Got Myself A Gun Sopranos Dramas & Movies

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My father was one of the first dons to rise out of the Naples mob. My mother was an iron-fisted businesswoman with a reputation that made grown men flinch. When I was ten, somebody had the nerve to hijack one of my father's freight ships. He had the man's arms and legs broken with a crowbar, then stuffed a handful of gold rings down his throat — told him to count his money while he crawled. When I was fifteen, some scheming woman tried to get her claws into my father. My mother hired the filthiest pimps off the docks, shipped her down to a back-alley bar in Marseille, and told her to make her own way. And me — I grew up running the streets of Naples like I owned them. The sons of every other family knew to call me Miss Ferrante and keep their hands to themselves. Then I met him. A rough, quiet man fresh out of the army. For him I put down the knives, traded the silk for plain cotton, and followed him back to that little nothing of a coastal town, Porto Scuro. Today my mother-in-law and my husband went down to the dock warehouses to settle a dispute. They held her face down in a barrel of rotting fish guts. They kicked in three of his ribs. I stared at the salt fish I'd been slicing on the kitchen board, let out a cold laugh, and brought the knife down so hard the oak split in half. Then I dialed my father's private line.

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Sylvie, once the ace assassin of the revolutionary army, was tamed and abused by a general as a "mad dog." While on the run, she was taken in by a priest, but betrayal led to a massacre in the church and the priest's brutal death. She rescued the young Benny, using her body and her skills in killing to forge him into a lethal weapon. Over the next ten years, their bond deepened from master and apprentice, to master and slave, to soulmates—together, they hunted down the general and his political backers. In the end, Benny died shielding her; Sylvie alone stormed the enemy's stronghold, slew her nemesis, then carried his corpse to the shore and cut her own throat, joining him in death.

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My girlfriend was a police officer. One day, I got kidnapped, and the explosives on my body were ten minutes away from detonating when the kidnappers ordered me to call her. Instead of worry, all I got was relentless scorn and a tongue-lashing. "Caleb, are you seriously doing this right now? How could you be so petty and jealous when a life is on the line?! Lucas' cat is in danger. It has been stuck on a tree for three days, and that cat is as important to him as his own life! "If I don't save them in time, you'll be the one at fault!" Over the line, I heard the voice of a young man that sounded, to my ears, anything but genuine. "Thank you Jamie, you're the best!" That man was my girlfriend's childhood friend, Lucas White. Before the bomb exploded, I sent her a final message. [I hope we never see each other again. Not in this life, and not in the next.

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After being reborn, I stop asking questions about what my husband, Giulio Panzeri, does with his childhood friend, Camilla Messina. I let Camilla summon him away from my side again and again. She calls him in tears, saying, "I'm scared, Giulio… I heard gunshots outside the estate, and Nico is crying in fear. Can you come over to keep us company?" Even as Giulio hesitates, I thoughtfully hand him his jacket and tell him, "Quick. Go to them. They must be terrified." Giulio pauses in his tracks and looks at me with a complicated gaze. The old me would've teared up, bursting with emotions as I questioned him who was more important to him, us or them. But now that I've been reborn, I warmly and gently go along with everything he does. Once my daughter, Romina Panzeri, receives her kidney transplant, I'll take her with me and leave him for good.

3.7K Views1.3K Favorites43 Full Episodes

My father was one of the first dons to rise out of the Naples mob. My mother was an iron-fisted businesswoman with a reputation that made grown men flinch. When I was ten, somebody had the nerve to hijack one of my father's freight ships. He had the man's arms and legs broken with a crowbar, then stuffed a handful of gold rings down his throat — told him to count his money while he crawled. When I was fifteen, some scheming woman tried to get her claws into my father. My mother hired the filthiest pimps off the docks, shipped her down to a back-alley bar in Marseille, and told her to make her own way. And me — I grew up running the streets of Naples like I owned them. The sons of every other family knew to call me Miss Ferrante and keep their hands to themselves. Then I met him. A rough, quiet man fresh out of the army. For him I put down the knives, traded the silk for plain cotton, and followed him back to that little nothing of a coastal town, Porto Scuro. Today my mother-in-law and my husband went down to the dock warehouses to settle a dispute. They held her face down in a barrel of rotting fish guts. They kicked in three of his ribs. I stared at the salt fish I'd been slicing on the kitchen board, let out a cold laugh, and brought the knife down so hard the oak split in half. Then I dialed my father's private line.