Iris Giorgianni is no ordinary girl. She's living a double life: a neglected daughter at home, but a fighter on the streets. As the leader of The Sangue - one of the most wanted and well-known gangs in London - Iris has a reputation to uphold. Only...
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"As I walked out the door toward the gate that would lead to my freedom, I knew if I didn't leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I'd still be in prison."
- Nelson Mandela
SHE STOPPED the car right outside the opening to the building, taking in a deep breath.
What she was doing right now was incredibly dangerous; more so than anything she'd ever done before. But it was the only way. And as selfish as it sounded, she hoped that Levi would thank her one day. Even if she wasn't around to see that.
As she waited in the car, surrounded by nothing but darkness, Iris found herself reaching for Hunter's phone, dialling one of the only numbers she knew off by heart. As the phone rang, she silently hoped that he would pick up and ignore the random number from a foreign line.
"Pick up. Come on, pick up." She whispered quietly, the words travelling quietly out of her chapped lips. "Please."
Just as she was about to end the call, he answered, his familiar voice providing a wave of relief to run through her. She was surprised, to say the least, of her own feelings.
"Matteo Giorgianni speaking." His voice was calm and clear, although the monotonous tone of his business reply reminded Iris of her father, and how he would answer the hundreds of calls he'd pick up every week.
Iris breathed shakily as they both waited on either end. "Matteo."
The background sounds on his end of the phone seemed to dull, as if he'd moved somewhere quieter. Matteo cleared his throat. "Ris? Is that you?"
"Yeah." She smiled, wiping her wet cheeks with the back of her left hand. "I just...wanted to call you. Sorry. I know it's a bit unexpected and all, but-"
"No, I'm glad." He paused. "Iris, I'm worried about you. Where are you?"
She glanced at the building ahead of her, standing eerily in the empty slab of concrete. "Georgia. I've got something that I need to do."
Matteo cursed under his breath. "Iris, Mum and Dad are pissed out of their minds. Didn't you know that Camp would call them?"
"I gathered." She swallowed, imagining their reactions. They would disown her. Not that it mattered anyway – they hated her and always would.
Her brother was silent for a while, revelling in his own thoughts. He was likely to be at work, even though truthfully, she had lost track of what time it would be over there. Matteo was always working anyway. Even when he was supposed to rest. "You're not – Iris, tell me you're not in trouble."
"I can't say that." She breathed in slowly through her nose to control her breathing. "Matteo, I'm not going to lie to you. I wanted to call...to speak to someone."
"Iris. What the fuck is going on. Are you alone?"
"It doesn't matter." She wiped her nose. "I want to hear your voice before I go."
