a/n: THIS IS IMPORTANT ASF SO DON'T MISS THIS OR YOU MAY MISS TF OUT ON SOMETHING GOOD.
Federico De Santis will be making a guest appearance (FOR AN ENTIRE CHAPTER) in OutOfMyLimit17's new book, The Hidden Shadow. We've been collaborating for a while and Ken is literally the sweetest ISWEARRRRR. He will be making an appearance a few chapters in, SO KEEP AN EYE OUT! I'll be posting on here to let you all know when the chapter officially drops! But make sure to check out her books anyways, she's awesome.
P.S. WE REACHED 200K VOTES SO THANK YOU THANK YOU & 9.2K followers!? That's incredible. That's crazy. And I apologize for any grammar errors.
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"The measure of a man's heart lies in what he's willing to sacrifice for his family."
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Liam Luciano, Federico De Santis, and Dominic Santiago were currently occupying a guest bedroom in one portion of the house, preparing for the nights activities. The digital clock on the oak nightstand beside the bed read nine-thirty and the trio were nowhere near ready. From submachine guns to 9mm's, from pocketknives to throat cutters, they had them all lying on the undressed mattress.
Not many words were shared as Dominic and Liam passed each other, one entering the bathroom while the other left it. Dominic slipped out the door as Federico passed him, all three of them on a personal mission. Federico found himself alone as his knees hit the bed, the thoughts in his mind were swirling, mixing in with the background noise that the television was currently releasing.
He gave the T.V. a quick glance, his eyes scanning over the figure of the gorgeous female forecaster that was currently telling the entire listening area of the severe thunderstorm warnings they were currently under for the next three days. Her navy blue dress was tight, skimpy, and hugged her in all the right places. All it did was remind him that he hadn't had any in a while.
"Don't do anything stupid tonight," Federico didn't jump or show any physical fright at the abrupt sound of the voice, but his shoulders tensed and his heart rate fluctuated for a brief second. Craning his neck to the right, he saw a head of dark, curly hair out the corner of his eye; a small smile crossed his lips as he faced the bed once more.
"Dom, please," A chuckle escapes his lips as he throws a smoke grey hoodie over his head, adjusting it over his torso, "Have faith in me." He paused and turned around on a dime, his lips creased in a wide, impossible to miss boyish grin. "Pun intended."
Dominic frowned momentarily as a voice came through the closed door of the bathroom; Liam. "I heard that."
Federico mimics his friend's voice, making a face while he does so. "I heard that."
"Rico, I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be the other way around," Dominic laughs as he steps further into the room, folding his arms over his stomach, a teasing grin on his lips. Federico frowns. "Now, I barely passed Anatomy and Physiology with a C, but I'm almost ninety-eight percent positive that you would be in her." His eyebrows lift high on his forehead as he laughs, "Unless, you've somehow managed to change that...?"
It took a moment, but the gears finally clicked in place and Rico replied with a face. Flipping the hood over his head so that it nearly covered his entire forehead, he flips Dominic the finger and turns away.
Dominic laughed deeply, not only at Rico, but at his own sarcasm. His eyes ran over Rico, who had scooted off towards the other end of the bed, his head down, his hands fiddling with a handgun. Rico tilted his head at an angle as he started to attach a silencer to the barrel of his weapon. The dark stubble on his chin, the short, black hair, the nose, the lips... He didn't believe they looked like brothers; Federico's skin was just a bit lighter, his eyes a completely different shade, and his hair lacked any type of curl – of course, that didn't matter. Dom assumed that he had taken after their father, while Federico had taken after their mother or possibly vice versa.
Slowly, he approached the bed, his gaze on Federico, whose interest seemed to reside in the slick gun in his hand. The younger man rotated it in his hands a few times. He held it up to the light and a smile crossed his face, a smile that mirrored one of a woman who was holding her baby for the first time.
"I can't imagine how happy you'll be when your wife has a baby," Dominic laughs and sits on the edge of the bed, forcing it to dip underneath his weight. Federico pulled the gun down, an unreadable expression on his youthful face.
"These are my babies," His hand motions towards every single weapon that decorates the bed. "And they're the only babies I plan on having for a while."
"Good," Dom smiles, "I don't feel like being an uncle just yet."
Dominic immediately regretted what he said, but Federico had already turned his attention back to the multitude of weapons that lay out before him. He was like a kid in a candy store. If Rico found Dom's previous statement odd, he didn't let on to it and in a way, he didn't need to. Dominic, Liam, and Federico had established the fact they although they weren't brothers by blood, they were as close as they could be.
"What do you think about me getting another tattoo?"
Dominic zoned back in to the conversation, watching as Federico dropped the gun to the bed and stared directly at him. The door to the bathroom opened quietly as a dripping wet Luciano stepped out, a towel fluffing up his hair. Water cascaded down his chest, slipping into the waistline of his boxer-briefs. He hadn't finished drying off because he had taken this perfect opportunity to emerge himself into the conversation.
"If it involves my name and your dick, I don't suggest it."
Liam shoots Rico a genuine smile before running the towel down his chest and wrapping it around his waist for good measure. He was by no means naked, but his briefs clung to him, defining every part of his lower body pristinely. "Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I have to go get dressed," He turns to walk out the room, "And Dom, I suggest you do so too. We're running late."
After Liam's temporary departure, Dominic stands. He did have to go get dressed, ready, and mentally prepared for this evenings activities. He nods upwards at Rico, "If you want another tattoo, go for it, but don't be that guy that gets a lip-stick stain tattoo on his neck."
Dom had been anticipating a laugh, a smirk, hell, even the twitching of Federico's lips would've been enough for him, but he got nothing. Rico's lips remained pursed and his eyes floated upwards and over his own shoulder, something behind him having captured his attention. Suddenly, Rico was moving. He scrambled over the bed, snagged the television remote that was resting harmlessly on a pillow, and jammed his finger multiple times into a certain button.
Dominic turned on his heel and stepped forward, the news report having also caught his attention. The blonde reporter on screen with short hair and bright red lips had both the men's attention and not for a good reason.
