Mr. Regnante

by Serena Light

  "Rosalie." He spoke warningly. "Take the gun."

  "I don't want to use it..."

  "Rosalie, take the fucking gun," Arcangelo growled as she jumped back in fright. "You don't have to use it, its precautionary measure."

  "B-but..."

  Grabbing hold of her hand, he placed the gun into her palm as she winced at the feel of the cold metal.

  "Now listen to me very carefully, Rosalie," Arcangelo spoke lowly, standing mere inches away from her as she nodded. "Your guards will take you to your parent's house and you will stay with them, alright? You will not leave the house under any circumstances, do you get that? The men will be there just in case, and you will keep the gun as a precautionary measure. I am not telling you to use it, but if the need arises, you cannot hesitate. A single moment's hesitation leads to death, and we cannot afford that. Once everything is over, your guards will bring you back."

  "Are we clear?" He demanded, his fingers coiling around her wrist as he slightly increased his pressure, letting her know that this wasn't a drill and that her life was actually hanging in the balance.

  "Yes, sir," She muttered quietly, lightly wincing at the way his fingers gripped her wrist.

  Arcangelo nodded, loosening his grip around her wrist as he placed a hand behind her head, placing a kiss on her forehead as she closed her eyes, the weight of the situation finally settling on her shoulders. "Stay safe, princess."

  Rosalie stepped out of the car, finally being allowed to walk around after a four-hour drive. Stretching her arms over her head, she made her way to the door, knocking as her mother greeted her with a broad smile, hugging her daughter close.

  "Mia figlia," Her mother spoke as she kissed her daughter's temple, pulling her into the house where she greeted her father and 19-year-old brother. They had a very enthusiastic reunion, sitting on the couch and talking as if though Rosalie's boyfriend wasn't out starting a war for her.

  Throughout the time that she spoke, her mind kept wondering how Arcangelo was doing and if he was alright or injured or worse. She tried not to think about it, but her mind kept drifting back to how he was.

  The uncertainty of the whole situation had her feel sick, her face paling as she realized that she never even told him how much she loved him and she had so many things to say to him and now it was possible that she was too late.

  "Rosalie, pumpkin?" Her father called out at the dining table, jolting her out of her thoughts. "Are you alright?"

  "I'm fine, papa." She assured with a smile, trying to wipe away the angst she felt. "Could you pass me the potatoes?" She asked her brother across from her.

  Holding out the bowl for her, she reached out to grab it as her father caught sight of something, his eyes widening as he stared at his daughter in disbelief. She had just put the bowl down when her father grabbed her arm, startling her as he pushed back her sleeve, staring at the white 'x' marring her forearm.

  "You've been marked?" Her father demanded as she pulled back her arm, covering it up again as her mother and brother looked at her in confusion. "Why didn't you tell me!?"

  "It doesn't matter," Rosalie murmured quietly. "It's being taken care off."

  "Yeah? How?!"

  "I'm in a witness protection programme and they know where to find the people."

  "Dio mio!" Her father spoke as he gripped his hair in desperation. "It's all my fault."

  "Dad, wha-" she started to ask in confusion before her phone rang, showing Arcangelo's contact name pop up.

  Instantly attending the call, she placed the phone to her ear.

  "Hello?"

  "It's a trap!" Arcangelo exclaimed into the phone, hurrying towards his car as he wiped the blood from his faces smearing it all over his cheek. "Rosalie! They were after you not because of your affiliation with me, but to your father!"

  "Wha-?" He heard Rosalie ask before he cut her off.

  "No time to explain, I need you to lock all doors and windows and stay in a room. Tell your dad to load up because I just handed you to the enemy on a golden platter." He rushed out as he sat behind the wheel, slamming the door shut as he struggled to get the keys in the ignition.

  "Arcangelo, what are you saying? I can't hear you." She exclaimed as his voice kept cutting off. Suddenly, he heard shots ring off on the other line, his heart stopping in his chest as he instantly froze up. Screams followed the sound of the shots as Arcangelo couldn't breathe.

