Master's Apprentice (Completed) Undergoing Edits

Falling To Pieces

Thanks for adding to your reading list and taking a chance on this gang-related story crime thriller!

Author's note: I'm sorry for this.

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"Aila, are you home?"

Tomas knocked on the door to their house and reached for the door handle when there was no response.

He thought that she must be devastated at the way he acted towards her. Why did he have to have his newfound temper rear its ugly head at Aila? She didn't deserve that from him.

Would she be able to forgive him for his outburst?

"Aila? Honey, I'm sorry for what I said. I was angry, but that's no excuse for my behavior."

He looked in the kitchen and could not find her there.

Had she lost herself in the streets of New York? Was she by herself? Tomas could never forgive himself if anything happened to her because of him.

He went around the house and arrived at the living room, saying, "If you're giving me the silent treatment, I understand, but Aila, we need to think like adults here. We're married 'til death do us part so..."

Instinctively, he turned on the lights and saw the most horrible sight-his deepest fears realized.

It had to be a nightmare, right? Things like that didn't happen in real life, could they?

To his horror, he saw Aila tied up in a chair, gagged and pleading with her eyes for him to go,

"Hello, you must be the man of the house. Turn off the lights, will ya?", a tall man with a Russian accent said.

"Excuse me?", Tomas asked, perturbed at the fact that this man was trying to order him around.

"Do you really want your darling wife to pay the price of your disobedience?", the Russian nudged a gun against her side and Tomas turned off the lights as fast as he could.

"What do you want?"

"This little lady tried to fight all 4 of us off at once, but you know how it is, gun wins over hands every time. You're lucky I needed her alive as leverage, we need to talk, you and I."

The Russian then placed his hands on Aila's neck and whistled.

"I have to hand it to ya though-she has a fighting spirit; I reckon she must be wonderful in bed."

Tomas stepped forward with fists clenched, visibly outraged at the implication.

"My, my. Temper, temper. I see that you and your uncle have more in common than we thought."

"You know my uncle? I mean...what?"

"Tomas, your reputation as the little rat that got our ***** fired proceeds you."

"Pardon me for asking, but who did you say you were again?"

Tomas's brows furrowed in concentration, trying to remember if he had come across this man before. His face seemed to be familiar; could he be one of the employees from work?

"Over a year ago, your uncle asked you to look into our accounts and you noticed that we, me and my boys, had been dipping our toes into his rainy-day fund once in a while..."

Tomas interrupted, "It's grammatically incorrect to say, 'me and my boys', rather, it would be my boys and I. Me is seldom used appropriately...", he paused once he observed the furious face on the Russian.

"Do you think I give a rat's arse over whether I'm grammatically correct or not? Are you saying I'm not smart?", he yelled.

"No. Please do go on," Tomas squeaked, recalling that this man had a loaded weapon in his hand. Aila's life was worth way more to him than anything else in the world.

"You messed our lives up! We have families, my boys and I! Am I right now, pretty boy?"

Tomas gulped and kept his porthole quiet. He meant business if he used to work for The Master.

"Let me show you the boys! Alexei, Anatoly, come here!"

"We're here boss!", a pair of twin males answered him in unison.

"They're Ukrainian so they're a bit different.", the leader made a strange gesture with his hands.

A revelation came to Tomas and he finally recognized the man in the beige overcoat.

"You're part of the Petrushenkovs, aren't you?"

"We were, but your findings made The Master do three things: lecture us, exile us from AoE and get us kicked out of our own gang. I didn't even know they could do that!", one of the Ukrainians replied.

"Quiet fool! You don't have to answer anything for this snitch! He's the one who ruined our chances of skimming off the top, remember?"

"You were stealing from The Master. No wonder he fired you; haven't you considered he could have ordered your heads cut off?", Tomas stated.

"You hold no power here, young Apprentice of The Master," the forenamed boss shouted.

"You must be daft to think I'm his apprentice. It was an internship, nothing more.", he declared.

Meanwhile, Aila was wondering why Tomas was engaging in conversation with these goons out to get him. Was he insane or what?

Tomas still continued to talk, yet gently pushed a knife he had found in the kitchen across the floor. He was attempting to distract the fellows right about now. If he could provide Aila with a weapon, she could take care of the rest. Tomas was sure of that.

Maybe having a spy for a wife wasn't so bad after all. Perks included being able to defend oneself against muggers, cat burglars and gang members. Good thing Tomas had still one ace up his sleeve to intimidate these men.

"However, you are right on one account. I am his nephew. If you hurt a hair on my head or on my wife's head for that matter, you will pay for it with your life.", he threatened.

"Yeah right. You're just a lowly accountant who's in over his head. Anyways, your uncle is all tied up with his trial. I'll give you 'til the count of three to make your choice, either tell The Master you made a mistake or we'll blast her."

"You wouldn't", he dared.

At that moment, Aila untied herself and jumped on a Ukrainian. A fight broke out and Tomas was left standing there.

"Oh no you don't! I am not leaving here until at least had some recompense for what happened!", he announced before aiming at Tomas.

"No!", Aila jumped in front of him and Tomas screamed.

His whole world was falling to pieces.

"Boss, let's go! Now we're in trouble now!", a Ukrainian cried before running out of the house, other former gang members in tow.

"Aila! Aila, stay with me."

He reached for the phone and dialed 9-1-1.

"9-1-1. What's your..."

"My wife's just been shot."

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Author's note: Poor Tomas.