"Nearly a month ago, Ryan Costello was murdered in one of the biggest sports arenas in the Los Angeles area. Over the past few weeks the LAPD have been questioning terrified witnesses who were inside and outside the arena." The mature woman smiled into the camera and took a step to the side. It was nighttime and the arena lights illuminated where she stood, "And earlier today, our police chief, Harold Worthier, broke the case." And with a smile, she was cut from screen.
Lights surrounded the podium as a group of people and city officials gathered behind the Police Chief, waiting and watching. An older man with greying hair and a receding hairline stood up on a podium, overlooking a crowd of mainly reporters and picture takers. Freckles lined his cheeks and his skin was pale. He squinted as his deep voice bellowed out to the crowd of people that worked for news stations; from NBC, CBS, Channel 5, CNN, and more.
Harold, the police chief, was decked out in uniform, his chest covered in so many badges it was hard to count. Behind him stood some very important people, but nobody that Federico or Dominic could identify. Rico and Dom closed in on the television; Dom taking a few steps, while Rico crawled his way over the bed to be closer. They held their breath and waited.
"The investigation of the murder of Ryan Costello has had its trials and tribulations," The chief's voice was oddly deep and suggested that he was initially born and raised in the South, his accent, although dimmed a little, still thick. "But from the moment we learned of his cause of death, we knew this was a serious case." He drops his gaze to the podium, his fingers grazing over a stack of papers that lay before him, relying important information that he had been told to tell. "The known rivalry between the Costello, Corinelli, and Luciano family is well-known. They've been competing businesses in this industry for a while and of course, that was where our investigation led us."
He clears his throat, "We, as a crime fighting force, fell through in the investigation when we couldn't gather together enough evidence to issue warrants on anyone. Nobody that was inside at the time of the murder felt as though anything was off; there were no distractions or odd interruptions, for the most part, it sounded as though it had all gone smoothly. But we were focusing too much on what happened before than after."
The Chief flips a paper, glances at it, and returns his gaze to the camera. "Peter Corinelli, who has offered up his statement on what he saw, has cooperated with our investigation from day one. He's answered questions and given testimonies; the only thing he hasn't done, is take us to the murderer's home. As a group, we decided that Mr. Corinelli is no longer a subject of interest. He stayed by Ryan Costello's side until the ambulance and police arrived and he also gave us a statement that night."
Mumbling and low chatter rise from the group of onlookers. Under the roof and comfort of Luciano's house, Rico and Dom were slowly growing nervous. They didn't see Liam enter the room quietly, now dressed in his typical attire; a dress shirt and slacks. His hair was still damp from his shower and the smile that he had entered with would slowly turn into a frown the longer he stood there, beginning to process everything that was rapidly unfolding before them all.
"Liam Luciano was seen leaving the premises, a date clinging on to his arm," The man laughs, "No, that isn't suspicious, but what's suspicious is that he hasn't come forward to give us his testimony, to help us find the real killer." The chatter in the group rose, "Of course, that isn't enough to bring the world-renown CEO in; but, thanks to a little luck and a little God-power, I have someone that can possibly change that."
By now, Dominic and Rico had felt Liam's presence. He was tensing; his teeth were grinding together, and his jaw occasionally locking. All three of their attentions were stuck on the screen, unable to turn away for even a second.
"I told you, you shouldn't have gotten involved in this," while the people on screen continued to wait for the person the Police Chief was planning to introduce, Michael Luciano had snuck into the room, his arms also folded accordingly. Liam turns around, followed by Dom, then Rico. "Mixing the Mafia with the pressure and exposure of running a goddamn company is not okay and it will always come back to bite you in the ass." The older man steps forward and points an accusing finger at his son, "I warned you and you didn't listen to my old ass."
He finished his statement in perfect timing because by the time they all had turned their attention back to the television, a man was on screen. He was short, built, and had a nice five o'clock shadow growing. His right arm was in a sling and he grimaced as he stepped up on stage, replacing where the Chief stood just moments before.
Nobody knew who he was, but Federico De Santis did. The young man stepped forward, a vein protruding in his neck at the realization of who the man that was standing on screen was. "I killed him," He whispered it so softly that only he heard, but Dominic glanced at Rico out the corner of his eye, sure he had heard him mutter something beneath his breath.
The man on screen was easily recognizable; he had been a security guard at the arena that night, one who had chased Federico out the door and called for backup. He was one of the many that Federico De Santis had sworn he had murdered. Rico shook his head, bewildered as to how he let one go. "I put a bullet in his chest." Nobody answered him and nobody wanted to. He clenched his fists, his eyes boring holes into the man's forehead.
On screen, the man cleared his throat and glanced down before him, quietly reading a statement he had tried to memorize. "On the night in question, I, Emmanuel Williams, was on duty for what I thought would be an easy shift." He lifts his head to the camera, "A night out in LA, making sure the rich and famous didn't kill each other." His forced joke makes a few people in the crowd laugh, "When everything hit the fan, when Ryan Costello hit the ground, I was on my way into the main arena when a figure ran down the steps, briefly passing me. It was suspicious, just because I knew nobody was allowed upstairs besides security – and no matter how neatly this man was dressed, it was obvious he wasn't security. So following my gut, I followed him outside."
While Emmanuel gave his testimony, all Federico could do was utter three words: I killed him.
Or so he thought he did.
When Federico had left that night, looking for an escape after pulling the trigger and ending another life, he had been bombarded by security guards. He had either snapped the necks of those who came to close, or put a bullet in the chest of the others. He had put a bullet in Emmanuel's chest, but ending his life is what he had failed to do. Guilt started running through his veins, because now, if he remembered correctly, this man could not only identify him, but also Liam.
"I believe with all my heart that the man I chased into the alley was the shooter." Emmanuel glances down at his paper, pausing for a long moment. He was growing emotional. "Backup was called, extra forces were needed in apprehending the suspicious subject, but we failed. I watched him singlehandedly take out every single person called. And in the end, when everyone around me was lying in a puddle of their own blood, he started checking pulses."
