"I'm not having this fucking conversation with you again Y/N, you have to stay here." Tom was fuming.
"It's not my fault you killed your rivals son without realising the poor fucker was actually his son." You snapped, fixing your earrings in the mirror.
"Jonathan knows everything about this family Y/N. If he knows you're wandering the clubs tonight, which believe me, he will, it'll be your funeral next." Tom's angry voice was enough to make you shiver in your own skin.
"Maybe you should think twice before shooting Thomas." You hissed, and he knew you were angry because of the name you had called him.
"You're pissing me off Y/N, you're really pissing me off." He bellowed.
"Don't fucking talk to me like that!" You shouted as you whipped your head around.
"I married a mob leader, I knew what I was getting myself into, but it sounds an awful lot like you think I'm not capable of looking after myself. You've ruined my night already, and now thanks to you, I have to cancel my plans." You threw your bag at him and ran up the stairs.
"And if I see my bedroom covered in heaps of cocaine and weed packages one more time, I'm going to flush them all!" You shouted, and Tom knew he had pushed a line. Regardless, he always pushed your anger aside, and let you cool down. But when you didn't cool down, was when he started to worry.
"Night love." He got in the bed next to you and you got up straight away.
"Where are you going?" He asked.
"The sofa." You bluntly replied. Tom let out a huge sigh and tried his hardest to sleep without you by his side. He made sure to get up early the next day and make breakfast for you.
"I made you breakfast." He smiled proudly but you let out a huff and went straight upstairs to the shower. When you got out, the house was eerily silent, and when you looked outside of the bedroom window, Tom's car was gone, and another car had been replaced.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." It was Jonathans. You grabbed the handgun from the nightstand and loaded it with ammo. You heard someone moving around downstairs and the emergency alarm was sounding.
Tom would get the notification on his phone, and when he did, his eyes nearly fell out of his head. He recruited his entire team, knowing you were alone in the house.
All he was doing was buying you some makeup flowers, and chocolate, but even that plan fell through the roof.
"You're a bad bitch, you've got this." You said to yourself before quietly exiting the room. It was all clear so you sneakily headed down the stairs. There Jonathan was, back to you, looking at the huge canvas of you and Tom on the mantlepiece.
"If you don't turn the fuck around right now, I will kill you." You snapped and he slowly turned around with a smirk on his face.
"Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, two can play that game." He whipped his gun out from his side pocket.
"I thought Tom had morals about his company, that he killed men who really deserved it, but my son? You really think I would sit there and just forget I have to bury my own flesh and blood next week?" Jonathan shouted at you.
"Your son was thieving stock, killed one of our men, we're the Hollands bitch, we don't do things without purpose." You sarcastically smiled.
"You have an awful attitude for a women who gives off the impression she has pride in her work." Jonathan aimed the gun towards your head, but not before you could shoot him square in the nose. Tom and six other men ran in at the sound of gunshots. You ignored him and down next to Jonathans lifeless body.
"Rot in hell." You whispered.
"Y/N what the fuck happened?" Tom panicked.
"He's dead, and I want a glass of wine, so boys, please excuse me."
