The Mob's Gambit

Reunion & Resentment

                     The Mob's Gambit

                   "It's Kill Or Be Killed,"
 
                            Chapter 4

As Armando stood in Roxxi's cluttered apartment, the weight of his decision to reconnect with his family hung heavy in the air. He knew it was time to face the consequences of his past actions, to confront the rift that had formed between him and his loved ones. But the thought of their reaction filled him with a sense of trepidation, uncertainty gnawing at his insides.

"Are you sure about this, Armando?" Roxxi asked, her voice tinged with concern as she watched him pack a small bag with a few essentials. "Your family hasn't exactly been supportive of you in the past."

Armando nodded, his jaw set with determination. "I know it won't be easy, but they're still my family," he replied, his voice firm. "I need to see them, to make things right."

Roxxi reached out to touch his arm, her expression softening with understanding. "Just be careful, okay? And remember, I'm here for you no matter what."

With a final nod of gratitude, Armando slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way to the door, Roxxi following close behind. As they stepped out onto the bustling street, the sounds of the city enveloped them – the honking of car horns, the chatter of passersby, the distant rumble of trains on nearby tracks.

The journey to his family's apartment felt like a pilgrimage of sorts, each step bringing him closer to the ghosts of his past. Memories of happier times mingled with the harsh realities of his upbringing, creating a tangled web of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

They approached the familiar brick building that housed his childhood home, Armando felt a surge of anxiety wash over him. He hadn't seen his family in years, not since the night he had been arrested and taken away in handcuffs, leaving behind a trail of heartache and disappointment.

Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and pushed open the door, the familiar scent of home washing over him like a tidal wave. Maria was in the kitchen, her back turned as she stirred a pot of simmering pozole, her movements slow and deliberate.

"Mama," Armando called softly, his voice barely more than a whisper as he stepped into the cramped living room. "It's me, Armando."

Maria turned slowly, her eyes widening in surprise as she caught sight of her eldest son standing in the doorway. For a moment, she simply stared, her expression unreadable, before rushing forward to envelop him in a tight embrace.

"Armando," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion as tears welled in her eyes. "Mijo, you're home."

Armando returned his mother's embrace, feeling a lump form in his throat at the rush of emotions. Despite the years that had passed, Maria's love for him remained unchanged, a beacon of hope in the darkness that had consumed his life.

They sat together at the small kitchen table, Maria poured them each a cup of steaming hot chocolate, her hands trembling slightly as she passed him a mug. The silence between them was palpable, heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

"I'm sorry, Mama," Armando whispered, his voice barely audible above the gentle hum of the refrigerator. "For everything."

Maria reached out to touch his hand, her gaze filled with a mixture of sadness and understanding. "There's nothing to apologize for, mijo," she replied softly. "We've all made mistakes."

But even as they spoke, Armando couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over him like a shroud. His relationship with his family had always been strained, his father's disapproval a constant presence in his life. And now, as he sat in their cramped kitchen, he couldn't help but wonder how they would react to his return – whether they would welcome him with open arms or shut him out once and for all.