He pauses again, taking a deep breath, "When he checked mine, I got to look him dead in the eye," Emmanuel closes his eyes, shaking his head gently as the memory flashes through his mind for the millionth time. "As cliché as it sounds, his eyes reminded me of black circles, black holes..." He lifts a hand to the corner of his eye for emphasis, "I don't know whether he assumed I would die thanks to the bullet he put in me a few minutes before, but he lowered the gun and he turned around at the sound of a voice."
Emmanuel paused once more, slowly flipping the pages before him. A period of restful silence followed as the surviving witness stepped back, allowing the Police Chief to step back up and wrap his large hands around the podium's edges.
"I asked Emmanuel to stop there in his testimony, but he has more, he has details, and he is how we're going to apprehend the suspects. After accumulating enough physical evidence and a clear and vivid witness testimony..." The man looks down at his papers and lifts his head with a soft, all-knowing smile, "A warrant has been issued for the arrest of Liam Luciano."
The crowd practically screamed, all pressing forward with their cameras and devices they could use to record the speech. One woman, she had a beautiful dark complexion with full lips and gorgeous curly hair. She wore a news cap, advertising her small-town station. As the Police Chief, Commissioner, and Captain marched by her, escorted by burly security, she leaned forward, a mic in her hand.
"Sir! Sir!" The police chief slowed at the sound of her voice, but he didn't acknowledge her. All he heard was noise, a million questions being shouted out to him all at once. The woman continued, "Sir! Are you implying that Liam Luciano is the shooter?"
"No," He shakes his head briefly, keeping his face away from the mic, knowing good and well that whatever he said would be heard by thousands – if not millions. "That is not what I'm implying at all, Ma'am."
"Then what are you implying?" She pressed him, her mic not shoved in his face and her cameraman doing his best to get the Chief in view. She had a smile on her face, but hers was genuine; his, the chief's, was not.
It was all for the cameras, all for the press. The population would certainly eye Luciano far differently than they did now, but it was what lay much deeper that scared the LAPD. They had always had their hunches, their assumptions, and their judgmental guesses, but they were certain that now they were on to something.
And looking straight into the camera, he took a deep breath and looked into the eyes of every Los Angeles resident that was watching the news that evening, he looked into the eyes of women, children, husbands, and uncles; but what he didn't know, was that he was looking right into the eyes of the man he was about to throw under the bus.
Then what are you implying? The question ran through his head again.
"I'm implying that Liam Luciano gave the command."
Near the outskirts of Los Angeles, down a windy dirt road, and up a long, almost mile in length driveway in an excessively large home, stood four men. Neither of them had moved, neither of them dared. The seemed content where they were; Michael Luciano with a hand stroking his chin, Dominic Santiago with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, Liam Luciano with a hand entangled in his hair, and Federico De Santis with his fists clenching and unclenching at his side. They all looked equally stressed, but what the only thing they truthfully shared was their facial expressions; lips parted slightly, mouths open just barely, and their eyebrows relaxed in shock. They were still trying to digest the words that had been uttered just minutes before.
"A warrant has been issued for the arrest of Liam Luciano."
Thanks to his vibrating cellphone, Liam snapped out of it first.
His hand dropped to his side as his mind started processing a million things at once. Snagging his phone out his pocket, he flipped it around, only to see his message notifications lighting up. The notifications kept coming, all from concerned family members that had been watching the same live broadcast as he. His jaw clenched as he unlocked his cell and responded to the first message he could fully read.
It read, we've been comp'd? waiting for your command.
Liam's heart was already fluctuating in speed by the time he turned away from the news and started speed walking out the room. Federico and Dominic didn't have to be told, they flanked him immediately. Luciano's fingers raced over the keyboard and he shoved his phone back in his pocket, seconds after sending his command.
His three word response was more powerful then a couple saying, "I love you," for the first time.
lock it down.
When Luciano spun on his heel underneath the doorway, both Federico and Dominic had to stop on a dime. All the joking, the laughing, the teasing was pushed aside at the seriousness of the situation. This didn't just change a couple things, this changed everything and they all knew that.
Michael Luciano had turned from the television also. He was shaking his head in disappointment and he was the first to voice anything since the broadcast. "I told you..."
All his son could do was nod, because in fact, his father had.
Without another moment's hesitation, Liam pointed a finger at Dominic, a command already on the tip of his tongue. "We're locking this shit down, go downstairs, tell Timothy and William that I want it all erased; every security camera, every single piece of footage, everything."
"That isn't obvious?" Dom interrupts, "If the police storm this place and find everything erased, won't that make you look even guiltier?"
"Tom Brady can do it, why can't I?"
He had Dominic Santiago there. The curly haired man nods and stalks past Liam, muttering, "You're the boss."
Liam locks eyes with Federico and without any words being shared, he knew. That night, for the first night in what felt like Luciano's life, he saw raw emotion swirling in the brown and green of Federico De Santis' eyes. He couldn't determine whether it was anger, sadness, possibly both; all he knew, was that Rico was beating himself over this – and if he didn't force Rico to stop that thought process, the younger man would be falling in a downward spiral by tomorrow morning.
"Follow me," was all Luciano said as he turned his back on the room and exited the door. He didn't have to turn around to know Federico had indeed followed. They were halfway to the stairwell when Liam turned around, forcing Rico to stop.
Tilting his head, Luciano eyes the younger man. "Do not beat yourself up over this."
Federico responded so quickly, Liam refused to believe he hadn't even heard a word he had just said, "I missed."
"This is not all your fault—"
Rico takes a step forward, anger the most evident emotion. A vein in his neck rose as slapped his chest with the palm of his hand. "I fucked up and because I fucked up, we now have a witness who can not only identify you, but they can identify me." His eyebrows connected and his hazel eyes darkened. Liam didn't step back, not even when Federico inched closer, a murderous look swirling in his eyes. Rico lowers his voice, "If I pull my gun on you, ninety-nine point eight percent of the time, I aim to kill. I don't know about you, but I don't shoot to miss."
