??BAD BOYS
DON’T HAVE
HEARTS??
《 Monsters aren’t born, they’re Made 》
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[# SEASON TWO
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By, ✿ฺ Author Indigo Raine ✿ฺ
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©Copyright 2023 [?? ℕ?? ℂ?ℙ? ?ℝ ℝ?ℙ???]
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Genre(s): Dark Romance, Forbidden, Mafia.
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Theme: Sometimes water is better than blood.
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[# Chapter Thirty-Two
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????????? ?? ??????.
Once darkness had overtaken twilight it was time for the creatures of the night to prowl the streets searching for their next hapless victim; these beings are known as Gangsters. The White Swan Casino is their favorite place to harbour. From the top floor inside his room, Neon could hear the throaty laughs of men carousing and the coquettish giggles of woman flirting. He h@tëd it.
What he h@tëd more was the reflection glaring back at him in the full-sized gold-rimmed oval shaped mirror attached to the biege wall on his room. He was dressed in a custom-made white suit crafted by Versace and Armani suit designers. White diamonds forming snowflake patterns adorned his room white jacket, peaking from under it is a V-neck silk tailcoat. He had on long white pants that draped over his white, gold bottom shoes and in his right hand was a gold cane with a dazzling red ruby on top. His hair was in a sleep combover hairstyle with little strands over his left eye. His look finished off with white gloves band a diamond studded 24k Cuban link and a Lion head pendant–both laying on his chest.
According to what his ‘brothers’ say, his father once wore this suit when he k!lled a former Mafia boss–the one that once ruled their rival gang. They also said he is the splitting image of his father. Neon, who didn’t even know he had a father, hasn’t spoken over ten words since he arrived. He’s merely praying this is some form of dream that he’d wake up from and go home to his friends and Meira, he didn’t even get to give her the pink pearl necklace he bought her. It’s taking everything in Zayde to not break down and cry.
“Little Saint, can we come in?” Zamora asked from outside the door, which made no sense as he let himself in anyway. “Has anyone ever told you you look good in white? Because you absolutely do. Just like our father. You look so much like him. Here’s a picture of him,” he walked to Neon and handed him a blurry picture.
It was a photo of a man and his mother. The man had these exotic eyes, an almost exact shade of his. He wore a white suit, had dirty blonde hair, bore a P@?tië?-dropping smile showcasing his pearly white teeth and had a star-shaped birthmarl on his left wrist; just like he and his brothers had. This man could be his indentical twin brother. They looked the same, only, the man was obviously older.
“I just know we’re the adopted siblings. How come you look like Dad but we don’t?” Zorion entered and rested his head on Neon’s shoulder. “How are you feeling little brother? Nervous? Don’t be, the boys don’t bite, unless we have to.”
“Dad…” Neon looked at himself in the mirror. “Why didn’t he raise me? Why did he leave me with mom?”
“He never wanted us. You’re lucky you were sent to Arkville, we grew up in Cuba,” Zamora tucked some of his golden locks behind his ear. “He said we didn’t look like him, therefore we weren’t his children, but because you did he kept you close just in case. From what El Diablo told us, he cared about you, he sent thousands to millions every year so you would be well fed and taken care of. He just never visited. We weren’t so lucky, he forgot about us, to him you were his only child. El Diablo said he’d always ask your mom for pictures of you. At one point he wanted to come get you, but your mom ran away with you.”
“Oh. She…used to blame me for ruining her relationship,” Neon returned the picture and continued to stare at his reflection.
“She was his wife, but he divorced after she got pregnant. She had all three of us. At the hospital he made us get sent to Cuba to live with an infertile couple he was friends with, then made you stay with our mom. There’s not much more I know, or El Diablo won’t tell because he’s a total @,” Zamora rolled his eyes and glanced at Neon.
“I heard that,” The Devil stopped spinning his knife and leaned off the wall to walk to the three.
“Doesn’t matter,” Zamora eyed El Diablo then touched Neon on his shoulder. “Little Saint, it’s time.”
“I wanna go home, to my family,” Neon looked down sadly, heart bleeding blackness from his chest.
“Family? We are your family. We’re your brothers. Don’t tell me you’re talking about those scvmbags,” Zorion said while leaning on Neon. He immediately backed away when he turned to him with his eyes dark and bloodlust. “Saint?”
“Don’t ever Füçking disrespect them! Where the hell were you guys when I was going through hell? Don’t Füçking come here and disrespect the people who were with me throughout some of hardest times in my life!” he almost hit him with the cane but El Diablo held him back–he was much taller and muscular. “They are my family. My family!”
“Friends are never your family.” El Diablo dragged Neon back to stand next to Zamora then began to tie his tie properly. “They may have been there with you when you were drowning in crippling anxiety, but friends come and go, Family stays forever. Ryat De Leone is the son of the Most Wanted gang leader, they and us have been at war for decades. You can’t be friends, talk less of family, with the enemy. Look at me,” he tucked the tie in his suit, eyes watching Neon’s angry face.
“I said Füçking look at me,” his tone was more assertive than earlier.
