PART ONE
It's hard being the daughter of two incredibly powerful people.
Sometimes I wonder what sort of life I'd have had if I weren't their daughter, other times I find myself questioning if I'd even want to know.
There are children who grew up rich and poor, then there are children who grow up with dangers surrounding them. You have to choose a lifestyle; be scared and hide, or be just as dangerous.
And right now... well, let's just say I've had an idea.
"Oh, come on, Oliver, don't be a wuss just make the jump." I squint up, covering my eyes with my hand as I watch Oliver's worrisome face stare down at me from my hotel window.
"Ang, I don't know about this shit. If your mom finds us gone we're so dead."
I roll my eyes, he's always so worried, ever since we were younger I've had to watch over him, protect him. Always have, and always will.
I grin watching his blonde hair flurry around messily in the wind as he inhaled deeply and lets it loose. He looks just like the pictures of his mother, it's almost scary. I never met her considering she died while giving birth to him, but there are plenty of pictures my mom saved when they were friends.
Oliver jumps down the two stories and lands on the pile of garbage bags and I yelp then slap my hand over my mouth, giggling at Oliver buried in the stink pile.
We're currently on a trip with our parents. Mom and dad have a business to attend to and Oliver's dad, Caleb works for them so he had to come too. They never leave us behind in New York considering how much of a trophy we hard to people that want them dead.
We're liabilities to my parents, and I try to explain to them how I can help, that I'm strong enough but it's always no. It's too dangerous, they say.
"Get. up." I bend over and attempt to yank Oliver's tall dense figure up. He's not the biggest guy in the world, but my yanking did no justice in showing my strength. He didn't even budge until he stood up himself.
"Can you tell me what your plan is and why you dragged me out of my room?"
We walk down the street of Los Angeles, where my dad was born. "Do you know why we had to come here?"
He shrugs, "Your parents have some business to deal with."
I nod. "My parents are have been on the lookout for this man from their past for years and he's not shown up at all. I think his name was... Wilson? Anyway, there's been no sign of him until now. I overheard them talking in my dad's office and—"
"You mean you eavesdropped," Oliver smirks.
"Whatever. Listen, there's a mafia here in LA that threatened my family—said that they were going to come after us if my mom didn't negotiate with them. They sent a man to deliver this message, he walked into one of our parties and said it before shooting himself in the head."
Oliver doesn't even react to that. It's not surprising news to hear someone's shot themselves, he wasn't there that day, he was with Caleb helping his dad out with stuff.
As we cross a street towards one of Oliver's Motorcycles parked off the side of the hotel we were staying at, I'm yanked back by my waist just as a car zooms past us.
"Careful," Oliver stresses, gripping my hips. "Jesus, Angela. Watch where you're walking."
I glance down at his very... long... fingers wrapped around me tightly. The fear that passed him showing at how tense they are.
We've always been so close since we were little. I've only ever been best friends with one person and that is Oliver. There hasn't been a moment where I needed him and he wasn't there for me. Or a time when I would drag him on a mission of no good and he wouldn't come. He always came. Granted, he complained. A lot.
I put my hand over his. "I'm fine, relax."
He sighs, letting go, continuing our walk to the bike.
"Do you have the things I asked for?"
Oliver nods, unzipping his leather jacket and pulling out two pistols from his chest holster underneath and switchblades stolen from Slasher. Along with magazines.
Smiling wide, I say, "God, I love you." I unzip my fitted jacket, my holster being underneath as well and slip the gun he passes me inside, sliding the blades in my ankle holster under my jeans.
He lifts one corner of his mouth up, looking down at me, his lashes flutter just the slightest before he blinks it away. "Here." He grabs the helmet off the back of the Motorcycle and lifts it above my head.
I flatten my curls down, or at least attempt to and he laughs before sliding it on my head, securing it. He taps it and I slide the glass up from over my eyes.
"All good?" He asks me.
I nod. "All good."
He puts one on himself and gets on the Motorcycle, I get on behind him. It's not new to be riding with him, I've been doing it for years, but every time it's always the same feeling.
I stabilize my footing and Oliver reaches behind him to take my hands and gently place them across his stomach.
"Come in closer, Ang, I'm not a stranger," he huffs out a laugh.
I swallow, no he's not a stranger, just my best friend that makes me feel things best friends shouldn't make you feel. Especially when I have to get this close.
I scoot down so that I'm flush against his back, pressing my interlocked hands into his stomach.