Luciano didn't even have a chance to respond. Rico turned away, visibly frustrated as he ran his hands over his short hair, groaning loudly. Liam didn't have time for this. Shaking his head, he turned on his heel, his next destination just ahead of him. He knew how police worked; the minute a warrant was issued, cops were sent out to apprehend the suspect. Calculating the amount of homes he had, he gave the police about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes to reach him if they dispatched multiple squads to each location.
"Hey," Federico's voice called Liam back and they turned towards each other, "If it gets to that point, I'll take the fall." Rico swallows hard, "I pulled the trigger, not you."
Liam takes a step forward, his mind replaying the words he just heard. "Rico, they have evidence, okay, we aren't talking a slap on the goddamn wrist." His gaze intensified, knowing what he was about to say was true. Licking his lips, Liam looked away momentarily, "We're talking a minimum of twenty-five years for first degree murder in California."
The news doesn't seem to startle Rico. He shrugs, "I pulled the trigger."
A laugh erupted from Luciano's throat as he turned his back, waving down Rico's suggestion. "Nobody will fall for something I did, something I wanted. If you want to help, I'd suggest calling up Vincenzo and placing a hit on our only witness, Emmanuel Williams," Liam turns and begins to walk away, shouting out over his shoulder twice. "I want him dead by tomorrow."
Pausing again, Liam turned around, watching as Federico lifted a phone to his ear, unaware of Luciano's stare. Nodding, Liam gathers Rico's attention once again and with a soft smile, he adds, "And you might've pulled the trigger, but I gave the command."
The only response Federico gave was a smile, then his own conversation started with the person over the phone. Rico's eyebrows came to connect as he turned away from Liam, "Vince, we need you—"
Stalking down the hallway, Liam pushed himself through one of the cracked doors that belonged to one of the many guest rooms. As background noise, a machine in the corner was playing the gentle roll of thunder as a sleeping tool for the young girl that lay in bed. Rosalie's body was twisted in the sheets, her mouth open and her hands wrapped around the same stuffed teddy bear that Rico had given Liam to give to Faith; Mr. Stuffykins. They had gathered the innocent bear when they first went back to look for Rosalie, to look for Melanie, and since Rosie had come back, she had fallen in love with the stuffed animal.
Other than Faith, Rosalie was the only other woman he found himself kneeling for. Using his elbows for support, he rested them on the mattress and leaned forward, slowly pushing the longer strands of hair away from her face. A smile crossed his lips at the innocence of the little girl that lay before him; his eyes fell over her chipped nail polish, her lips, the crease in her brow, and the hint of pink in her cheeks. His finger ran over her eyebrow in admiration as she shifted in her position and slowly, her eyes opened.
She didn't look afraid, hardly startled at the sight of her brother kneeling before her bed. What she noticed first was the distressed look that his expression held, the concern that etched his lips, the fright in his eyes. Shifting beneath the warm sheets, she reached out and brushed the strands of hair from his forehead, a weary smile on her smile. "What's wrong, Liam?"
That was a nearly impossible question to answer. The pressure and the stress he was feeling after the broadcast had skyrocketed. Dodging the police had been easy when he was younger and he had escaped a few racketeering charges years back, charges that had been dropped after close examination. To put it in terms that we could understand, it meant a man on the inside had gotten Luciano out and ever since then, he had steered clear of police and federal agents. But murder – to be more specific, first degree murder – wasn't something that he could easily worm his way out of.
There were a lot of things he could've told his sister, but instead, he rested his cheek on the mattress and sighed at her. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he started speaking, "Remember when you asked me what I did for a living?"
"Yes," she whispers back.
"And remember when I said that some people think I'm a bad guy?"
Rosie nods her head again, remembering clearly. "They think you're a bad guy," She nods and leans forward more, "But you aren't, you're a good guy."
"Yeah, well—" Words, however, don't come next. What Liam and Rosalie hear next was undeniable; they were faint sirens, slowly growing louder as they approached. Craning his head towards the nearest window, it was possible that Liam had hallucinated the flashing of blue and red. Rosalie sits up a little straighter, her eyebrows connecting.
"Are the bad guys coming to get you?"
"No—" Liam stumbles, "Yes," He stands and hurries her along, watching as she scrambles off her bed and grabs his hand. "Let's just... Sweetheart, listen," Dropping to his knees and feeling rushed, Liam pulls her close, adjusting her tank-top. "The cops aren't bad—"
"If the cops aren't bad, then are you?" She poised a very good question.
Taking a deep breath, Liam releases it and pulls her close, "I've done bad things, but that doesn't make me a bad person." Resting his hands on her cheeks, he stares at her intently, "But I need you to promise me, if something happens to me, you go with Uncle Rico, with Faith, Dominic, even Michael, okay? They'll protect you."
After she nods enthusiastically, Liam stands and grabs her hand, tugging her out the room. But once again, she falters and let's go of his hand, pointing towards the bed. "Stop! Wait! I have to get Rico!"
Liam frowns, "Rico is—" He points out the door as Rosalie runs to the bed and grabs the stuffed animal. Hugging it closely, she runs back over to him and they interlock hands. Leading her out the room, he glances down, "You named the bear after Uncle Rico?"
She nods, remaining silent.
He never had a chance to reply. Dominic came sprinting up the steps, neatly falling in line with the other two as they headed back towards the bedroom.
"Everything's been cleared," He states in a rapid tone, "Everything from security footage to google searches involving kittens."
Federico slips out a room, falling in line behind Rosalie and slipping his phone into his pocket. "Vincenzo has a man on William's now; he'll be dead in three hours, max."
The four head back into the bedroom, dispersing as they did so. Everyone was moving five times quicker than they had been; Dominic continuing in getting dressed, while Federico threw weapons in various bags. Rosalie didn't seem to mind curling up on the bed, her head resting next to a SMG. Her eyes closed as Liam started pacing. His pulse was racing, his head was pounding, and adrenaline was already flowing.
Nothing was really said as Rico threw the guns in the bag, Dominic changed, and Rosalie catnapped. The realization of what Liam would have to do was slowly coming into perspective. Federico and Dominic, in a way, had sacrificed themselves. Faith had done the same thing and if we had to be technical, Melanie and Alex had too, in a way. It was only proper that the person at the top would have to not only make a sacrifice, but make the ultimate sacrifice.
