The Don and His Angel

Chapter 3

TW: violence

When I get home there are a couple of SUVs parked out front. I really hope that Marco and his friends aren't drinking inside. They don't get particularly violent usually, but they are a rowdy bunch I'd have to clean up after.

Walking into the house, something seems off. It should be loud, there should be talking and music and sports playing in the background. But it is dead silent. Nothing is out of place as I walk through the first floor.

"Marco?" I call out.

There's no response other than a loud thud from upstairs. I grab my pistol from my purse and make my way up, careful to avoid the creaky step.

"Marco?" I call out again when I get to the top of the stairs. There are muffled voices in his room. The door opens and my eyes widen in shock.

Marco is tied up on a kitchen chair in the middle of his bedroom with blood trickling down his face. It's obvious that the other men in the room put him in this state. And while yes, I grew up in the mob and I am very capable when it comes to fighting, both with my fists and with weapons, I've never had to actually fight before. Not like this.

"Who the fuck are you?" One of the men asks, stepping in front of the doorway. His wide frame blocks my view and I glare up at him. I point my gun but before I can do much more he's taken it right out of my hands.

"That's her!" I hear Marco weakly call out. The man in front of me looks me up and down before licking his lips.

"The sorella," the man says with a smile that sends shivers down my spine, and not the good kind. He roughly grabs my arm and pulls me into Marco's room.
(Sister)

"You're sure this is how you want to go about this?" one of the other men asks Marco.

My brother meets my gaze and his eyes are full of emotion. Fear, pain, guilt, regret. I can't for the life of me figure out what the hell is going on. I recognize the tattoo on one of the men's necks as the DiSilva family crest, meaning these men are in the same family as us. This just doesn't make sense.

"Just do it," Marco says finally, looking at the ground.

"Do what? Marco, what's going on?" I ask, frantically pulling against the grip on my arm.

"I'm sorry Vic," he says, shaking his head.

"What did you do?" I ask just barely above a whisper.

"I didn't have anything else to offer," he replies, still refusing to meet my eyes.

"Marco what the fuck did you do?" I scream. The other men in the room all jump a little, surprised by my sudden anger. The man holding me lessens his grip and I'm able to elbow him in the gut and pull away. I stalk over to my brother and bend down so he's forced to look at me.

"I'm so sorry Vic," he says as tears stream down his cheeks.

"Marco, you need to tell me what you did," I say in a pointedly calm tone.

"I fucked up and," he takes a deep breath, as if trying to find the courage.

"He sold you," the man who was holding me says.

"What?" I whip my head towards the man who just shrugs in response. I turn back to my brother who once again won't look me in the eye.

"Are you fucking kidding me Marco?" I exclaim, straightening myself up.

"I didn't have a-" he starts but I cut him off.

"You didn't have a choice? Really? You couldn't figure out any other way to pay off a goddamned debt? I'm not even part of the life and you fucking know that! What is wrong with you?" I yell in his face.

Before he can answer, my rage takes over and I punch him in the cheek. The ring I wear breaks the skin and a new trail of blood appears. One of the men makes a sound of approval and it irks me more than I'd like to admit.

"You know what? Fuck this," I decide as I walk towards the door.

The man from before stops me. When I struggle against his grip on my arm he wraps his entire arm around my body and holds me flush to his chest.

"Can't let you do that Cagna," he whispers in my ear. I grimace but say nothing. My eyes lock with the man who proudly wears the crest on his neck.
(Bitch)

"How much does he owe? I'll pay it off," I ask.

"He owes more than you'd make in your whole life," the man holding me answers.

"And his debt is not just money," the man with the tattoo adds, "it's about omertà."

He smacks Marco in the head with the butt of his gun and Marco falls unconscious. He stalks towards me and I desperately pull against the vice hold I'm in. He stops, maybe a foot away, and lifts his gun to my head. I close my eyes, I don't want to see whatever it is he's about to do.

But instead of shooting me or even striking me, he gently caresses my face with the tip of his gun.

"Non pensavo che fosse così carina," the man with the gun states.
(I didn't expect her to be so pretty)

"Cosa dovremmo fare con lei?" The man holding me asks.
(What are we supposed to do with her?)

"Pantiamola al Don" the man with the gun answers.
(Bring her to the boss)

The gun is removed from my face and I slowly open my eyes. They are full of tears that I hadn't noticed until now.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask, my voice shaking.

"Marco broke omertà and offered you as collateral for the boss," the man with the tattoo says.

Before I can even begin to process that, the man holding me tosses me over his shoulder and they begin leaving my house. I kick and scream and punch and even bite but the man will not put me down.

I am thrown into the back of one of the SUVs. The man with the tattoo gets in front and peels off before I can even sit up straight in the seat. I try opening the doors but they're locked.

"Stop fucking with my car," he demands from the front. Immediately I cease my obviously futile attempts at escape.

"Let me go," I demand, although my voice shakes.

"No can do," he replies.

"What are you going to do with me?" I ask hesitantly.

"I wish that was up to me," he replies, looking at me through the rear view mirror, "Le cose che ti farei."
(God, the things I would do to you.)