To be a Criminal

Chapter 5

"I'm so dead," Franco mutters to himself as we arrive back to the overtowering mansion we call home. The car ride back was silent and empty. The lack of presence from the two men we initially left with created a heavy atmosphere that both of us ignored the whole way through.

I was planning on going straight to my room. The sun had gone down hours ago and my body grew tired as I had yet to rest. Franco rests a hand on my shoulder and leads me to Enzo's office. Understanding that I would need to be there I followed. He pushed the wooden door open to reveal and the polished room decorated with a wooden interior and a sturdy, dark oak desk right in the center. Bookshelves line the left side of the wall crammed with various stories and documents. Enzo sits on his leather chair, not having noticed us yet, he flips through a couple of pages of writing. I closed the door with a slight thud to get his attention. His head flips up.

"What's wrong?" He immediately questions, having noticed Franco's obviously distraught expression.

"Angelo figured out our package wasn't of the quality he was paying for, two of our men are dead and we only got half the money," Franco said bluntly, not wasting any time. I figured that Enzo would be livid, but he only sighed. Bringing his hands up to rub his forehead, he looked exhausted.

"We can't have our alliance with the Angelo's broken," I raise my eyebrow at his statement. "We owe a lot to them," he mutters mostly to himself. Finally, he looks up at us, his expression quickly changing. "Tell me why he was given a mixed package and not a pure one?" His voice raised slightly.

"I'm really not sure sir, there must've been some sort of miscommunication. I'll have someone look into the situation." Franco rambled on about someone losing their job and I tuned out. Moving over to the couch I drop down and laid my head back. Still paying attention, but barely processing the words. I closed my eyes.

"Why do we owe so much to the Angelo's?" someone asked. Only after a second did I realize that someone was me. I never speak up, but I guess curiosity got the best of me. Enzo turned to me as walked back to his chair. Sitting down and crossing his legs over each other he leans back as if he was trying to getting comfortable.

An hour later I walk out of the office learning that Enzo was nothing until Santino Angelo, Luca's father, helped him off the streets. Raised him and provided a home for him. Enzo knew that that place would never be permanent. When he was old enough he parted with the Angelo's and went his own way with an agreement of alliance. Enzo built his empire by learning from the best. Romano raised quickly and with power because of his agreement with Angelo, but everyone knew that no one would beat the ruler. Enzo Romano really did owe everything he had to Angelo.

After showering and changing into a large shirt and some shorts I slip into bed and let sleep overwhelm me. But what I did not allow was the creeping thoughts of the man with green eyes. The way his figure towered over me. How his smile caused my heart to skip a beat. I finally drift off as my mind returns to normal, swallowing the comfortable darkness.

The next morning I get woken up by the most annoying repeated beeping sound. I grab my alarm from the bedside table and throw it across my room with a strong force, it shatters into pieces and the noise finally stops. Allowing myself to enjoy only the next couple of minute, I drag myself up and out of bed. The day starts early around here, around 6:00am everyone is up. And about 7:30am everyone's had breakfast, gotten ready, and start to head out to do whatever they have to do. I quick pull myself together, throwing a loose knit sweater over my shoulders and some jeans. Of course my heeled boots go on and my rings. I make sure to tuck a couple of knives in my shoes before leaving my room. I swiftly enter the kitchen where Franco and a couple of other men are wandering with coffee in their hand. I grab a waffle from the stack and shove it in between teeth on the way out the door. Today I had a hit job on some man who has been buying our product but reselling them for a higher price to others, with a new name and brand. Basically, he took money that could've, no, should've been ours.

I swing my legs over the leather seat of my bike. The black colour reflects its surroundings with a clean polished look. Revving up the engine, I release the break and start off towards my location. The wind slithers through my hair and brushed past my cheeks. The blur of colors and the muted sounds make me smile. I love it. Zooming down the roads I finally make it to a building. Opposite lays a restaurant at which my target will be dining at. I drive up the parking floors and situate myself on one of the highest floors. I hop off my bike and lift up the seat. There lays a slim gun. I pull it out a rest it against the ledge. Most of me is hidden behind a pillar so I'm virtually invisible. After a couple moments, I see the man walk into the restaurant and take a seat near the window. Oh this is going to be easy. Less than ten minutes later and that man is now laying in a puddle of his own blood. It flows smoothly from the bullet wound in his head. I brush off my sweater and am already on my way out.

As I drive through the streets, I pass an ambulance and a couple of police cars that no doubt are headed to where I just came from. I smile, satisfied with the riot a caused. I find myself turning around the corner to where my mother lived. The old, broken apartment that I had stayed in. I guess I memorized the way here subconsciously. Parking my bike on the side of the road, I don't knock at the front door, but rather climb up the fire escape to my room. I tug at the window that is suspiciously locked. My mother never cared for safety or security so I was a little confused. I peered in. There is a small bed that replaced mine and toys lay scattered across the floor. It all looked so much nicer and cleaner than I had remembered. The door to the room was left ajar, I could see her. I saw my mother sitting on the couch smiling. Her cheeks are red and her skin looked healthy. Then I realized why she was smiling. In her arms is a kid. A boy. I didn't even realize that my mother would choose to keep the baby. That day she tested positive she had left in such a hurry. I had a baby brother. And he has the life I never had. My mother really cleaned up her act. She did it for him but not for me. I didn't realize but I had been crying. Tears stain my cheeks and my breathing turned heavy. Quickly scrambling down the ladder I mount my bike and just drive. I drive for what seems like hours. My face is now dry and no remnants of me being emotional were left. Something inside me broke. And its piece was piercing into my heart. How come she didn't even try to be better for me? Why didn't she even try to find me? Did she even love me? I find myself arriving back home. Or the place that I now call home since this is where the people who care for me are. I push the bike into the garage and get off.

My steps feel weighted as I push open the front door. I had blocked everything and everyone out that I didn't even notice my name being called until someone shouted.

"Amira!"

I stop in my tracks and swiftly turn around towards the living room. Three people are seated alongside Franco and Enzo. The Angelo's.