Chapter FIFTY ONE

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Mikki De'lucca

A black sedan pulls up by the downtown curbside where you wait in the cold, wrapped up in the Bratva Captains expensive designer Jacket.. Your cousin leaps out from behind the wheel, loping around to the sidewalk to meet you with a sigh of relif.. "Mick! Bella! I can't believe you're okay!" Rocco wraps his big arms around you, squeezing you to his chest..

"Oof-- Yeah, I'm fine, Rocky.." You sigh, hugging him back as tightly as you can manage.

He takes you by the shoulders, drawing back to look down at you.. "Wait-- what happened to your hair? And what the fuck are you wearing?!"

You roll your eyes, sapped of energy and too tired to explain it all again to him.. You'd already spent fifteen minutes on the phone to him just to convince him it was safe for him to drive downtown to the dicehouse to pick you up.. You step around him as he pulls the passenger door open for you and you slip into the luxurious leather interior.. "Ugh.. Seriously, don't ask.."

You lean back in the comfortable seat, waiting as Rocky returns to the driver's side and flips the ignition, the engine of the sporty Mercedes roars to life.. "I can't believe the Russians just let you walk free.." He frowns, looking in the rearview mirror as he pulls away from the dicehouse..

"Me neither.." You hum, allowing your eyes to drift close for just a brief moment of peace..

"I can't believe that confederate-fuck was working for them." Rocco pulls his vape pen from his jacket pocket, sucking on it stressfully, his knuckles turning white as he grips the steering wheel..

Your eyes snap open.. "Confederate? Colt's from Alabama, Rocky, that doesn't automatically make him a member of the fucking KKK.." You sniff, swatting at the nasty vapor that plumes around you.. "And I told you, he didn't abduct me.. I ran away."

He scoffs.. "Sure.. You just fucking ran?.. Why?"

You rub your temples.. "The poison, Rocco.. For fucks sake.. Keep up.. Somebody had to have paid the doctor to feed me the Belladonna, that's the only explanation.. "

"Yeah! The fucking Russians! Dax is fucking dead! They're coming after all of us, Mick--" The fearful rise to his voice has you reaching out to place a hand over his..

"No, babe.. It's not the Russians.." You soothe in a sisterly way, petting his shaky hand between yours..

Your cousin pauses hesitantly.. "You don't get it Mick.. Hella bad shit has gone down since you disappeared.."

"What do you mean?"

"Shit.. I don't know how to tell you--" He shakes his head, taking an enormous drag of his watermelon mist and holding it in as he speaks.. "Mikki.. I know you think Angelo had something to do with all this..But--"

"But what? Spit it out.." You drop his hand, turning to him with the demand.

A great cloud engulfs you, the sugary scent of it seeping into your hair and clothes as Rocco exhales and you feel the tingly sensations of the second hand high taking effect.. "Angelo-- He's been out of it for almost a week now.. He's barely conscious half the time.. Vinny has been trying to handle everything , he's out there dealing with the doc right now, but-- Shit Mick-- The vultures are circling.. It's only a matter of time before our competitors realises how weakened the cartel is--"

Your brain aches as Rocky babbles the new information all in one breath, nervous and afraid.. "Wait-- what do you mean? Doesn't papa have Colt back at the house?"

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