The volume of the sirens only increased, forcing the three grown men to lift their heads in alert. Rico's eyes darted around the room as he zipped up another black duffle bag, nodding, "We need to get the fuck out of here."
"Wait."
"Wait?" Zipping the last bag closed, Rico tosses one over to Dominic and throws one over his shoulder. "We don't have time to wait—"
"I said wait," Liam states again and turns around. His eyes fall on Dominic, on an impatient looking Rico, on Rosalie, and Michael, Will, and Timothy that had entered the room seconds before. His jaw clenched as he pointed at Michael, Dom, and Rico, singling them out.
"I'm tired of running. I'm tired of listening to you all call me name after name for mistakes I made. I'm sick of hearing you, especially you—" Luciano laughs coldly as he points to his father, "—call me a bitch. Need I remind you all, that this so called bitch is standing in the position he is today because he worked his ass off for it." If he didn't have their attention three seconds ago, he had it now. "I got myself here; I found loyal people to work with, I got the money, I made our name famous—" He shoots another cold look at Michael, "I got myself here," He repeats, "And if it all crumbles to the ground tonight, I'm going with it."
Liam turned to walk away, but Federico was the first to object. He stepped forward, his lips pursed. "And I won't let that happen. If you go down, we all do."
Liam was already shaking his head as Dominic stepped forward in agreement, "What he said," he adds, shooting a thumb over at Rico.
"No," Liam shakes his head again and turns, "You all have already sacrificed enough for this family." Rico and Dominic opened their mouths to object, but Liam lifted a hand, using his own power. "I've treated you two like equals my entire life, but right now, right now I refuse to."
Luciano lowers his hand, "You two have made your sacrifice for this family and I think it's only fair that I make mine. If the police are waiting for me outside of Peter's home, you all take Faith, you take Rosie, and you walk out the back while I walk out the front." He exhales deeply, "And if they have enough evidence to prosecute me to the fullest extent of the law..." His gaze falls over Michael, over Will, and Tim, over Rico, Dom, and finally Rosalie – who still napped comfortably on the bed. "...then so be it."
- - - -
| Faith Crawford |
The resemblance between Zara Luciano and her son were astonishing. They both had that drive, even in the toughest of situations, to keep them going, to keep them motivated. They were both strong willed, sweet in their own way, yet, I had a feeling that like Liam, Zara could snap if you came at her the wrong way. My initial judgment of her had been completely off; after she got food in her system, water down her throat, and a hair tie to pull her hair up, she had transformed into another person.
I wasn't sure how many days had passed since I had seen the lovely trio last. It had easily been five days, possibly six. We had fallen into a lovely routine. I spent my evenings and nights upstairs, guarded by Xavier Corinelli – if it wasn't some random man that worked for Peter. It had been awkward at first, knowing I had to change while being watched, knowing I had to eat while being watched. I was shocked Xavier even allowed me to shower alone. By, I'd estimate the fourth night, I had slowly grown accustom to the odd changes and Xavier's stand-offish attitude.
Xavier shut down on me; he stopped talking extensively, he stopped laughing, and forcing conversation on me. I had a feeling that was my own fault; my own fault for judging him the way I did, especially when he came out, saying that Peter Corinelli was his father. In the situation I was in, I shouldn't have – look at Liam and his father, Michael – yet, as sweet as Liam could be, he has his faults and anger was a major one. So sue me for being a tad afraid of a man I hardly knew.
During the day, I found myself down here, keeping Mrs. Ex-Luciano company. I found myself laughing at her jokes and smiling at her stories. She was one of those people that when she smiled, so did you; but today wasn't one of those days.
The holding cell they had us in was darker than previous days, it seemed dirtier at a quick glance, and I was certain it was getting smaller the longer we stayed in there. I had my back pressed against a wall, my head leaning back against the concrete. I was content in waiting, but Zara had grown impatient. She stood, her hands entangled behind her back and her hair swaying from side to side as she walked.
"We need to get out of here," She muttered, shaking her head while she did so, "We have to get out of here."
"They're coming," I stated for the millionth time that day. My eyes fell downcast to the dust and dirt covered floor. My finger drew a line out of boredom as I looked back up, watching as Zara came to a stop and turned to me.
"You keep saying that, yet—" She throws up her hands in exaggeration, "—no one has come." A groan came from her direction as she continued pacing, "Seriously, this is why you don't rely on men for anything."
I pull my legs up to my chest and sigh. I used her pacing as my form of entertainment. "Up until the other day, Liam preached that if anything were to ever happen, he would come back. It wasn't until we pissed each other off, for good, fair reasons, did he tell me he'd never come back." I lean my head back, "He's coming and so is Rico." Zara's sigh is loud, "Trust me, Zara. They'll be here."
She seemed to relax at that and inwardly, I smiled. With her pacing now ceased, she rested her back against the opposite wall and slid down it, groaning obnoxiously loud as she did so. Despite the matted hair, the dirty face, a few cuts and bruises on her cheek, and her torn clothes, she was still gorgeous. Her jaw was defined in a way that wasn't creepy, but left you more appreciative of it. Her skin was void of wrinkles or bumps and with Michael Luciano even having kept in shape, it was clear that an attractive baby was promised between them.
"Liam Elijah Luciano," I broke the silence by stating his name in a dreamy manner, appreciating every syllable and emphasizing every letter. Her gaze drifted up to me and our smiles mirrored each other's, "Why that name?"
Zara lets out a gentle laugh, most of the tension leaving with her breath. "Obviously, I had no choice about Luciano," She gives me a look, making me laugh, "I always thought the name Elijah was beautiful, but Liam... Liam was thought out." She relaxes as much as she can and tilts her head at me. "Liam means strong-willed warrior, a protector..."
I smile, my thoughts drifting back to how protective he was of Rosalie. "He lives up to his name."
"He's lived up to it since he was seven," Zara surprises me by adding that little fact. I sit up straighter, my ears tuned in to a possible story of baby Liam's childhood. She chuckles, "Liam's been a momma's boy since the beginning."
