[ Venezia, Italia—2 years ago. ]
As I watch her walk out of the door, I feel everything shift. As her footsteps and cries become distant it hits me that this is real, and I just lost her. An overwhelming bout of pain jolts through me, and just as quickly as it arrives, it turns to rage.
My body courses with anger, and I feel like I can't physically exist with it. I swipe everything off of the shelves and watch it crash to the floor, my head pulsating with uncontrollable emotion. "Fuck!" I scream. I kick the table and watch it break, the ornaments on top clattering to the floor—fuck this, fuck all of this. I turn to the remaining shelves and in one sweep, throw everything against the wall with a loud bang, my teeth clenching in rage as the tears wet my cheeks. This isn't fucking right. Fuck!
The hotel manager clatters through the door and grabs my arm. "Mason! Stop!" he yells, his eyes bulging.
I fight my way out of his grip and throw the framed picture that hangs above the bed onto the floor. "Out! Get out, boy! You have to calm down!" he scolds me, shoving me towards the door.
My rage is blind, and I can't control it. I make my way straight to the warehouse, they made this happen—they should be the ones to deal with the backlash. Those bastards, they ruined my life. Again. They ruined it.
I swing the door open, every one of them eyeing me with a smug grin. "Where the fuck is the boss?" I yell.
Silence. They ignore me. I punch one of their loyal little soldiers in the face, earning a laugh from Stefano and an ill tempered insult from the one with the bloody nose. "I said where is he?"
"Marco is... indisposed at the moment." he smirks, twirling his knife between his fingers.
"Then where is Giovanni?" I seethe. I kick over a table with taped up boxes on top, no doubt waiting to be picked up by the cartel. Stefano stands to his feet with a clenched jaw.
"Back off," Marco sighs, placing his hand on Stefano's shoulder as he emerges from the back room. "De Luca, I'm guessing you made your decision?" he raises his brow smugly.
"A fanabla! Cazzo di merda." I spit.
"Calmarti," he laughs. "Calmarti, De Luca." My anger boils above breaking point as he condescends me, calm down? Fuck you.
I step forward and punch him in the face with every ounce of anger I have, sending him backwards towards Stefano. He finds his feet and brings his thumb slowly along his lip, wiping the blood that pools there with a disturbing smile on his face. "I did this for her, not for you. So you better start respecting me. I'm not the little child you could order around all those years ago," I spit, taking a step towards him. "So get your shit together, because I'm not scared of you anymore—boss."
I swipe the knife from Stefano's hand sending it clattering against the floor before walking out. As soon as I slam the door behind me I feel an overwhelming pain in my chest, and I try to breathe through my anger.
I return to the hotel and lock the door, stepping over the broken ornaments and wood scattered across the floor. I slide down the wall, my knees folding to my chest. My hands tug through my hair as I start to breathe heavier—I guess this is what they call rock bottom. I lean my head against the wall as I feel my eyes pool, I'm not used to this; I don't cry. I never cry. I haven't felt hurt in a long time, I don't remember the feeling well, I don't know how to deal with the it—but all I do know is that it feels like I'm suffocating, and I can't feel this. The only thing that helps is her, and she's gone. I refuse to feel this.
It is in this moment I make a decision. I decide to shut it out. I decide to simply not feel it, and I decide to go back to my old ways. It didn't do me any favours in America—but here, it's the only thing that'll keep me sane. I feel a sense of shame as I think about it, knowing that Amara wouldn't want me to turn my hurt into anger; she wouldn't want me to go back to my old ways, my mean ways—my cold ways. But here, any emotion is a mistake.
I swear to myself that I won't crack. Nobody will know that I'm being ripped apart from the inside out. I will be the ruthless soldier they need, and they will respect me. In a sense, and only for a second, I find myself glad I sent her away. Because I would never be able to live with the way she would look at me after this, after what I have to do to get by.
And that is exactly what happened, I became ruthless—I became someone I barely recognised anymore. I became respected. And in this world, respected is the most dangerous thing you can be.
—————
"De Luca, Marco wants to see you in his office." Dante rolls his eyes.
"Right." I groan.
"You wanted to see me?" I shrug as I close the door behind me.
He faces away, gazing out of the window at the opposite end of the room. "Did you get the job done?"
"Of course I did."
"Mmm," he hums. "You surprised me, De Luca."
"And why is that?" I roll my eyes.
He turns around slowly to face me. "I thought you had gone soft."
"Well I haven't." I defend.