Neon reluctantly met his eyes.
“Friends. Are. Never. Your. Family.” he narrowed his eyes coldly. “Now I want to hear you say it without missing a beat.”
Neon swallowed his fury, he looked at his two brothers waiting on him to obey El Diablo’s order. In the end, without any other choice, he gulped down his pride and did as told. “Friends are never your family.”
“Good. Learn it from me before the streets teach you. Sometimes water is better than blood, but water will never be or replace blood. Friends are friends, family is family. Don’t ever confuse them.”
“Listen to his words, he’s a bucket of Sh|t but his mind is well beyond his years,” Zorion smiled, he earned a side-eyed glare from El Diablo. “What? You know you love me.”
“I love Zamora, not you.” he smoothed out Neon’s brows with his thumbs then stood straight with his hands behind his back. “Now you’re the splitting image of your father, my old best friend.”
“Wait… Hold on a sec. We’re not gonna skim past that and act like you didn’t just say what you just said,” Neon looked at a blushing Zamora and then at El Diablo. “Are you two…y’know?”
The pair eyed each other but didn’t answer his question. El Diablo left the trio to go open the door and held it like that. “It’s time. They’ve been waiting long enough, ????? ??????.”
“Wait! Wait! Wait I’m not ready!” Neon was dragged outside despite his protests.
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The beauty of the interior amazed Neon the more he walked alongside his brothers. A pristine cream carpet with golden edges covered the floor. In adequate light the cream-ish and gold accents of the place gave off a feeling of dangerous elegance and opulence that only rich could afford. Paintings covered the entirety of the walls and the high-arched ceiling was basically a giant painting depicting men dressed in white standing amongst vomit-inducing carnage. It was unexpected, but he was starting to like the place. It was breathtaking.
The four entered an elevator that had gold on the inside. El Diablo pressed the button for the bottom floor. Inside, all of them began adjusting their outfits–so did Neon. Once the lift pinged the doors slid open revealing a massive crowd of glamorous women and well-dressed men. What made the setting truly unique was that no one wore an ounce of black or the color gray. The people standing among tables audibly gasped upon seeing him. Some even fainted on spot.
“El Guero? It can’t be!”
“Our King is back! What took him so long?”
“Father, it’s good to have you back on the throne.”
“All hail El Guero the Mexican Mafia King!”
“Now that his highness is back, we can finally wipe those black ants off the earth permanently.”
“I see the bloodshed already. Welcome back El Guero!”
They started to chant the name ‘El Guero’, Neon who isn’t a very big fan of crowds and loud noises starts to back up but El Diablo put a hand on his back. “??́?????. It’ll be over soon. Don’t panic,” he whispered to him. “?????,” he began to lead him down a flight of white spiral stairs.
Bodyguards had to be summoned as people rapidly crowded the bottom of the stairs. There was upwards a thousand people present, both there and from upstairs looking down at them. The four made their way across an area filled with tables and onto a stage. The lights were dimmed and everyone took their sights. The once noisy place now held anticipating silence–this sent Neon’s nervous system quaking. He h@tëd it, too.
“Ladies, and Gentleman, both associates and official members of the Paloma Cartel, welcome to the White Swan Casino & Hotel,” El Diablo bowed at the front of the stage. “Years ago we lost a great man, a King. Gone too soon, rest in peace Father,” he turned to point at the trio. “On this stage, here, tonight, we have the King’s heirs. El Zorro, El Águila, and the newly found; El Santé.
“They, are the future of the Paloma Cartel. Together they will bring The Ravens down once and for all. It took me a while to assemble them, but I made the King a promise on his death bead; that I would find his children and bring them where they belong. According to tradition the first born son is to rule the Cartel after the fall of the Don. El Santé, please step up.”
All eyes zeroed in on Zayde. He looked so much like his father some people failed to believe he wasn’t El Guero. It took arduous effort from every muscle in his body to make him slowly walk to stand by El Diablo’s side under the bright light.
“Sicarios. Males and females. Tell your friends and family, write it in blood on the streets, carve it into the skulls of your enemies. The Paloma Cartel is back in full force with a new king. All hail El Guero’s son; Zayde Matías Ramón García, now known on the streets as El Santé,” he bowed next to him as the hitmen and woman rise to their feet with cheers. They popped bottles of champagne and fired thunderous gunshots into the ceiling as a celebration. “He may not be as perfect as his father yet, but don’t worry, with the help of I and the others, he will be even more terrorizing.”
“Congratulations Little Saint! You’re a Godfather now!” Zamora and Zorion clapped and cheered excitedly for him.
But Neon–well, El Santé, the name he h@tës–didn’t seem to be processing anything. He was there, but at the same time he wasn’t. ?????????. Mexican Cartels are the most violent in the entire world. Like psychopaths, they show common behavioral traits, such as a blatant disregard for laws, failure to feel remorse or guilt, a tendency to display recklessly violent behavior, and a disregard for the rights of others. Now that Neon is the main ruler of one that has over 200,000 members he doesn’t know what to feel or think.