  "Rosalie...." he rasped out, finally finding his voice again as he got no response from the other line besides the screaming and the shooting.

  "Rosalie!"

  Chapter XXXIV: Bleeding out

  The gaping wound to Arcangelo's side gave him trouble throughout. He felt pain and he had to hold on. He was even sure of losing quite a bit of blood, but that flow was obstructed by the bandage coiled around his torso. He couldn't remember most of the drive since it was all such a blur of whizzing scenery, wiping sweat out of his eyes, driving through the haze of pain and the constant thundering of his heart. He was extremely lucky for it to be a non-fatal wound, but that did not mean he was alright.

  He would live, that much was certain.

  Unless...he went into shock.

  That thought didn't even cross his mind as him and his men all skidded to a stop before the Allegro's household. With a pained grunt, he pulled himself out the car and closed the door, tenderly coddling his side.

  "Boss, I don't think-" Major started to protest as Arcangelo held up a hand to silence him.

  He looked at the scene before him.

  One of Rosalie's guards lying in the driveway with his neck twisted in a grotesque fashion, his eyes wide with surprise and just as dead.

  Inhaling deeply, Arcangelo bit back the cry of pain as he realized he even had a broken rib, perhaps even a dislocated shoulder with the searing pain to his collarbone. Limping forward, he watched as two men went to the dead guard, others following him.

  Three men went through the kicked down door before him, Arcangelo following behind despite Gun's protests of the area not having been cleared.

  The scene made him sick.

  There ware bullet casing littering the floor, glass shards everywhere as the furniture was riddled with holes. The table had been upturned, seemingly having been used as protection given the splintering of the wood. Plates, bowls and wine glasses lay across the floor as nothing more than remnants and not a single living soul was in sight.

  Then again, neither was there any drop of blood visible so far.

  "Sir!" A voice called from somewhere as Arcangelo's gaze shot up. "Found the parents and brother."

  "Are they alright?" Arcangelo called back, struggling to keep composure with the white hotness spreading through him.

  "The mother and brother had been locked up, and the father is knocked out. All three are unharmed!"

  "Then where's Rosalie?" He muttered to himself as he saw the signs of a struggle leading towards the staircase.

  Grabbing hold of the banister, Arcangelo heaved himself up, the pain intensifying with every move that he made. He felt his hands become clammy against the wooden structure. His heart beating erratically as a sense of foreboding overcame him, his breathing increasing as he didn't know if it was due to the fear of the unknown, or the anxiety of the possibilities.

  If he didn't know any better, he'd say he was bleeding again.

  He saw the blood by the second last step. A few drops, like a punch to the nose. As he walked forward, his head started to spin and he could have sworn the floor shifted beneath his feet. With a startled gasp, he held onto the wall, both Major and Gun stepping forward and supporting him.

  "Sir, please..." One of them pleaded, his voice sounding distant to Arcangelo's ears.

  "Rosalie..." he muttered in remembrance, swatting them away before trailing his blood-soaked hand across the wall until he arrived at the door opening.

  The room must have been her bedroom because it had a touch of her and smelt of her perfume. But it also smelt
of death and blood. Resisting the instinct to gag, Arcangelo noticed the feet of the second guard, half of his body hidden by the bed.

  Struggling to stand straight, Arcangelo's head spun as he stumbled forward. He watched the dead guard, trailing up from his feet and tried to find the cause of death. However, the pool of blood around his head was a clear indication of a bullet to the head.

  In that pool of blood, a single shoe was bathed. Looking up, he noticed the paleness of her skin, the way she had a gun grasped in her fingers and blood blossomed from her chest, her hand pressing down on the wound to stem the blood flow.

  "Princess..." Arcangelo choked as he fell to his knees before her, his pain residing in the back of his mind as he cupped her ashen face into his blood-soaked hands. "Hey, princess..."

  "You came..." She wheezed, giving him a teasing smile through her suffering. "You missed the fight."