"Mhm, it has been two months—maybe her grip has loosened on you," he licks his lips as he speaks. I clench my jaw in attempts to calm my temper. "—I mean, Miss Amara is probably fucking someone else by now-"
I throw him against the wall, pinning him tightly by the fabric of his silk shirt. "Take her name out of your fucking mouth." I spit.
He grins an enraging grin.
"I'm here, and I'm doing whatever the fuck I have to do—but you better take any trace of her existence out of your memory," I roar with gritted teeth. "I don't want you keeping tabs on her, thinking of her, or mentioning her to me ever again. Got it?"
He flashes me a tight lipped smile. "Yes, De Luca."
"The contract is over if you so much as look the road she walks on, do you understand? It's fucking finished." I spit, loosening my grip and allowing him to stand again.
Careless, I've been described as by the others. Who the hell challenges the boss? They say to me. But I know Marco, and I'm not fucking scared of him. Not anymore.
"I knew you were careless, but I never took you as a fool, De Luca," he brushes himself off. "You haven't signed the contract yet."
"Great, perfect time to add a clause."
*"Any contact with the person(s) in question: Miss. Amara Woods;
automatically warrants immediate nullification of the present contract signed by:
Mr. Mason Jaxon Loche,
previously: Mr. Mason Jaxon De Luca and: Mr. Marco Romano Bellucci
both parties must sign below;
_________ _________"*
Marco and I both sign the contract, him more reluctantly than me; but he knows it's a fair contract—and he had no other option.
He places the pen onto the desk, before shifting his narrowed gaze to me. "You really love that girl, Coglione?" he raises his brow.
I kiss my teeth. "I do."
He laughs lowly.
"Something funny?" I shrug.
"You spent so long trying to act like you didn't give a shit and now you just admit it like that? You are weak," he shakes his head in disgust. "Cretino."
"You mean besides the fact I just watched you sign a contact that forbids you laying a finger on her?" I pause, watching him scoff.
"I spent so long," I grit my teeth and take a step towards him. "Too fucking long, thinking that the way I felt about her would be a weakness. But Amara—" I pause.
"That girl is the only thing that guarantees your hold on me is only temporary. Because no matter how much you think you can chip away at my subconscious with the shit—" I swipe the content of his desk onto the floor. "—that you throw at me, the shit you put me through; I will never walk away from her. A year, two years, three—however long you use me as your errand boy..," I walk forward, backing him against the wall. "You don't have shit on me."
He shoves me backwards forcefully, and I stumble with a smirk on my face. "You used her against me once, Marco. I won't let you use her again, because what you didn't realise is that she is the one thing that will bring me back from the edge every time."
He grits his teeth and balls his fist against my shirt. "You forget that all contracts have to end, De Luca. I swear to you as soon as you leave-"
"Well, I'm glad you mentioned that, Marco—" I pat him on the shoulder smugly. "Because the contract you just signed states that you will never lay a hand on her, or her family, even after our little... rendezvous ends." I shrug, a wide victorious grin on my face.
He loosens his grip on my shirt with a furrowed brow. "Not reading the fine print?" I gasp sarcastically. "My, my—Marco. I knew you were careless, but I would've never taken you as a fool." my eyes light up as I repeat his words back to him.
I reach over his shoulder and grab the contract, rolling it up and shoving it in my back pocket. "Don't worry, I'll hold onto this so nothing happens to it." I smirk, walking out of the room with the first genuine smile on my face in months.
"Figlio un cane!" he screams after me.
I didn't know how Marco would react to my betrayal, but I knew that whatever it was, I was prepared for it. He gained respect for me that day, knowing that I wasn't the child that he could walk all over anymore—and if he treated me like I was, I would find pleasure in reminding him. Giovanni layed off me a little too, after that. I still fucking hate them, but having their respect isn't the worst thing in the world. They know they can trust me, even after what I did—more so, because of what I did.
—————
"Mason," an unfamiliar voice calls out.
I turn around and look him up and down, I haven't seen him around here before. He approaches me and stares at me for a second, it's kind of fucking weird. "Can I help you?" I click my fingers to gain his attention.
"I'm your brother." he blurts out. I let out a laugh and watch as his face remains serious. Brother? They think they can get to me by hiring a fake brother?
"Yeah, and I'm the boss around here," I scoff. "Well, I like to think I am."
"Mason, I'm serious." he raises his brow.
"Why are you using my first name? That's kind of weird around here. I would leave before Marco finds out you're playing make-believe."
He sighs. "My name is Lorenzo, perhaps you've heard of me." he raises his brow.
"Sorry to burst your bubble, but I haven't heard of you."
