บท 61: I am who I am
In the alleyways of the city were dark and damp, filled with the stench of decaying refuse. It was here that Lorenzo and his men emerged, panting and covered in soot, having just cleared out the O'Neal brothers' base. The gunfire and explosions still rang in Lorenzo's men ears, but they knew they couldn't afford to linger.
Lorenzo signaled for his men to follow him as they scaled the grimy walls of the buildings around them, adrenaline pumping through their veins. They vaulted from one rooftop to another, every footstep echoing off the old bricks, until they finally reached their getaway cars hidden several blocks away.
Mike, a young and eager driver of Lorenzo, fumbled with the keys to the car, his hands shaking as he saw the flames licking the night sky behind them—the O'Neal brothers' stronghold reduced to cinders. He swallowed his fear as he opened the doors for the others, hoping none of them had been tagged in the shootout.
One by one, Lorenzo's men piled into their respective vehicles, their faces a gallery of grit and determination. They knew the heat would be upon them soon, and every second counted. Engines roared to life, spewing dark clouds of smoke into the already polluted air as the convoy sped off into the night.
Mike glanced at his rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of his boss. Lorenzo's expression was unreadable, as if he hadn't just orchestrize the demise of O'Neal brothers and burn down their base. Mike couldn't help but feel a shiver of admiration for his boss's steely resolve.
The convoy weaved through the city streets like a pack of feral animals, herded by a silent understanding of the way to evade pursuit. Sirens wailed in the distance, the law awakening to the chaos left in their wake, but they were too late—Lorenzo and his men were already disappearing into the labyrinthine web of side streets and alleys.
Lorenzo lit a cigarette, the orange glow illuminating his features for a brief moment. "Mike," he drawled, his voice gravelly from years of smoke and whiskey, "You did good back there, kid. Keep it up, and you might just make it in this business."
Mike's heart swelled with pride, his admiration for Lorenzo growing even more. To be acknowledged by the boss himself was a badge of honor he'd carry for the rest of his days.
---
Meanwhile, Cook and the remnants of his crew had just exited their vehicles. Gunners emerged from the shadows, their tommy guns spewing leaden death. Cook's men fell like dominos, their bodies twisting in grotesque contortions as the hail of bullets found their mark.
Panicked, Cook and the survivors scrambled for their lives, diving for cover and firing back blindly, but it was no use. They were outgunned, outmanned, and destined to fall.
As the last of their number fell, the gunners retreated back into the darkened alleyways, leaving only carnage in their wake. The unmistakable rumble of police cars in the distance was the only eulogy the O'Neal brothers would receive.
When the police finally arrived, it was too late. The streets ran red with the blood of the fallen, and the only living soul was a bedraggled stray cat that, oblivious to the carnage, prowled the fringes of the carnage, meowing for scraps.
The O'Neal brothers' reign of terror was over, and the city would never be the same again.
Lorenzo and his men had made their move, and they'd won.
---
The sun had barely begun to peek over the horizon, casting the city in a sickly orange glow, but Deborah didn't care. She rapped on the door of Lupo Group, the legitimate front for one of Lorenzo's illegitimate operations in the neighborhood—Lorenzo Lupo.
The door creaked open, revealing Adam. "Oh, Deborah," he said, a lopsided grin splitting his face, "You're as punctual as always." He stepped aside, admitting her into the building. "Lorenzo's in his office, as usual. He's been up all night, but I'm sure he'd appreciate some company."
Deborah's brow furrowed, but she didn't comment.
She knocked lightly on the door before entering, and there he was, hunched over his desk, a pen in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. The scent of stale smoke permeated the room, and she coughed lightly to announce her presence.
Lorenzo continued to feign ignorance as Deborah, the thorn in his side and the only person who dared to defy him, stared daggers at him. He knew she hated his smoking habit, but he also knew she secretly enjoyed the opportunity to mother him.
Finally, when he could no longer contain his amusement, he looked up from the documents littering his desk, a sideways smirk playing on his lips. "Good morning, my love," he purred, his voice low and gravelly.
"You always pretend not to see me," Deborah chuffed, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she glanced at the paper in Lorenzo's hand, "What are you writing? Are you up to your old tricks with that Corleone family again, huh?"
Lorenzo's cheeks flushed ever so slightly, a rare show of guilt flickering across his features. He recently confessed to Deborah about his dealings with the notorious crime family.
"Wrong, my dear," he managed, a cocky grin tugging at his lips as he attempted to regain the upper hand. "I'm writing a movie script."
Deborah could have sworn her heart stopped for a brief moment. Her mobster fiance, writing a movie script? If she hadn't known him as well as she did, she would have pinched herself to wake from this surreal dream.
