by Anthology
“Don’t you think about having one more chance to see her again to make amends to get her back?”
“Yeah, all the time. I know that if I saw her, I’d tell her one thing. I’d tell her I’m sorry for ever breaking her heart.” He fixes me with a look and I feel exposed under it. “Which I’m guessing is what’s in that suicide letter with Amelia’s name on it.”
I look over to the dresser where the letter sets and I feel my heart begin to thud. Those three words would’ve been the final things I got to say to her and they would never have amounted to what it was I really wanted to say to her. They were just the beginning – three small words with so much potency, but not enough force to them.
“It doesn’t say a lot...” I mutter, trailing off.
“But speaks volumes I bet,” Enzo assumes, looking a little self-righteous he knows me. “You have one choice left now,” Enzo says, staggering to get to his feet after sitting on the hard flooring. “You know that, right?”
“I do?” I ask, cocking a brow. “What’s that then?”
“You fight harder.” His statement is say matter of fact, and without room for an argument. “Killing Giovanni wouldn’t have just done us a favor, it would have made Sal look at how serious you were. Beating him just made Sal give you a chance.” He gives me a wink. “Fight for her, Zane. If you love her, even Sal won’t stop you anymore. Not even that gun would stop you.”
“I don’t know...” I doubt, shaking my head.
“Don’t do anything rash,” he tells me, sitting on the bed once more. “Leave it a few weeks because Sal is waiting for you to strike again. I know it’s not the best life, but live in the shadows and don’t make any ripples, and then you hit him harder than ever.”
“I don’t know,” I repeat my prior sentence, trailing off once more.
“What do you have to lose?” he asks me, cocking a brow. “You’ve already reached rock bottom, the only way is up.”
***
The moment I felt the heat rip through my body, I knew I was in trouble.
My hands instinctively came to my stomach, even as a more gun fire was heard and I felt another bullet rip through my leg. I collapsed in that moment, but took the time to push myself backwards, my hand pushed firmly to one of the gunshot wounds to my stomach. I retreated until I could sit myself up, but as soon as I’ve done that I’m greeted with the leering features of the bastard who shot me and Billy.
“Please,” I beg, feeling myself getting weaker than ever. ”Please, there’s no need to do this.”
“No need to do this?” he asks, chortling at me. “Maverick, there’s every reason we did this. You fell in love with the wrong girl. The boss doesn’t appreciate his own falling for a cop. You’re a dirty pig.”
“Stop taunting and finish the fucking job,” the other gunman comments.
“No, no,” the man before me mocks. ”I think he should bleed out. Boss always likes them messy.”
“Please,” I say, feeling my eyes welling up from the pain. “Help us.”
“You’re a filthy cop,” he snarls. “Getting you and ‘ole Billy over there was two birds and one stone. We don’t tolerate your type in our line of duty.” He laughs in my face, clearly enjoying his hand in this too much. “Remember that Amelia, won’t you? She’ll probably be called to identify your body in the midnight hour.”
I grab onto him, wrapping my fingers around his collar with all my mite. How dare he fucking bring her up?!
“I am going to kill you,” I snarl, while my teeth grind together, my weakness doesn’t allow me to pack the power into my threat. “You’ll see me again.”
The man laughs, but doesn’t react verbally. Instead, he lashes out, a fist hitting me square in the stomach, immobilizing me instantaneously. I yelp in pain, my vision blurs and fills with black spots as my body becomes overwhelmed with pain.
“You won’t make it an hour, cunt,” he warns, pulling away from entirely. “You’re both getting what to deserve thinking you can interfere in the Dio Lavoro.”
With that said I watch them leave entirely. My head lulls to the side and I see Billy sprawled out on the floor, bleeding out. I try to be quick, but my limbs don’t want to move so fast, as I make haste to get my cell from my pocket. I haphazardly dial for nine-one-one and move the cell phone to my ear. As the dispatcher answers, I tell her two officers are down and give her our location before I feel every piece of my energy deplete. My phone falls and crashes to the floor as I give up even trying.
It’s sitting here, that I start I stare off, unable to move, and I find my mind travelling to one thought – Amelia. Her bright green eyes suddenly are staring me, so full of life, so vibrant with passion. Her cheeky grin, her seductive, infectious laughter wraps around me and I smile faintly.
I don’t need my life to flash before my eyes when it’s her that I only see.
She’s the perfect memory to die with.
“Amelia.”
Her name unravels from my throat, the most blissful last word I could ever dream of.
She’s the sweetness of memories a man could be blessed with in his dying hour.
But she’s also one a greedy man would fight to live for.
I have no other choice but the latter.
CHAPTER TWELVE
AMELIA
I SOON TOOK every emotion I had rushing around my body in that overpowering fleeting manner and morphed it into something else. I channeled it together – all of the hurt, the hate, the regret, the love, the lust – and made it into something else.
The Femme Fatale Reloaded.