I lean my head back also, eyeing her out the slits of my eyes. "And you and Michael?"
"A sunken ship," She lets out another smile, followed by a short stint in laughter. Casually, she sits up and motions to me. "The Michael you know, the Michael you've met," Zara shakes her head, "That isn't the Michael I fell in love with, nor is it the Michael I married."
I, too, sat up at that. "He changed..."
The woman sighs deeply and folds her arms across her chest. "I had Liam when I was young, really young and back then—" She scoffs, "—back then, being pregnant at seventeen, eighteen, hell, even nineteen was practically a sin. These days, MTV has about seven different television shows all about a pregnant sixteen year old whose mother supports her; my parents didn't." I lean back in an attempt of comfort. I was ready for this story. "They told me that if a man could get me pregnant, that if I felt as though I was responsible enough to have a baby, then I was also responsible enough to find a job and a home – a home that wasn't theirs."
My heart broke a tad for her.
"I actually didn't know Michael was in on this—" She makes an emphasis with her voice and her hands, implying the mafia without actually saying it, "—till it was too late. If I had known he was involved in this type of lifestyle, then it was possible I never would have even—" Zara lets out an irritated groan and for a second, she falls silent.
"Would you believe me if I said that Michael used to be a good father?" The corner of Zara's lips curl upwards for a second at the distant memory, "When Liam was younger, they would go on walks, play games, Michael would put my baby to sleep, and he would even attempt to sing to him." I watch Liam's mother closely, noticing that at the pause of her words, he eyes fluttered closed and her lips slowly turned downwards. A dark look now crossed her face.
"The beautiful cars, the large homes, the power..." She rolls her head to the right and stares at me, "It's great until you see the man you love change completely. And back then, if anything happened to the Don of the Family, his first born son was to take the reins. I'm sure it's changed by now but—"
"—you didn't want Liam to take over for Michael?"
"Hell no; I didn't want the same thing to happen to my baby."
I clear my throat, "So what ended up happening?"
"Trying to be the stupid, strong woman that I felt as though I was, I confronted Michael." Zara laughs and shakes her head, "Horrible, horrible idea. I told him I would take his son, his only son, and leave.
I cringed. "Zara—" That, alone, sounded like a horrible thing to do.
She shook her head, as if she had already come to the realization of her gravest mistake. "It went on like that for the longest time, me threatening to take his son and leave and Michael threatening to abuse the power he knew he had and scare me away." She sighs, "I started being followed; pictures were taken of me, my phone calls were being traced and one night, I laid my head down on my pillow. Michael did the same, like he did every night, but this night, this night was different."
By this time, I was completely emerged into the story. I was standing, slowly creeping over to Zara in anticipation. I probably looked like a freak, but that was okay. "How was it different?"
I wasn't sure if Zara ignored my question on purpose, but she did. A tear rolled down her cheek, one that she desperately wiped away as she continued her story, "We got into a fight the next day, I left for Italy, and for a year, Michael had a bounty on my head."
"That sounds like hell," I whisper.
Zara ignores my comment, "That was how I met Vincenzo De Santis."
If I wasn't all in to this story, I was now. My eyes went wide and I practically dropped to my knees, grabbed her shoulders, and shook her for more information. There was almost too much information going into my head at once and I felt overwhelmed.
"Vincenzo was sent to kill you?"
She nods slowly. "And if I have to be honest, Vincenzo scared me more than the rumors that circle around Fantasma."
I lift an eyebrow at that. "Are you saying Vincenzo De Santis is better?"
"No," Zara shakes her head, "I'm saying he was better."
"So what ended up happening?" I drop to the floor, crisscrossing my legs.
"I ended up becoming friends with a man that was sent to kill me," She smiles softly. "He was nice; he was thoughtful, very well spoken for being so young. I haven't spoken to him since then, but I've heard things; I've heard how he runs his own family now up in Detroit, how he's become such a controlling person, a cruel human-being." Zara lets out a breath, "I've seen far too many people change in my lifetime."
"Change?" I tilt my head a little bit. I understood the change Michael went through, but Vincenzo?
She nods, "The things I hear about Fanta—uh, Federico De Santis, they're cruel, heartless acts that I didn't think anybody could be capable of committing. Vincenzo was scary, he was intimidating, and he was good, but he wasn't heartless – not like his son."
I contradict her statement, "Rico isn't—"
"—Vincenzo was sent to kill me, yes, but he became my friend and I became his." Zara smiles softly, her eyes fluttering closed. There were good memories there, you could tell. I was close enough to see the goosebumps on her arms rise at the memory she was currently reliving behind her eyelids.
The smile, the way she ran her hand up and down her opposite arm, I had to take a guess. Slowly, I lean forward and lower my voice, as if we aren't the only ones in the room.
"Were you and Vincent ever more than friends?"
She left me guessing.
Her eyes opened slowly and she smiled softly, a gleam in her eyes. The smile that etched her cheeks soon faded and the light in her eyes died as she continued. "Michael called off the hit for unknown reasons and Vincenzo was preparing to return home, back to the States. He got a text message while we were at the airport, he stopped laughing, and a week later, I heard that he had retired at the age of twenty-one."
I was so drawn into the story that I skipped the opportunity to ask another question.
"That's why it doesn't surprise me now that Fantasma, Federico, is Vince's. At twenty-one, Vincenzo was on the verge of becoming one of the most legendary hitmen known to the Italian Mafia and—"
"—and to keep his legend somewhat alive, he adopts Federico," I say in a dreamy manner, every puzzle piece falling into place, "He trains Federico to become what he almost was." I pause, "Even better, possibly."
Zara nods, "Time passes; Liam grows up without his mother, Michael refuses to tell him the truth... His friendship with The De Santis' fades."
I blink back a few tears at her tone.
There's a long, uncomfortable pause and if I didn't see it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it. A tear rolled out the corner of Zara's eye as she leans forward. In a matter of seconds, her eyes are glazed over with unfallen tears. I sigh as a few droplets find their way to the corner of her eyes and hurriedly rush down her cheeks.