But he does know one thing; he’s gonna go back to his friends. If playing along and being the ruthless Kingpin they want is the only way, then that’s exactly what he’s gonna do. He closed his eyes them sucked in a breath, he held it for seconds then released it. When they reopened, Neon was gone.
El Santé was in charge now.
His lips curled into a darkly amused smiled, it exposed his flawlessly perfect rows of white teeth. “????́ ??? ?? ?????? ?????????. ???????.”
“I know you will, I see the bloodthust nd violence in your eyes. I believe you’ll be a monstrosity to society. I’ll ruthlessly train you to be a feared Kingpin. By the time I’m done shaping you into a true beast, Lucifer will be serving you wine,” he poured a glass of champagne for El Santé and handed it to him. When he took it, he didn’t immediately let go. He smiled sinisterly while looking into his eyes–it was like looking at his old friend, but a younger version.
“Welcome to the Mexican Mafia.”
“My pleasure,” his lips curled ever so slightly in a sweet smile. “It feels good being where I belong.”
The bumped glasses and laughed.
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????????…
Meira, who hadn’t been to school in a while, could no longer stay at home. She had to go. After crying with the boys and helping them to bed she spent the night vigorously typing away at her laptop and successfully managed to complete two of them without letting Meira’s of previous incidents disturb her. She only managed to get an hour of sleep–you could barely even call it that. Regardless, she showered and had a simple sandwich and glass of orange juice for breakfast.
As she was leaving her room for school Ryat stopped her. Seeing his handsome face with messy hair and wrinkles from the sheets, it lifted her morning, but the realization that Neon wasn’t around ruined it for her.
“Good morning,” she managed to say, her throat a little hoarse from crying and screaming yesterday.
“Where are you going?” he slid his hands down into the pockets of his black sweat pants. Resulting in it being pulled down to further expose the Calvin Klein underwear he was wearing. Not to mention that obvious bulge in his pants.
“School. School is important. I have to go,” she looked at her feet.
“What if I don’t want you to go?” he walked closer, his naked feet coming into view. For a guy, he had pretty toes. “Meira,” he raised her chin with one finger, he bent down to be on the same eye level with her. “Leaving is not a good idea. Stay here.”
“No!” she backed away from him. “I have to go. I’ve stayed home long enough. I h@të it here, I don’t wanna be here anymore. I’m going and you won’t stop me. Understand?”
He arched a brow, surprised by her assertiveness. She’s usually very submissive, especially for him. What happened is beginning to toughen her up, he nods in approval. She’ll need to grow thick skin on the long run; he won’t always be around to protect her. Ryat doesn’t know where he got the urge, but he grabbed her nape and pulled her into his arms.
Ryat would never admit this to God himself; but he was scared, and worried. He lost both parents, three of his closet friends, five years out of school, and his sanity is slowly slipping from his hands. He’s losing everything one by one, even his goddamn mind. In his world of darkness and pain, Meira is that light–her and Neon. Meira’s name means ‘giving light’ or ‘shining’, Neon’s mean ‘extremely bright’–together they give his world light. Losing one of them is a pain indescribable, losing another is unacceptable.
These recent activities makes his heart feel numb. Cold. Empty. Lifeless. He’s becoming cold-hearted, he feels it, and he doesn’t like it, but who is he to stop it? Maybe Lady Danger is right; he’s better off without emotions. If he was unable to feel anything his heart wouldn’t be in shambles right now. He didn’t even know when a tear slid down his cheek and dropped on Meira’s head.
They pulled away after a while and Ryat kissed Meira on the forehead.
“I love you.”
Meira was taken aback. “What?”
“I love you.”
“…What?”
“I said I love you, idiot,” he hugged her again. “You’re my little sister, as a big brother I’m supposed to love you. Now get your @ to school I don’t want any bimbos in here.”
Meira for a moment thought he meant something else, but it was quickly squashed. What was she thinking? Bad Boys don’t have hearts. Why would Ryat love her…romantically? She awkwardly smiled and left for school, a bit more upset that she was earlier.
If only Meira knew he meant what he said, if only she knew he didn’t speak to her, his heart did.
If only she knew he’d set the world on fire for her, how did hatred transpire into a die-for-you kind of love? He’d never know the answer. He just knows what he feels is strong–that’s why he has to find a way to escape Lady Danger and take her and the boys far away from there.
However, as he heard the sound of the car engine revving outside, he can’t help but feel a deep and heartbreaking sense of dread; as if he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life by letting her go.
And he did.
Not long after Meira drove off she noticed an army green Range Rover following her. She brushed it off at first, thinking maybe they were just heading the same direction, but it was soon made clear the car was following her. Meira sped up to avoid the vehicle and hopefully escape but the moment she entered a cross road anothed vehicle slammed into hers. It skated off the road, flipped then landed back on its wheels.
Meira was was injured, luckily not fatally. Her vision blurred from the concussion she had, the last thing she saw before someone removed her from the car was a blue Lamborghini parked under the shade of tree that looked oddly familiar.
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