There will only a few people who would like what I was becoming and a lot more people back home that wouldn’t. While the decision had been almost as instant as the kiss with Lorenzo, the transformation was far slower and gradual. I continued to hold onto my resistance and virtue of hate, but then slowly I started doing things. Things like taking out that asshole who dared to mention my family and Zane in the same breath. I started to involve myself in jobs more, have something to say at meetings, but that wouldn’t prepare Alberto for my grandest show of how much I want to be a part of my family and all they stand for.
They all tell me what I should or shouldn't be. They cuss at me, mock me, and even misunderstand me but that's their fault, not mine. I was made in my mother's eyes, hold her beauty and for the most part, have her wisdom and grace, but I am not without my faults, I am also my father's child. That means I'm irrational, compulsive and sometimes have absolutely no idea how to love without breaking boundaries. For that reason, I'm fearless and destructive.
I've accepted myself for the romantic I am, for the protector I become and for the destructive element I seem to be within my family.
It's time every other fucker does the same.
And with it, comes the ability to show every bastardo in this house just what an heir of Salvatore Abbiati is capable of – whether she likes it or not.
"Let me kill a man," I say to Alberto, forcing myself up onto the counter top in the kitchen. I grab an apple from the fruit bowl, take a bite and act as if nothing is amiss. "What?"
Alberto's shock gives way to a great smile. "You want to kill a man?"
"Yes," I say, nodding at him. "Give me your least favorite man and let me work my magic... the Femme Fatale way."
"How can I trust you?"
"You can't," I state wryly. "But that's not an issue, because I'm good when it comes to killing someone. It's become a forte of mine really."
While he seems too thoughtful about the matter, slowly but surely, Alberto’s lips begin to curl up and I know he’s feeling like he’s won this one. I’ll let him have it. Hell, I’ll even help the matter at hand.
“I think it’s time I forget about the heartbreak and think solely of family,” I muse, forcing my sincerity. “After all, this will be mine one day.”
“That’s true,” he agrees, looking back at his paper. “But still stands the issue that you’re a traitor in the eyes of the Dio
Lavoro, child. How the hell do I trust a girl like you to do the job of a man?”
“Don’t doubt me, Alberto,” I growl, watching him. “You have a party tonight… give me a list of men you’ve waited to deal with and I’ll make a spectacle of one of them for you all tonight.”
My mind reverts back to a party my father had, what feels a lifetime ago, where I single-handedly killed a man while we waited for the first course to be served. Sure, it wasn’t pretty and I was as shocked as everyone else, but I managed to slip something into his drink without anyone but myself and my father knowing.
That was when I wanted to appease my father. That dirty need doesn’t exist quite so powerfully anymore. It crashed and burnt when I learned how he had deceived me in order to make me a killer and not his daughter. Right now, I’m merely surviving the throes of life.
“So, Alberto,” I start, leaning in towards him as if it’ll show my excitement. “What do you say?”
“Fine.”
“I just want one thing,” I say, a bit too quickly.
He cocks a brow, his eyes boring into mine. “What’s that?”
“I want them to have a real reason to die,” I admonish, arguing for that fact. If I’m going against myself to fit in, I want to know I’m not just a serial killer. “I’m not going to become a pawn for you like I did with my father. I will not be played the fucking fool by either of you two. If I’m going to kill any men, I want them to have a reason.”
“Oh, I have many men who have reason,” he tells me, eagerness raveling around him.
“Good,” I say, jumping down from the counter. “I’ll show you how well I can work.”
You've got to fake it till you make it. Or so I've started telling myself.
If I'm going to be stuck in this hellish heaven, then I'm going to make sure that Alberto starts to regret every single God awful moment of it. He may think I’m on his side at long last, but I’m not even close.
Why?
Because sometimes a girl needs to just not give a fuck.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ZANE
YOU KNOW THAT quote, time heals all wounds?
For once, I can say it’s true.
I’ve lived a life of low key existence, allowed the weeks to lapse by to really focus myself. At first, I craved being a part of the Dio Lavoro, needed Salvatore’s attention, wanted to be there ready for Amelia’s arrival.
Not now.
I still want to be there, prepared for Amelia to come home but I’ve told myself that my priorities need to change. In order to get the girl, I have to win her father over. However, now I’m stronger, more capable of making rational thoughts and less likely to be a loose cannon, I know I can achieve this.
However, my plan isn’t a clean one.
I heeded Enzo’s advice, listened to his wisdom and even had his help getting myself standing on my own two feet. He knew I was planning something huge, something that Sal couldn’t refuse to pay attention to, but he didn’t know when or how I was going to strike.
Today’s the day I set things into motion.
It’s been nearly four months since that fateful night I broke Amelia’s heart and all it’s done is strengthen the fact that I will fight for her. Lingering in the shadows of my former life hasn’t caused me to loathe what has become of me, because I know that somehow there is reason why things have happened.
Loving Amelia was a blood sport; I’ve always known that. It’s what I feared the most, but now it doesn’t even matter to me. I would love her through all the pain, all of the misdeeds. I would love her unequivocally because this was our chance. It was the only chance I had left.
“You’re looking pensive,” Enzo comments, breaking me from my thoughts. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” I reply, too quickly.
“You’re getting ready, aren’t you?” he says, sitting up. “Zane, when?”