"De Luca," Giovanni's voice bellows as he approaches us. "He isn't lying, he's your brother."
I watch as Giovanni pats him on the shoulder, my eyes flickering between the two. What kind of twisted shit is this? What does he get out of this? "That's impossible, there was only two of us. Me, and my sister. Now if you don't mind I have work to do." I roll my eyes.
Giovanni stops me with his hand as I attempt to walk past. "De Luca, there was one before you—they gave him up for adoption," he tells me. "He didn't go far, and not long after you left he started working for me."
"Then why hasn't he been around the past four months?" I scoff. "You think I'm going to believe that?"
"Son, you'd be a fool not to. Just look at him," he groans, motioning towards Lorenzo. He does have the same eyes, same hair. No, this is bullshit. "He's been on a job for me, and now he's back."
"How old are you?" I ask.
"I'm twenty three." he answers, and as much as I don't want to believe it, I do. What the fuck?
"Well I don't need a brother, I've done just fine until now. If you're anything like the rest we'd be better off apart, anyway." I snap defensively.
"If anyone should be mad it's me," he scoffs. "You're the one they kept."
"Lucky you—" I clench my jaw. "Trust me, you were better off."
I walk outside and sit on the edge of the wall. This is bullshit. This just keeps getting better and better. I hear footsteps approaching me, and turn to find Elio, Giovanni's son. He's only 15. He's involved here, but not involved. I don't agree with him being in this shit so young, I know what that's like and it's no way to grow up. But growing up as the son of a mob boss, his future was written out before he was even conceived.
"He's a nice guy you know," he shrugs, taking a seat beside me.
"I didn't say he wasn't." I raise my brow.
"You may as well have." he scoffs, making me laugh. Touché.
"It's a complicated dynamic," I shrug. "Families kind of suck."
"Yeah," he sighs. "I'm ready to do what you do, you know. I'm not a stupid kid."
I raise my brow. "Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not," he snaps. "I'm ready."
I deliver a gentle punch to his stomach and watch him fold over. "Not ready." I smirk.
He rubs his stomach. "Then teach me."
"Teach you? No thanks."
"Teach me to fight." he tells me assertively.
I scoff, and he grabs my wrist. "Teach me to fight and I'll kick my dads ass." he smirks.
"Tempting," I laugh.
"Please." he pleas. I look at him as he looks at the floor, and it hits me. He reminds me of me. His need to impress his father resonates with me. I watch the way Giovanni interacts with him and it reminds me of my father and I. It's clear that he loves his son, but he doesn't respect him. That's the way it is in the mafia, you don't have your father's respect until you're old enough to earn it—prove yourself.
"Alright." I shrug.
"Really?" his eyes widen.
"Yes."
"Okay, where do we start?"
"Every morning, we'll start with self defence. Ever been in the boxing ring?" I ask.
"A few times."
"Well you're about to be in it a whole lot more, so make sure you want this."
"I do, I really do." he nods.
"Bright and early, rocky." I smirk, jumping off the wall.
I spend time with Elio, teaching him to fight. He was horrible to begin with, and couldn't block a punch if his life depended on it. Every morning for the next eight months, bright and early. He learned pretty quickly, and I gave him some lessons on other methods of defending himself; the ones that he'll see most in this kind of life. I felt a sense of responsibility for the kid. He's the only person around here I don't have to be a complete dick to to get some respect. He looks up to me, and he shouldn't—I'm not someone to look up to. But compared to the attention he gets from his father, it's no wonder the kid is so attached to me.
——————
One year.
I sit on the edge of this old building looking down, trying to rack my brain on what to write. Fucking hell, Mason. You only have one shot at this. I scrunch up the piece of paper I had been writing on and throw it over the edge. "Fuck." I groan, pulling my fingers through my hair. It's been the worst year of my life, undoubtably. I just want to remind her to hold on—to stay.
I look at the stars and feel calmer, knowing that she could be looking at them too. We still look at the same stars, no matter how far away we are—and I think that's pretty fucking cool. I put pen to paper and start to write again, without thinking, without trying, I just write what I've wanted to say for the past 12 months.
An hour later I finish the letter and find myself feeling worse than I had when I started. I let in a piece of myself I hadn't seen in a year, writing that letter. And it feels like it's eating me alive. I need a fucking drink.
I find a bar near my apartment and walk inside, only to see Lorenzo perched in front of it. Fucking great. We've managed to ignore each other, besides business, for months now—my night just can't get any worse.
I sit down beside him and my eye catches the bottle in his hand, whisky—and a half empty glass. "You drink whisky?" I raise my brow.