"Just like that," he says.
I clear my throat and sigh, shaking my unwanted thoughts away and focusing on what needs to be done tonight. We're going to prove that we can help. We're not just useless children, they need us more than they know, and tonight I'm gonna show them.
"Let's go." And he takes off down the road and towards the location I give him.
I've never been to the place, I've never even been to LA before this but given that it's a mafia, I'd assume there'll be guards, there'll be a building of some sort where my parents will be found, and where this guy will be located.
I've trained hard, day and night with people of my mother's mafia to try and show them that I'm ready. I'm sick of being overlooked.
***
When we arrive at the location, it's nearly midnight. The night sky above is spotted with clouds and the moon at its fullest is present like a glowing spotlight. It's a beautiful day, really, warm enough to comfortably kill the man that's threatening my family. That's for sure.
I get off the motorcycle, my black-heeled boots thumping on the concrete as I walk forward toward the building in front of us.
It looks abandoned, almost. It seems to be an old firm but isn't used anymore. It's located just out of the city in a neighborhood that doesn't look all too nice either. Open trash bags litter the sidewalks, dog shit was scattered in clumps everywhere, and houses with lawns that look like they haven't been taken care of in months—maybe years. Then this building. It sure does fit its surroundings.
"You sure this is the right place?" Oliver wonders.
I look down at my phone where I wrote down the address and nodded. "Yeah, it's this. This is where my parents are. Come on."
Oddly enough, I haven't heard any gunshots or shouting, meaning things haven't gone down yet, or I'm too late...
I begin to worry about my parents. Are they okay? Did they get out safely? Are they still in there?
"Hurry," I tell Oliver. "If my parents are still in there it means they're either in trouble or they're negotiating."
"Oakley never negotiates," Oliver says.
I nod. "That's why we need to hurry."
I walk around the side of the building and look for the back door before trying at it. It doesn't budge. I give Oliver an all-knowing look, "this one's for you."
"You got a pin in your hair?" As he's saying it in already pulling out our, handing it to him. He grabs the bobby pin and kneels down getting to work at picking the lock. Over the years of growing up, Oliver has always been super good at picking locks. Caleb taught him young for if he ever finds himself in a position where he needs to set himself free. But that sort of backfired because every time we've ever been locked in a room to stay in, we've never actually stayed in.
In seconds the lock is picked and the door creaks open. "Done."
I smile and pull my home out from my holster, Oliver does the same, following behind me.
Walking in, the hallways are dark, with barely any lights besides the moonlight shining in from the broken windows lighting up the place.
"This place is trashed," I whisper.
Oliver walking beside me, alert, nods. "Yeah, it's a shit hole."
Getting to a corner, a creek from behind makes both of us turn, pointing the ends of our guns toward the sound. Nothing.
My heart begins to pound. "I feel like we're being watched," I whisper, my breathing quickening.
"We're good, Ang, keep moving forward."
Getting to the corner, we press our backs against the wall and peek around it. And there, pacing quickly like his steps weigh nothing at all is a man holding an assault rifle. His back faces us and I snap my head back just before he turns around to pace toward my field of view.
"Whats—"
I press my finger onto his lip, eyes widened. I point my thumb toward the corner and put up one finger to indicate there's one guy. Oliver nods, his expression hardening. That same expression his dad has when he's serious. Oliver pills at my hand and makes me walk behind, taking my stop. He bends down and picks up a rock from all the debris around and throws it up against the opposite wall.
I hear the guy grunt and Oliver tells me to keep quiet with his finger. I nod, he has a plan, and I'm trusting it.
When the guy's steps get louder the closer he gets Oliver sends the back of his gun flying into the nose of the man. The guy grunts and I move forward kicking hard between his legs and swiping my foot underneath his feet, causing him to wipe out.
I move fast, "Get his gun!" I order Oliver. He grabs it and I point mine into the man's skull, standing over him. "Before I blow your brains out I'm gonna give you a few seconds to save yourself by telling me where your leader and mafia Salvos leader is."
The name chickpea, teeth colored red with blood. "You silly girl. Do you think I care if you kill me?" he mutters. I press my heel into his balls and he screams out a grunt.
"Tell me where they are!" I twist my heel and he cries out.
"You're their child aren't you?" He coughs. "You look just like the ugly bitch and that pitiful man. If you know any better you wouldn't be here."
"I asked you a question."
"And I gave you an answer. Fuck you."
I look at Oliver who's barely visible through the darkness and he nods.