  "But you held your own." He spoke as tears gathered in his eyes, seeing how she was struggling to hold on and how her clothes were smeared with blood, her breathing irregular and her face as pale as a sheet.

  "Mom...dad...?"

  "They're all fine," Arcangelo grunted as he slid his arms beneath her, trying to lift her off the floor. "We need to get you...to a hospital."

  "You're hurt." She noted by the grunt he let out as he stood with her in his arms, a soundless cry escaping him as everything hit him with a gut-wrenching force.

  He staggered around with her in his arms, both Major and Gun rushing towards them as they realized that he was going to collapse.

  Everything seemed to slow down as Arcangelo collided with the floor, Rosalie falling out of his hold as both of them lay in silent torment. He tried to regain his breathing, turning to look at his girlfriend who looked like she was about to give up with her eyes fluttering to a close, her face losing color with each second and her hand loosening its pressure on her wound. She offered him a meager smile as he tried to reach out to her, his entire body working against him and screaming in pain.

  He couldn't even manage to lift a finger, much less reach out to her before his vision turned black, his body giving out due to the agony it had been put through.

  The first thing he registered after regaining consciousness was the incessant beeping around his head. Then was the feeling of something against his mouth. Arcangelo struggled to open his eyes, moving them behind his eyelids before opening them a crack, the intensity of the light having him groan and wince in pain.

  "Sir?" He heard a voice to his right. Struggling to get his eyes open, he realized he was in a hospital room, and that beeping was actually his heart.

  "Oh, thank God." Major heaved a breath of relief as he noticed him to be conscious.

  With a grunt of effort, he struggled to get up, both his guards helping him with the action as Arcangelo removed the oxygen mask around his face. One of them handed him a glass of water as the other told him the damage.

  "A single gunshot wound to the side, one fractured rib, and the other broken due to the repeated hits you sustained to your ribcage. One dislocated shoulder which has been set right. Also, you might have frequent headaches due to the constant encounter with the walls and floors."

  "The Allegros?" Arcangelo asked hoarsely, clearing his throat.

  "All three received a full physical," Major informed professionally. "The brother sustained a broken arm, the father a bruised jaw and a hit to the back of his head and the mother is physically unharmed except for the mental trauma."

  "Rosalie?" Arcangelo demanded instantly, all memories flooding back as instant panic welled inside him.

  "She received a blow to the head and a single gunshot wound to her chest," Gun spoke softly after seeing how Major refused to speak up regarding her status.

  "How's she doing?" He continued as he struggled to get out of bed, Major helping him since they knew it was a futile attempt to talk him out of this.

  "We can't say..." Gun trailed uneasily. "She's still in surgery."

  "Still?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "How long I have been out?"

  "A couple of hours."

  "Time!"

  "Six hours, sir."

  "And she went into the O.R the same time I did?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Major, get me some clothes," Arcangelo demanded as he was instantly handed a pair of jeans with a long-sleeved shirt and a hood. Quickly getting dressed in the clothes handed; the doctors and nursed rushed in when he tore off the wires connecting him to the machinery, all of them telling him he can't leave without being discharged.

  "I am not leaving," Arcangelo grunted as he limped towards the doors, Major and Gun refusing anyone to hold him back. "I'm shifting to the waiting room."

  The doctors didn't have a choice but to let him go to the waiting rooms since they couldn't hold him down or anything.

  He made his way to the waiting room, seeing the father cradling his head as he rocked back and forth, the mother praying silently with tears streaming down her face and the brother sitting rather stoically. The first time he was meeting his girlfriend's family, and it was like this. With a grunt he settled down in the empty seat beside the mother, stretching out his leg as he held his abused side, still in pain.

  "Major," Arcangelo called out as they guard instantly stood to attention. "Got them a cup of coffee, they look like they need it."

  The mother sniffled before offering him a watery smile. "That is very kind of you good sir. Thank you."

  It was a surprise the mother found it in her to speak after what they had been put through, but it seemed to get her mind off things as he gave her a curt nod in response.

