Twisted Faith

21

Chapter Twenty-one| Tyla

"Shit!" He threw more things on the ground, making me jump from the loud noises. My head slowly buried deep within my knees. Both Apollo and Aris were in the corner of the rooms. The quietness that filled the room did not feel like them. This was my fault. I let her go. If I would've done something, anything, then maybe she would still be here. They were coming after me, not her, and I was the one he let her go.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, "It was all my fault. Those guys were coming after me, and she protected me. If only I did something."

I heard a deep sigh, "Look at me."

My head lifted to see Cristian on his knees, crouching in front of me. His eyes soften while they stared into mine. It just seems so unreal to think he was the same Cristian in the beginning. The old Cristian would've have been shouting or blaming me right about now. Or better yet threatening to kill me.

"It's not your fault," He stated, slightly gripping my wrist softly, "None of this is...it's mine."

"How?" I questioned, "They were coming after me. Maybe it's my brother's fault; that's why and I. brought it upon you all."

"No, it's not that," He started.

"I think it's time," Apollo interjected, "Tell her then maybe she would understand."

He nodded, "Give us some privacy."

They both exited out of the room, leaving Cristian and me alone. It was silent, he didn't say anything but sat in the other chair beside me. I tapped my fingers against the arm of the chair. I didn't know what was going to happen.

"So, what did you have to tell me?" I asked.

He sighed, "Remember when I told you not to worry about what I did for my job?"

I shook my head, "Your payout was too big just to own a club."

He chuckled a bit before acting seriously again, "I don't only own that club. My family is in a dangerous business that I will be head of."

"Okay, what is that business?" I asked.

He sat up and looked me dead in my face, "The mafia."

I laughed. Hysterically laughed in Cristian's face while holding my stomach. One tear slid from my right eye as I wiped with the back of my hand. He can't be serious, can he? There is no way he is in the mafia. When I gazed in his direction, he was not laughing at me. His face stayed severe the whole time I was laughing.

"You're serious," I muttered, and he just stared at me, "I'm going to die."

That's when my panic attack begins—the thoughts accelerating inside my head. I want them to slow so I can breathe, but they won't. My breaths come in gasps, and I felt like I will blackout. My heart is hammering inside my chest as it belongs to a rabbit running for its skin. The room spins, and I squat on the floor, trying to make everything slow to something my brain and body can cope entirely. I feel so sick.

Cristian walked over to me and tried to put his on my back, "Tyla, you're going to have to calm down."

I couldn't even look at him. The voice I once had couldn't emerge from my throat to tell him to 'Fuck Off.' Now, it all made sense. Gisella's fighting, Apollo's need for searching skills, and Aris's ability to know and use guns. My hand slapped my head multiple times.

What the fuck did I just get myself in?!

"Tyla?" He called out, "Stop that! Come here."

With one swoop, he picked me up, bridal style carrying me towards the bed. He made sure that I was sitting up, "Count to ten."