"Yep." he sighs, looking just as happy as me. "Want some?"
I nod, and he grabs a glass from behind the bar, filling it with the fiery liquid. I finish the glass in one and take a deep breath.
"For your girl?" he asks, making my head snap up. I follow his eyes to the envelope hanging out of my pocket and shove it in further.
"Mason, I'm not going to tell," he shrugs. "You're my family, and even if you don't want anything to do with me I have no reason to fuck you over."
I hold out my glass for another drink. I don't know what it is, but I just know he isn't lying. "You should post it out of the city, Marco has men all over this place." he advises me.
"Thanks," I nod.
"Eh, you know what they say," he shrugs. "Blood is thicker than the mafia."
I let out a laugh. It stays silent for a moment before I speak up. "I meant what I said, you really were better off."
He looks at me and shrugs his shoulders. "You're probably right. I had a good childhood, it was my decision to join Marco."
"Why?" I furrow my brow. "Why the hell would you do that?"
"Because I knew where I came from, and I just always felt out of place. Both of my adoptive parents were so pure, loving."
"How terrible for you." I roll my eyes.
"That came out wrong," he sighs. "You know what I mean, right? It's no way to live, trying to pretend you're someone you're not."
"Yeah." I sigh, taking another drink.
"Marco told me about dad," he clears his throat. "Sorry about all of that."
"It's whatever."
"I think we're a lot more similar than you want to admit." he shrugs, finishing another glass.
"I really don't think so."
"Mmm," he laughs. "You're right, I'm definitely the hotter brother but you're decent enough."
I roll my eyes. Maybe we are a bit more similar than I first noticed.
—————
Six months later.
"Ah, the De Luca boys—I've heard a lot about you." he grins, showing his golden plated smile.
"Funny, we hadn't heard about you until today." I shrug.
"I'm still waiting on my money, De Luca—now why would Marco send you instead of our agreed buyer?" he raises his brow with a devious smile. "You better not be backing out."
"Because we know all about your little... plans," I smirk, crossing my arms.
"Plans?" he plays dumb.
"Yes, plans." I emphasise. "And Marco... Marco doesn't like being lied to. Does he?" I turn to Enzo with a sarcastic expression of concern.
"Oh, no. He's a bit of a loyalist that way," he shrugs tormentingly. "Isn't he, brother?"
"Mhm." I nod.
I kick him in the shin, making him fold at the knees straight into my grip. I take my knife from my pocket and hold it to his throat. "You aren't lying to us are you, Russo?" I raise my brow, applying just enough pressure to allow a small drop of blood to trickle.
"Alright, stop." he hisses. I let go, putting my knife away and allowing him to stand to his feet.
He kisses his teeth and places his hand in his pocket. I nudge Enzo's shoulder to ensure he sees what I do. "I don't know what you're talking about." he shrugs.
I scoff, shaking my head. "We think you do, Russo, and we both know that you're in way too deep to try to challenge us."
He hesitates, his hateful stare flickering between Enzo and I. He smiles a sickening smile before swiftly pulling a gun from his pocket. He points it directly at me, but before he can even open his mouth Enzo has a gun pressed to his head. "Don't pull a gun on my brother, I will put a bullet through your skull faster than you can move your finger to that fucking trigger." he spits.
I watch him hesitate again before he starts to lower the gun. I wrap my hand around it and pull it from his grip. "I'll take that." I groan, sliding it into my back pocket. "We really could've done this the nice way, Russo—why'd you have to go and do that?"
Enzo takes his gun and hits him over the head with it forcefully. As he falls to his knees I grasp a fist of his hair and pull him towards me. "Tell your boss, that you screwed up, and that he better fix it. We don't want to have to come back for a second date." I whisper in his ear, before throwing him to the ground.
Enzo flashes me a smirk, twirling his gun in his fingers before sliding it back into its place. "I told you I had your back." he gloats.
"Yeah, yeah." I roll my eyes. "It was a team effort."
——————
I walk into the warehouse and immediately feel the tension in the room. "He called you too?" I raise my brow to Enzo.
"Yep." his face twists in confusion. "This is weird, right? It's not just me?"
"Its fucking weird." I groan. I look around to see only a few of Marco's soldiers, and Enzo and I. Besides that, nobody is here. It's quiet.
"Mason," a breathless voice calls to me as he hurries over.
"Elio, whats wrong?" I furrow my brow.
"We have a problem." Marco's loud voice fills the room. I turn to see him and Giovanni standing in front of us, scanning their surroundings.
