His fingers played with the beads of the chain of the cross. He watches everything from the floor above. The pastor performed the mass and after that the charity was distributed. The charity that was organised by him.
His eyes moved to everyone who left and then descended down from the stairs. The pasta turns to him with a smile on his face even though he knew that he was greeting one of the deadliest men to walk on the earth.
"Good afternoon," the pastor nodded at the man, "was everything upto the mark?"
Salvatore did not smile back. "It was your job to begin with."
The pastor's eyes move to a dangling cross in his hands. It was black in colour and he could tell that it was custom made.
"Do you not wear it on your neck?" The question came out of curiosity.