“Never you mind when,” I tell him, shrugging at how unimportant him knowing is. “I just think it’s time Amelia came home, don’t you?”
I watch the corners of Enzo’s mouth begin to curl up, clearly satisfied by the idea. I know he’s missed his sister and I know that all of his fighting to gain access to her has been futile. Her absence has affected all of us so gravely that I am sick of seeing the brothers look like they’re missing a part of themselves by not having her around.
“How are you going to convince Sal that it’s time?”
I laughed, it’s more a breathy exhale of how mirthful my thoughts are than a direct chortle, but I grin a little, feeling the wickedness manifesting in me.
“You better not be planning another suicide mission...”
“I’ve survived those twice, I’ll survive it a third time,” I muse back, feeling settled with my decisions. “You see, I’m beginning to believe three is my lucky number. I’ve met you father twice, my third time will be the most perfect. I’ve had the opportunity to kill myself twice, the third time will be the third and final time I attempt it and survive, and I’ve had a chance to love Amelia and ruined it on two occasions... my third chance won’t have an end because it won’t be ending.”
“You’re speaking like a lucky man,” he observes, rubbing his jaw as he begins to sit back.
“I won’t lose this time, Enzo.” I glance down at my watch and begin to grin. “Believe me, I’m going to make an impression.”
“Do I get any clues?” he asks, looking curious.
“Nope,” I deny him, shaking my head. “I just suggest you sleep lightly tonight.”
“Seriously, you can’t keep me out of the loop!” Enzo exclaims, but it hardens my need to hide him from this plan. “I’ve been here practically every day, you can’t cut me out this now!”
“Go home, Enzo,” I tell him. I stand up, reaching into my pocket for a twenty dollar bill and I toss it onto the table. “Believe me, you’ll want to be surprised.”
The real fight for my girl starts tonight.
***
In the midnight hour, I find the architecture before me to be quite haunting. While it’s grand in size, it’s magnificent in power. I guess the house had to match those who live in it, but this place is formidable. It’s captivating and awe inspiring, but it also plants a seed of doubt. While standing on its own with no other properties immediately nearby, the Abbiati mansion tells the stories of too many lifetimes that have come and gone.
Tonight I’ll be adding my own.
I mentally prepare myself as I make a shape working its way down the drive towards me. The iron gates begin to open and he comes into view better. Finishing my drink, I drop the empty can of beer to my feet, lifting my foot to stomp onto it. I feel the metal give under my weight, crumpling it into a flattened misshapen mess.
He’s a large man, clearly sent out to deter me from loitering around, but it makes this moment even sweeter.
“Oi!” I hear, but I stay leaning against my car. “Can’t park here.”
“There are no signs to say otherwise,” I say, deliberately trying my luck.
“C’mere you little asshole,” he says coming towards me. He advances for me quicker than I expected and he grabs me by my collar, pulling me away from my car. It’s as we enter a little more light his faces changes, clearly recognizing me. “Didn’t think we’d be seeing your mug around here anytime soon.”
“Bided my time,” I say, punching him in the stomach just to get him to release me.
He reacts by nailing a punch directly on my jaw, jarring my teeth together. It stuns me, allowing him to get another punch in, but I waste no time. I land a fisted punch to his stomach, raising my knee to his groin and cause him to stumble backwards. He forces himself to recover quickly and begins to come back at me.
“Wouldn’t think about it,” I say, grabbing my gun from the back of my jeans.
I aim my gun at him, causing him to keep his distance from me, but this doesn’t stop what I’m about to do. It just makes it easier for me to do it. I curl my
finger around the trigger, but before the chamber can release anything, I lower the gun and unload one of the bullets I had reserved for myself weeks prior to this. I listen to him scream as the red hot metal of the bullet penetrates his skin, lodging into his kneecap, disabling him instantly.
“You shot me!” he squeals, panicking as his knee begins to pour with blood.
“That was just to wake them all up,” I say, tossing my gun aside. “I just needed you on your knees for this.”
“Please!” he says, putting his hands up. He knows he’s defenseless, unable to stand for fear of doing more damage. “I’ll get you into the house. I’ll do anything.”
“Does Salvatore know he hired a man who fears death?” I ask, creeping forward. “Because I know how the Dio Lavoro works and weak men aren’t part of that. I know that fact well. I also know that your life is meant to begin and end with Salvatore, but you seem to have forgotten that.”
“You shot me!” he says, his voice heightening with fear. “What else do you expect of me?!”
I just smirk, reaching behind my back for the penknife in my back pocket. I pull it out and allow my arms to fall to my side. I prepare to push the button to reveal the blade, but I revel in the fear I’m able to execute in this man.
“You know this won’t do anything,” he attempts to bargain with me. Even though he’s clearly in pain, he refuses to give into me. “Sal is a very difficult man to work with. Killing me won’t do anything to make him want a meeting with him.”
“You won’t be the only body I leave behind then,” I tell him, deciding to strike.
It’s as I stalk closer, I allow the blade to come free and leave no time for him to realize what I’m planning before I slam the knife into his stomach, hoping my angling nicks his lung.
The good cop that I reveled in for years disintegrates as I sin for the first and worst time ever.