"What kind of problem?" Enzo asks.
"A bad one."
"The Romano deal went south. Our men didn't return with the shipment, only a missing finger." he kisses his teeth angrily.
My eyes widen and Enzo and I look to each other. "I got rid of him, useless piece of shit," he seethes. "Couldn't fight off a cold if he tried."
"I need my best men, they were taunting me. And you know I don't like to be taunted."
"What do you want us to do?" I ask.
"Get my fucking shipment!" he yells.
"That's not our job. I told you I don't fuck with the cartel anymore." I retort, and watch his fists clench by his side.
"It's your job now. I told you I needed my best men, and you are my best," he addresses the few in the room. "Get it to me and if they try anything, you know what to do."
"Bullshit." Enzo mumbles under his breath.
"Rocci scoped out the place while he was there, there's only three men. Get in, get out. Got it?" he orders.
"Yes, boss." I shrug reluctantly.
"Best men, brother." Enzo smirks to me.
"I want to go." Elio asserts.
"No." both Giovanni and I say in unison.
"I told you, kid. Your time will come, but you're not ready yet. Not for this." I tell him, giving him a pat on the shoulder.
"Mason, I can do this." he furrows his brow.
"Stay here, El. I mean it." I warn him.
We make our way there and open the doors. It's silent. Nobody to be seen. We move slowly inside and close the door behind us. A few metres ahead is a table with duck taped packages placed on top of it; it's Marco's supply. We move closer before a sinking feeling makes its way into my stomach. "Stop." I warm them, placing my arm out to stop everyone in their tracks.
"What?" Enzo questions.
"It's too quiet." I tell him. You could hear a pin drop. Why would you be able to hear a pin drop? Why is it just sitting there? Not guarded. Open.
"Let's just get our shit." he tells me as he takes a step toward.
"No." I warn him forcefully, pulling him backwards. "I said it's too quiet."
I stay silent for a second and scan our surroundings before I hear the sound of a gun being loaded in the distance. "Fuck," I feel my heart stop. "It's a trap! It's a trap, get everyone out!" I yell.
Before I know it, the sound of gunfire erupts in the room and we're ambushed.
—————
My eyes flicker open and all I can see is lights. Lights moving fastly past me. I feel a mask on my face, what's going on? "Mason, you're going to be just fine." a faded voice tells me. Where am I? The lights slowly fade and I feel myself drifting off to sleep.
My eyes open slowly and I catch a glimpse of Enzo standing over me, I look around and find Giovanni, too. I try to speak but I can't. He doesn't see that I'm awake. Where the hell am I? My eyes become heavy and before I know it everything turns black once more.
"Mason."
"Mason."
The room lights up and it doesn't take long before I realise I'm in hospital. As everything becomes clearer I start to choke. My whole body goes into overdrive as I try to breathe, but I can't. Enzo calls for a nurse and within seconds a red haired woman is standing over me, removing a tube from my throat. The panic starts to pass as I take a breath, my whole body aching. She attaches another smaller tube to my nose and suddenly it begins to feel easier, but everything hurts.
"Are you trying to kill yourself, little brother?" Enzo jokes, but his face is full of worry and his eyes are low.
I try to laugh but a jolt of pain floods over my body making my breathing hitch. "Elio." I manage to mutter. I want to know if he's okay. Is he okay? I don't remember what happened.
"He's okay, you got the bastard." he assures me.
"What?" I whisper. My eyes are getting heavy again. I can't remember anything that happened. What happened?
"Nothing. You need to rest." he nods, adjusting the blanket.
"This is your ticket home, brother. Use it. Get home to her." he tells me, and before I can respond the darkness pulls me under a final time.
—————
"Sir, can you please turn off your phone? We're about to take off." the flight attendant smiles.
"Sure."
I place my phone in my pocket and shift uncomfortably in my seat. There's not enough pain meds in the world. What the hell am I going to tell Amara? I can't tell her what happened. The plane starts to move and I grab my chest—maybe I should've listened to the nurses. Three weeks in hospital is more than I can handle, I'm going home.
I lean my head on the window and look at the world below me getting smaller. Watching as I leave Italy—finally. I'm going home. The pain seems to fade, as does my worry when I realise that I'm finally returning home. My real home. To Amara.
In a matter of hours I'll hold her again, and all of this will go away. Everything will be okay.
—
{a/n— Alright, a small insight into Italy—into Mason and what he's been through the past two years.
I loved writing this chapter, think of it as a bonus chapter. Questions have been raised, but it'll all come out eventually.
What do you think of the chapter?!}