"Is it completely, absolutely, ridiculously insane that I still love him?" She wipes at her cheeks in a rushed manner, but the damage is already done.
I shake my head, "Absolutely not."
"Good," Zara lets out a shaky breath, "I thought I was insane." She pauses, "I mean, I know I'm insane but I thought I had completely lost it—" Her shoulders shake as she giggles through her tears, sighing in content as she leans back against the wall.
It wasn't until her eyes drifted shut did I realize my own tears. I honestly wasn't even sure why I was crying. Maybe my period was coming, or slowly, very slowly I was turning psychotic. I let out a laugh. Rico would probably like that.
But would Liam love it?
My thoughts found themselves circling around the man I had grown to like, a lot. The word love had been thrown around my head a lot and I think I kept denying it because I was afraid of loving and not being loved back. I didn't feel like Liam wore his heart on his sleeve and often times his feelings were masked, or maybe he did, and I was just blinded by that certain L word to see it. I chuckled again; maybe love really was blind.
"Zara," I call her name out and open my eyes, watching as she does the same. She quirks an eyebrow and I continue, "How did you and Michael start talking again?"
I was waiting for some elaborate story, but it was as simple as three words. "He called me." I snorted and she laughed, "He talked to me like we were old friends, asked me how I was doing, he told me how everything was going, told me about Liam, about the current situation." She breathes deeply, "He apologized for what he did twenty years ago, for altering the life of not only mine, but his and of course, Liam's."
I was stuck on one certain part of that story, "He...apologized?'
She nods once again, "And call me stupid for forgiving him--"
"—You aren't stupid."
Again, she lets out a hesitant breath. "You think I'll get to see him again?"
"Yeah," I smile softly and nod. "You will. What are you going to do when you see him?"
"Smack him," Her smile mirrors mine.
I let out a laugh, one that echoes off the walls of the small room. "Yeah, smack Michael Luciano for me, please."
Zara's smile falters as she nods, "I will if you promise me one thing."
"Anything."
Her features suddenly grow hard, her gaze as hard as steel, "No matter what happens, keep Liam in line; he has a heart of gold, don't let it change. Don't let this lifestyle go to his head, don't let his unconditional love for anything fade and whatever you do, don't let him become what his father became."
Her hand finds mine and together, they warm each other's. My eyebrows twitch in confusion as I stutter a few times. My laughter was what I fell back on when I didn't know what to say. "Um," I let out an odd sounding noise, "What if I'm not around?"
"As long as I'm his mother, you aren't going anywhere."
A smile was crossing my face as the sound of a door unlatching filled the room. A bright light streamed through the entrance as a familiar head of messy hair stepped into the room. Xavier nods towards the exit, his eyes on me. He doesn't waste three seconds looking over at Luciano's mother.
"Faith,"
I stand up quickly, shooting an apologetic look over at the woman leaning against the wall. I wasn't sure what time it was, but it was usually around now that Xavier came down and escorted me upstairs. Zara mouthed something that looked like, "It's okay," and I sighed, heading towards the door in a defeated manner.
Once the door closed behind us and we started stalking up the stairwell, I spoke. "Is your father finally growing a pair and actually going to speak with me?"
The door at the top of the steps was opened and we emerged at the end of this familiar hallway. I glanced behind me for just a second, hoping and praying that was the last time I ever had to climb those steps. Swiftly, I caught up with Xavier, who was walking briskly away from the basement. His jaw was set, his eyes locked on whatever his destination was, and his lips were pursed. Although our relationship had stuttered slightly, Xavier's silence was noticed. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets and his fingers fiddled with keys at the bottom of them. He was nervous, antsy.
We were only a few feet from the end of the hallway, where the sound of television and laughter came from. Grabbing as much of Xavier's bicep as I could, I directed his attention down at me and he swiveled on his heel, turning towards me. His eyebrows were connected, his jaw moving from side to side in an almost annoyed state. I studied him for only a second before stepping up on my toes and leaning forward, lowering my voice in the process.
"What the hell is going on?"
His gaze rested on me for a tenth of a second before he turned away and shook his head. He let out a breath and muttered something under it, but I couldn't hear him. I trailed him, confused as we stepped out into the open and dipped in another room. A television was portraying a breaking news headline across the bottom, a gorgeous woman sat on screen, and Peter Corinelli was seated on the sofa opposite the T.V, a bowl of popcorn resting in his lap. My eyes fell to the can of beer that he tilted to his lips before resting it down on the coffee table; the same table that propped his legs up.
I gave Xavier a look, only then to realize that it wasn't just Peter, Xavier, and I in the room. Three very large, very armed men stood in each corner of the room looking bored. Each of them, however, managed to keep their bodies angled towards the television as they caught the late evening news.
The sun was setting, casting a beautiful warm glow through a few windows but the T.V. had my upmost attention. On screen, above the breaking news headline and to the right, sat a beautiful, clearly professionally taken photo of Liam; my Liam. The headline, highlighted in red and written in white suddenly became clear and I felt myself grow sick.
A Warrant has been Issued for the arrest of Liam Luciano
It continued with his known job title, CEO, and the name of his company.
I blinked and was on the sixth time re-reading the headline when Peter leaned forward and turned to his left, smiling slyly at me. Xavier had stepped to the side, leaving me completely exposed, like a duck sitting on a lake during hunting season.
"You should tell your boyfriend of yours to read the Bible. I don't read much, but I'm pretty sure somewhere in there it says, and I quote loosely, 'be sure your sin will find you out.'"
I was pissed.
"You snitched," I breathed.
Peter cringed at my choice of words, "Snitch is such an awful word," He shudders dramatically, "I would consider it a good deed."
I uttered one word, "Omertà."
He thought about it for a second, he really did think about it. Peter stood to his feet, brushed off his pants and neatly re-buttoned his suit jacket. His eyes were on me, studying me, watching me, analyzing me, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He closed the gap between us, forcing me to pick my head up and look the older man in the eye. His eyes were dark, his gaze terrifying. I felt goosebumps riddle my skin and when he leaned forward, down, and tilted his head towards me. And in a low, chilling, cruel voice, he spoke. "And what are you going to do about that?"
