Mafia's Little Dove

indows concealing the men within. Rocco Montenegro sat in the backseat

filled the air, but beneath it, the metall

d?) Rocco asked, his voice cold, eyes fixed ahe

an from the hotel lobby-whoever the hell she was-had been nothing more than an i

couldn't quite shake. But there were more pressing matters. The SUV p

ong shadows beneath the moonlight. The vehicle came to a halt, and without a

the unmistakable scent of fear. A single overhead bulb flickered, cast

nbuttoned his suit jacket and handed it to Vicenzo, who stood at attention beside him. He methodically rolled up his sl

an's breath-uneven,

, huh?) Rocco murmured, dragging a blade across Luciano's

familia." (Please, boss... I have a family.) Rocco

¿Y qué carajo me importa a mí?" (A family? And why the

of turn would only prolong his su

(Sinners always think they deserve forgiveness.) His voice echoed

no." (But reality is different. The lion does not forgive the ga

o Luciano's thigh. The man screamed, his body jer

ruelly, watching as blood

a specimen beneath glass. "Eso es lo que pasa cuando me joden." (That's

s emboscaron..." (I swear! I did what you asked... Everythin

ie

ol. And this pathetic excuse for a man had th

ing it clatter to the ground

He strode toward a control panel near the

lentless, and effective. He hovered over the

ubriré de todas formas." (The funny thing is, even

's eyes

diablo por mí." (Say hi to the devil

ucket of water, sending jolts of elect

, raw and inhuman. The acrid scent

ing away. The job was done. He reached for his jac

"Sí, jefe." Without another glance at the

the horrors inside. He pulled a cigarette from hi

ungs, he exhaled slowly, watch

was hi

. The control. And