeeping skills.

For a month, I toiled like a bull every day, gradually growing accustomed to the intensity.

After completing the month-long training, I was summoned by Vito.

Feeling anxious, I made my way to his office. After all, this was no ordinary mission.

Upon entering, I found Vito seated with another man.

He greeted me with a gentle smile. “Take a seat, dear.”

Nervously, I complied.

“Well, you've received the necessary training and your mission directives,” Vito began solemnly. “The Montanari Villa is not a place to be taken lightly. You must never let your guard slip up. I believe you understand this.”

I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Next week, you'll be sent to the Villa by the caretaking agency. Your goal is to win over the young princess so you can gain employment. This will make it easier for you to gather information.”

I nodded again, already familiar with the mission directive. Nothing could go wrong. Failure was not an option.

“That's all, I guess. You can leave now. Take care of yourself, dear. Once you accomplish this mission, you'll be relieved of your debt and finally be free.”

As I left his office, Vito's words echoed in my mind. Accomplishing this mission meant freedom.

It felt like such a strange concept, yet it was something I had always longed for.

Lost in thought, I walked out of the building, my mission directive running through my mind: Infiltrate the Villa, gain the trust of the young princess and her father, and steal information.

Simple enough, right? But the idea of entering the Montanari Villa as a spy filled me with dread.

Lost in my thoughts, I collided with someone, sending my keys clattering to the ground.

“I'm so sorry,” I apologized, looking up.

It was the man from Vito's office. He glanced at me and walked away without a word.

Rude, I thought, picking up my keys. As I did, I noticed a distinctive gold ring on the floor.

It must have belonged to the man. I raised my head intending to call out to him, but he had disappeared.

I frowned slightly as I looked at the ring. Strange.