My Unforgivable, My Unforgettable... (Mafia Romance, 18+)

Chapter Twenty Four

"I can't fucking believe it! I have the fucking antivirus, after looking high, and searching low, for close to fourteen years! Fourteen fucking years of hell!" Widow exclaims, her palms hitting the staring wheel in excitement.
I'm more than just excited! I am bubbling with fucking joy! Thrilled!

No more constant medications for an almost incurable virus, by both Psycho, and Widow. No more nose bleeds, or unbearable muscle pains, or bleeding eyes. No more of that!
"Hand the box over to me, as you drive," I state.
She ignites the engine, then takes off down the streets.
"Take it from the bag."
I reach out for the box, and open it, retrieving a piece of paper.
What the hell is this!

If you are in possession of this paper, then it means, that I'm either dead, or that you are either my daughter, or one of my employees at the labs, which is highly unlikely. This letter, contains the antivirus of a virus I had created, over ten years back. Test subjects; 1101 and 1107. It is quite simple.

The virus I manufactured, feeds on both the lungs, and liver of its host, taking vital nutrients from their body. This is the only virus, incapable of transferring from host to host, an accomplishment. Now, the antivirus, is simply the blood of my daughter; Bellamy Luna Frezia. I had to inject the antivirus into her system, once she was thoroughly unconscious from the chloroform I had used on her, seeing as it'd be risky to store it away in the labs, or in a safe deposit box.

Since I'm old, I couldn't inject it into my blood, as that would have resulted in serious complications for me. I also do not, a hundred percent, trust those who worked with me in the labs, to manufacture the virus and its cure. Man is untrustworthy! I am the only one, who knows all the chemical formulas used, all the bonds involved, and how to destroy it. No one else.

If this letter is in the hands of subjects 1101 and 1107, then what a shame. That only means, I didn't do enough to conceal it from them. If the letter is in the hands of you my daughter, then what a pity, because due to your humane nature, the antivirus will find its way to subjects 1101 and 1107. That is all I have to say...

Sign: Kai Frezia.

I read, and re-read the paper, hands trembling. That's exactly why he wanted me dead on the night of his death! Because Psycho would have discarded my body, and both he and Widow, wouldn't have found the antivirus.
"We are being followed Frezia. Fuck!" Widow growls, staring into the rear view mirror.

"Bloody fucking hell!" She yells one more time, stepping on the gas, and swerving left and right, in between cars.
"They want me to fucking kill them on the highway? Take hold of your gun, and don't shoot, till I command. Got that? I'm going to lead them into the outskirts of the city. I don't need fucking attention!"

I nod, then grab hold of the gun, cocking it. She drives faster, jaws clenching, and grip tightening against the wheel.
"Aim for the tires. That ought to stop them for a while. Fucking hell!"
I roll down the window, aim for the left front tire, and shoot.

Fuck! I missed. I aim one more time, cock, then shoot severally, the bullets hitting one of the front tires, as the car screeches to a sudden halt. Just then, out of nowhere, another vehicle crashes into ours, causing Widow to lose her grip on the wheel. The airbags come flying into our faces, as Widow cusses profanities under her breathe.

She reaches for a gun beneath her seat, then points the gun in my direction, her arm outstretched right past my face. Gunshots resound, bullets rain, as bodies collapse right outside my window. Suddenly, bullets puncture the back window, compelling us to take cover, as Widow works to reload her gun. A hand reaches into her side, the muzzle of a gun making contact with the back of her head, effectively knocking her out.

Fuck! Bloody hell!
I tightly clutch my gun in one hand, rise from my position, and shoot. The lady drops like a fly, just as the muzzle of another gun rests firmly against the back of my head.
"Leave the unconscious one behind. She's no threat. Take the other one!" A male voice commands from a distance, as my door is yanked open.

My hair is yanked violently out of the vehicle, gun now pressed against my temple.
"Drop your weapon Bellamy. Drop it," an unfamiliar voice whispers into my ear.
I drop the gun, and lift my arms up in surrender.

A needle is injected into my shoulder with so much force, the darkness slowly creeping in, as well as the paranoia. My head falls back, and I'm uplifted, and carried into the trunk of a certain vehicle. Ropes are tied around my arms and feet, each knot tighter than the last, as finally, after struggling against the dizziness, I embrace it wholely.

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