"Really?" she gasped, her voice laced with disbelief and curiosity.
Lorenzo nodded, his grin widening. "That's right, Deb. I've been meaning to tell you about this." He waved a hand at the legal pad in his hand, brimming with his messy scrawl. "It's a passion project of mine."
Deborah eyed him warily, not entirely sure if he was pulling her leg or not. "Alright, fine," she said, her hands on her hips, "Let me see it then."
Lorenzo slid the pad of paper across the desk, a smug grin on his face. "It's a work in progress, but it's called '12 Angry Men.' I was up all night working on it."
The title alone piqued her interest, and hesitantly, she took a seat across from him. As she began to read, her frown deepened, her focus shifting from her surroundings to the words before her. The script, while rough around the edges, had a certain raw, gritty charm to it that reminded her of the man before her.
Her eyes skimmed over the pages, taking in the tale of a group of jurors sequestered in a stuffy room, arguing over a murder trial. The dialogue was sharp, the tension palpable even on the page.
Finally, she looked up, her eyes shining with admiration. "Lorenzo… this is… this is good."
He ducked his head, smiling. "Thanks, Deb. I never… I never thought you'd actually read it."
"Well, I'm glad I did," she said, setting the script down. "It's a far cry from your usual business dealings, that's for sure."
After a moment of contemplation, Deborah spoke up, her voice soft but insistent. "You promised me, you know? Two years ago, before that war, you swore you'd leave the life of crime behind. With writing skills like these, you could make a living legally!" Her eyes shone with sincerity, hope, and a tinge of desperation.
Lorenzo sighed, his fingers tracing the curve of her jawline. "I know what you want for us, I do," he said, his voice thick with unspoken yearning. "I want to give you the world, Deb. I want to provide you with a life where you don't have to worry about money, or about me," he added, his gaze distant as if he were already living out their imagined future.
Deborah pulled away, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "We could live such a life, you know," she said, her voice trembling with the weight of her conviction. "I don't want to lose you to this life, Lorenzo. I can't."
Lorenzo's hands stilled in her hair, his breath catching in his chest. "I know," he said, his voice ragged with unspoken emotion. "But you should know, our world, it's not that simple. I know from the moment I stepped foot in the battlefield that this world was cursed and dangerous."
"The police! The government!" Deborah shot back, her desperation palpable. "They're supposed to protect us, right?"
Lorenzo's laugh was bitter as gall. "You think they'll care about ordinary civilians?"
Deborah felt the truth in Lorenzo's words as they settled around them, as heavy as the smoke-filled air. She knew he meant every single word, and part of her hated him for it. Her gaze drifted to the window, where the sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, casting a grimy light into their world.
Lorenzo cupped her face in his hands, his eyes intense and fierce. "I know what I've signed up for, Deb. I've made my bed, and I'll lie in it."
Deborah's lower lip trembled, but she refused to let the tears fall. Instead, she nodded, her gaze locked with his. "I want you to know that I'm with you, no matter what."
Lorenzo gently tilted her chin up, his gaze boring into hers. "I'll only leave this cursed world behind when I've made my mark, when I've carved out a place for us in the chaos. I'll not stop until the evils that lurk in the shadows can't touch the ones I love," he vowed, his voice steely with determination.
Deborah's eyes shone with unshed tears, her heart heavy and full of love at the same time. "I thought I'd stop worrying when you came back from the war in one piece, but I was so wrong," she managed, her voice trembling.
Lorenzo smiled, his dark eyes twinkling with an unwavering determination. "One day, we'll run this country," he said matter-of-factly, as if there was no other option.
Deborah couldn't help but laugh, her tears spilling over. "You're delusional," she said, but there was no heat in her words.
Lorenzo's grin only widened. "Just wait and see, my love. I'll make you my queen."
Deborah nudged him playfully, her cheeks flushing. "You're too much," she said, but the affection in her voice belied her words.
"No, I'm not," Lorenzo countered, his voice mock-offended. "You'll see."
"Alright, alright," she said, rolling her eyes. "But you'll be my king, too."
Lorenzo's smile softened, his gaze holding hers. "That's more like it."
Their moment was interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by Adam's voice.
"Boss, sorry to interrupt, but it's urgent."
Lorenzo sighed, his expression hardening. "I'm sorry, I gotta take this."
Deborah wiped her tears away, her heart pounding in her chest. "Go ahead, I understand."
Lorenzo pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before leaving the room, the smile still etched on his face.
ความคิดของผู้สร้าง 
NewComer714
NewComer714 Throw power stones on Lorenzo for being blasphemous.
สถานะพลังงานรายสัปดาห์
-- การจัดอันดับด้วยพลัง 
-- หินพลัง