  "I'm Donna." She introduced with a sniffle. "This is my husband, Bernardo and our son, Davide."

  "Pleasure meeting you, Donna," Arcangelo grunted as he stretched out his arm to shake her hand. "I'm Arcangelo."

  They settled into a tense and worried silence before Major returned with four coffee mugs. Handing one to Arcangelo, he handed the other three to the Allegros, all of them greedily taking the cups as if though it was exactly what they needed.

  "Thank you." The brother muttered quietly as he leaned forward to look at Arcangelo who gave a nod in response, waving his hand dismissively before resting it on his side once more. "You're injured."

  "Yes."

  "What happened?" The young teen, Davide, asked curiously, seemingly looking for distractions.

  "A really bad fight,"

  "Ouch. How bad?"

  "Bad enough to land me in the hospital,"

  Davide nodded in understanding before leaning back in his seat, sipping the cup of coffee, grateful for the hot beverage as a silence lulled over the four of them. The lack of people was a surprise, it was only the four of them and two other people in the waiting room. Well, the time could account for the lack of rush and Arcangelo had to wonder why the other two people were here and whom they were waiting for.

  "Who are you waiting for?" Bernardo, the father, finally spoke up in a deep rumbling voice once he was halfway done with his coffee. "Another mate of your's that also suffered in the fight?"

  "No..." Arcangelo had to chuckle. "I'm actually waiting for the love of my life to get out of surgery."

  "Oh." Mr. Allegro realized with a surprised expression. "I'm sorry to hear that."

  "It's alright." He assured with a polite nod. "She's a tough girl, can handle her own in a fight."

  "Wife?"

  "Girlfriend," Arcangelo shook his head. "Whom I hope to make my wife,"

  "May God be with you," Mr. Allegro spoke with a reassuring look, and Arcangelo had to squirm.

  "I don't mean to be disrespectful to your religion sir." He started, sitting up straight as he looked at the man who stared back with a quizzical look. "But, God wasn't with me when I was first shot in the abdomen and found myself in her car, holding her at gunpoint so she took me to my men. God wasn't there when my best friend nearly choked the life out of her in demands for the information she never
had. God wasn't there when I went to check on her after a major surgery. God wasn't there when she had to face trauma in the dead of night with no comfort whatsoever. God wasn't there when she wept and begged, asking 'why me?' God wasn't there when she got assaulted on her way back home, being left with a permanent reminder of the night..."

  "God wasn't there when my doctors patched her up. He wasn't there when she was physically terrified of me. He wasn't there when she made her way into the hearts of my niece and nephew. He wasn't there when she made her way into my heart. He wasn't there at the training I put her through in fear of a repeated occurrence. He wasn't there when her friends broke off contact because, I quote, "we don't recognize you anymore". God wasn't there when she suffered through all that she did and still remained as strong as she has. God wasn't there when she would come to me in search of comfort."

  "God wasn't there when I told her about all the sins I have committed. God didn't make her stay. God didn't make her pursue a matter I had long left. God wasn't there when I had a major falling out with my best friend of over twenty years...."

  "God wasn't there, but she sure as hell was."

  "So instead do saying 'may God be with you', Mr. Allegro, say 'may she be with you'."

  The three stared at him in pure shock at his open blasphemy. He was born to a Catholic mother, but that did not mean he himself was a Catholic. He did not believe in the concept of God. Call him a heathen if you will, but he wasn't going to put all the good and bad of his life in the hands of a higher power no one has ever seen, but blindly believe in.

  "Once more, Mr. and Mrs. Allegro, forgive me for my blasphemy, but I do not believe in a higher power. I do, on the other hand, believe in her."

  The family sat back quietly, a tense silence washing over them as they could not enforce their religious views on a man his age. They were rather open-minded, but this was the first time they've actually encountered an atheist.

  "Y-you...." the brother stammered, seemingly realizing something. "My mum told you our first names, not our surnames."

  The parents also grasped that he had referred to them as 'Mr. and Mrs. Allegro' rather than their first names and they had not divulged that information.