Capítulo 11: Georgio the Hyena (Part 3)
Steeling himself, Rocco took a step forward.
"You… you're going to be mine… uh, no. I mean… You are mine!" Rocco's voice stumbled before regaining its footing, delivering the line with all the bravado he could muster.
The words, "You are mine," were pivotal in the novel—a bold statement and fitting for the cunning and confident Sylas.
It was a declaration that reflected the mafia-like dominance and assurance of the original protagonist.
But from Rocco? It sounded less like a confident claim and more like a desperate gamble.
When Rocco had first read the line in the novel, he'd thought, What a cool line! It had seemed so bold and commanding.
But now… something about saying it himself felt a bit embarrassing.
To claim someone as "yours" right after meeting them—it clashed awkwardly with the modest sensibilities he'd carried over from his previous life.
Blushing slightly, he stammered and hesitated, fumbling for words.
Georgio who is still lying on the ground, began to furrow his brow in suspicion as he looked up at Rocco.
This was bad.
He was clearly growing wary.
Oh, whatever! I just have to say something! Anything's better than standing here like an idiot, Rocco decided.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he blurted out the words in a rush.
"You—you! Become… my family!"
The moment the words left his mouth, Rocco froze, realization hitting him like a thunderbolt. Oh no. I've completely botched it.
He slowly opened his eyes, his face paling as he dared to glance at Georgio.
The infamous killer's face was slack with confusion, his mouth slightly ajar in disbelief.
The look of utter bewilderment made it feel as though time itself had frozen around them.
"Ah, uh… no, that's not what I meant. I mean…," Rocco stammered, trying to salvage the situation.
But it was no use; his cool façade was beginning to crack.
He needed to regain control—he had to remember the terrifying expression of Rocco Di Malvento, the villainous role he was supposed to be playing.
Furrowing his brow in an attempt to appear intimidating, Rocco reflected on his mistake.
No, no, that wasn't it.
He hadn't meant to mess up.
He'd simply wanted to adjust Sylas's original line, "Become mine," into something a bit more casual, something that felt less commanding.
He'd toyed with words like "friend" or "ally," but nothing had seemed quite right.
Then inspiration had struck—he'd thought about how mafia members often referred to their group, their collective, as "family."
What Rocco meant to say was something like, "Join my family." It would've been simple and fitting.
But in his nervousness, the words had tumbled out wrong, leaving only the awkward "become my family" behind.
Ugh, what a disaster…
"...Family?"
A quiet voice interrupted his frantic thoughts, barely audible over the sound of the falling rain.
Rocco froze, glancing down at Georgio.
To his surprise, the killer—feared across the slums—had an unfamiliar expression on his face.
His dark eyes glistened with something that might have been rain, or perhaps tears.
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