Looking back down I pull on the trigger, shooting him in the head just as Oliver protests with, "No—"
The shot echoes loudly throughout the hall and I panic at Oliver's contest. "What?"
He runs his finger through his hair and grabs a few strands. "I nodded for you to kill him with your knife not to shoot him! If there's anyone else in here, which there probably are you just alerted the entire building and more that we're here."
I try to speak, "I—" but as if on queue, several heavy boot footsteps come rushing down the staircase not too far away and before we can stake steps to defend ourselves, we're surrounded by armed men with guns dressed just like the one on the floor.
"Suelta el arma!" One of them shouts. Spanish. My dad made sure to teach me Spanish as soon I as I learned to speak.
"What are they saying?" Oliver asks me, beaming fast I'm out of his mouth.
"Drop your gun, quickly." I bend down and put my gun on the floor, Oliver following.
"¡Ponte de rodillas y levanta las manos!" Another shouts.
"Get on your knees, hands up," I translate for Oliver and we do just that, get on our knees and put our hands behind our heads.
Two of the guard put their guns down and t walk toward us. The one coming my way snatches my hands roughly and I hold in the cry from the pain as he puts handcuffs on me and yanks me by my arm to my feet.
"Pretty," he mutters disgustingly, then chuckles.
"Go to hell," I mutter harshly, each syllable clear as day.
The has taken to turn in the wrong direction and I'm not sure I know if there's a solution. I truffle to find a plan out, I'm just hoping Oliver is coming up with one. Fast.
The man tries to caress my jaw and I spit in his face, "Get your fucking hands off me, creep."
He wipes his face with his arm and grunts, and in a dashing second, I'm hit with the back of his gun, getting knocked out cold.
***
"Let me out of here!" I scream, y king in the prison called room I woke up in. "I swear to God I'll kill every single one of you—"
"Shut it!" A man shouts, banging his gun against the metal bars.
I step back, feeling dehydrated and hungry with a strong pounding in my head that's making the room slightly spin. My lip pained and swelled from getting hit with a gun before I passed out.
"Oliver!" I shout, my voice cracking. "Oliver, where are you!" I let out a small cry, beginning to panic as the man tells me to shut up again. If he truly wanted to kill me he would've already, meaning he's keeping me around for a purpose. If I was to guess it would be as bait. I'm leverage, just as my mom you to say to me.
I spend the next dozen minutes shouting and cursing the guard out. When one of them walks past me I attempt to look for the weapons hidden in my holsters, but they're all gone, taken.
They searched me while I was passed out? Their disgusting hands were on me. When I find a way out of here I swear to the lord above that I will slice each and every one of their fingers off. They aren't innocent men, these men are part of a mafia that cheats, schemes, and kills. They only worry about their drug and weapon trades, the least bad thing that could happen to one of these men is losing a few limbs. Even then I think they'd continue doing the dirt they do.
It feels like hours before I come up with something. Sitting on the cold floor, cold, feeling sick to my stomach. I hope Oliver's okay. I hope they don't do anything to harm him considering he isn't the child of Oakley and August Creed.
The man guarding my cell paces, holding his gun to his chest. I dig into my hair and pull out an extra bobby pin that was holding up stray curls into my ponytail, I bend it so that it's semi-straight and pop off the rounded ends so that the metal is showing.
"Big guy," I say as if pained. He looks towards me, ignoring it. "Hey, I need to pee." I sniffle, faking a cry.
He points towards the dirty toilet bowl in the corner of the room. I form some believable tears, and they pool down my face. "Please, I really have to pee. My stomach is k-killing me and I feel like I need to..." I fall over to my side, grab my stomach, and groan in pain. "If you won't let me go I'll hold it. I'll kill myself, it'll kill me."
He grunts and orders me to shut my mouth before he walks over while taking out the keys to the cells.
I hide the bobby pin in my hand and struggle to get to my feet, still hunched over like I'm in pain. The man walks over to me and bends over giving me the opening to ram the tip of my elbow into his eye with a grunt.
Unexpectedly, he knocks out cold.
I blink for a second. I'm not surprised. Nope. Not at all. I meant to do that. Mom would be proud.
I grab his keys and his gun and make my way through the cells to find Olliver.
But what I find instead is much worse.
*****
[Authors Notes]
Hi guys, long time no see from Vengeance right? I thought I'd give you guys a mini extra series. Hope you enjoyed it, next part coming soon!