ARELLA (A Mafia Story)

Eleven

It might not be much to most people. It's the whole world to Andrea.

"There's two armored cars outside. Go pack a bag with whatever essentials you'll need. We're leaving this place until it's secured again." Damon states evenly, breaking the silence.

We all flow out of the safe room. Damon, Andrea, and Alessandro are all holding their guns at the ready. We don't know if all the men are dead and gone. They could be hiding somewhere.

Rather safe than sorry.

"Where are we staying?" I question Damon as I step into Arella's room to grab her stuff.

The two men who were shot in here are long gone. Some of our men probably took them to the kennels to be interrogated. All that remains is several dead bodies on the floor and blood splatter on the walls.

I try my best to ignore that. Choosing to walk over to her closet instead. The smell of death lingers in the air as I pick out several outfits, tossing them into a large duffel bag I grabbed from my room before coming in here.

"I was hoping you could call your cousin, Ares. His house is secure since he's in this life too. A hotel would be too risky."

That is right. Ares and I haven't spoken in a while. From what I've heard, he and his wife went through something similar to what I went through almost seven months ago.

They lost their baby too. Since then, they've adopted two children. A little girl and boy.

I would hate to bring drama to their doorstep. There's just no other choice. Dimitri had his men attack our home. He would be expecting us to hold up in a hotel.

We have other homes. They're just spread out across the country. It would also be risky to go there. If Dimitri is willing to attack us here, there's no telling what he's willing to do at our other houses.

Our best bet is to call Ares and ask if we can stay for a couple days. Just until our house is cleaned up and repaired.

"I'll give him a call." I state with a resigned sigh.

***

Two hours later and we're loading up onto our private jet. Andrea's leg was patched up in the car on the way here by our personal doctor. He swore like a sailor while drinking liquor straight out the bottle.

Technically, he's still underage. Who cares? My son did well today. He deserves to numb the pain in his leg with a couple of shots. I would've taken the bottle away from him before he overdid it.

Laws also just don't apply to people like us. Old enough to kill, old enough to drink.

Gianni helps Andrea into his cream leather seat. Arella looks around with wide eyes at our private jet. The colors are all creams and whites. Nothing but the best for us.

Exhaustion makes my shoulders droop as I sit down across from Damon. The adrenaline from our ordeal is officially gone from my system, making me feel tired and ragged.

Damon and Andrea have yet to shower. Their normally white undershirts are stained with blood splatter. They're not even worth saving. I'll toss them as soon as possible.

It's a good thing our jet is equipped with a full bedroom with an en-suite bathroom. They'll take their showers once we reach thirty-five-thousand feet.

Arella rests her head against the swell of my right  breast, tapping the left one with her hand. She looks up at me with those big puppy dog eyes of hers.

Lifting the left side of my shirt, I unlatch the middle clasp of my bra. She latches on with ease, drinking while staring up at me. I'm hoping this puts her to sleep. We have a long way to go and I just need to recharge my mind.