My eyes were closed at this point as I tried to block of the fact that Peter had completely broken the personal bubble rule. I was uncomfortable, I was scared, and in every sense of the word, I was outnumbered. With his father in the room, Xavier would never go against something Peter commanded or said. With three armed guards standing in the corner, the only way I could defend myself was with my words.
I was tired; tired of being here, tired of being marched back and forth like a slave. I was tired of the threats that were placed on the heads of the ones I cared for and most importantly, I was tired of Peter.
As did he, I tilt my head upwards and towards his cheek, my own breath hitting his skin. "I'm going to put a bullet in your head."
Peter stepped back slightly, but "afraid" wasn't the word I would describe him. A confident, cocky smirk cornered his lips as he let out a brief laugh. Everyone's attention was on him, yet, I couldn't confirm whether all of them had heard exactly what he been said between us.
"The same way he put a bullet in Ryan?"
There was no reason to deny it, he knew. Ignoring his wide grin, I nodded, "Similar."
I turned from him, my heart still racing. My attention was dead set on the exit, the stairs, and the room I knew was waiting for me upstairs. With the sun having dipped below the horizon, the inside of the house had gotten darker, any natural light having left. My eyelids never felt heavier and I felt like I was dragging myself towards the steps rather than actually walking.
"Liam Luciano is no different than me," Peter Corinelli definitely seemed like the type that needed to get the last word in, so he took the opportunity and ran for it. "If you think Ryan Costello was his first murder, then you two have a couple things you need to sort out." I scoffed, "I'd kill you, but I think I'll leave that to Liam—"
I turned back at that, my fist clenched, "Liam will not murder me—"
Peter's voice also raises, "He may not put a bullet through your head, but by the time he's done with you, you're going to wish he had."
Silence. It was the loudest silence I had ever heard. It was mostly spent shooting daggers at Peter while he did the same towards me. My heart rate had increased dramatically and I found myself clenching and unclenching my fists, sweat beginning to pool in the creases. I let out a breath and spoke softly.
"They're coming back," I started, "And they're going to put a bullet through your men—" I point at the three in the corner, "I'm going to put a bullet in yours—" I point at Peter and as my hand drops, I turn to Xavier. The younger man has his arms folded across his chest, his head tilted upwards, and his feet shoulder-length apart. I address Xavier as if no one else was there to hear, "—and if you don't hurry up and pick a goddamn side, I'm going to tell them to put a bullet through you too."
I didn't stick around to see his response, if he even had one. I could feel them all staring holes into my back as I prepared to make my grand exit. I couldn't help but hear their fading conversation as I started to head up the steps.
"You going to let her talk to you like that, Boss?"
"She's upset," That was Xavier who answered for his father.
Peter then chimed in, "I want three guards on her tonight and none of them include you, Xavier." There was a pause, then, "I don't want that bitch leaving her room."
Peter Corinelli wasn't kidding when he said that either, because four hours later, I had three unknown men guarding my door. My back rested on the mattress as I lay in my clothes, my ankles crossed and my arms folded over my stomach. I was tired, but sleep was impossible to come by, especially when three armed strangers stood aimlessly around the room.
I could see the silhouettes of two; they sat on either side of the door, slouched in their seats as they tried to fight sleep. The third was over on my left, closer to the bathroom. He had been leaning against the wall for the longest time and it wasn't until I looked closely did I realize he had fallen asleep standing up. My eyes fell to the gun he was clutching, but the idea that quickly popped into my head, disintegrated at the thought of the consequences.
I glanced at the clock quickly, noting the late hour, but sleep still refused to wash over me. I took note how cold the bed was; how unwelcoming it had been to climb under the sheets and kick them away. My mind slowly began to replay every single decision I had made to get me to this point and unfortunately, it all started three months ago in a tiny home, on the east coast, in a tiny residential Maryland neighborhood. From meeting Liam for the first time, to where we are now; from meeting Federico for the first time, to where we are now; from being introduced to Dominic for the first time, to where we are now.
Never had I ever anticipated three people to become such an important part of my life and it scared me just how quickly they could be taken from me. But there was nothing in the world I would trade for the experiences, conversations, and laughs we had shared over these long weeks. It had only been three months, but it felt like a lifetime; I just met them, yet, I felt as though I've known them my entire life.
I rolled over onto my side, the bright lights of the digital clock coming into view. Subconsciously, I took note of the time, but most of my attention was on the fight Liam and I had shared days ago. I wouldn't blame myself, nor would I blame him for everything that was said. In the end, both things were said because we both cared – we just took a horrible approach to show that.
I forgave him, but I was still going to be petty and wait for him to apologize first.
Then there was Rico. We had shared quite a few words together, some friendly, some not. I smiled and laughed silently to myself when I began to recall the days that I didn't trust him. He had been the ultimate definition of sketchy, but after talking with him, getting to know him, Federico was nothing like that. He was sweet, kind, funny, but most importantly he was loyal; exactly the type of friend both Liam and Dominic needed. And no matter what happened in the future, I will always hope that he will find someone that will love him.
And of course, last but certainly not least, Dominic. He was humorous in his own way, smart, undeniably handsome, and under the definition of loyal would be his name. The story of his wife's death breaks my heart every time I think about it and just like Federico, I hoped that he, too, would in the end find happiness.
My thoughts were circling back around to Liam when it happened. The numbers on the clock beside my head flickered off for about two seconds; when the clock came back on, the time was wrong and the numbers were blinking.
For just a second, the power had gone out.
I sat up immediately, my palms pressing into the mattress as my heart skipped a beat. A knocking on the door came next and silently, I watched as one of the guards turned on the lights while the others opened the door. Xavier poked his head in, his eyes finding mine first. Slowly, he turns from me and speaks to the two men in the chair.
"The storm outside is picking up, don't worry about the power outage." Xavier nods and steps back out into the hall, but not before finishing with, "It was just the storm, don't worry."
I fell back on the bed with a content smile.
It wasn't the storm.
- - - -
a/n: till next time.