Angel's Mafia (gxg) ✓

XXXII | Vittoria Abbruzzi

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JUST LIKE THAT, I REMEMBER THE SHOOTING AT THE RESTAURANT.

I remember how she knew what to do when the bullets rained in through the glass, how she soothed the owner and tucked a wad of money into his hand. What kind of student does that? What kind of student can afford to do that?

Later, she said, "We." She told me, as she was explaining the history of the Mafia, that "we," as in her and her family, were going to help out the owner.

I asked her about it, but I remember how she skilfully evaded my question.

Holy shit. My roommate has been a part of the Mafia this whole time.

"Vittoria," I say slowly.

Immediately, she grabs onto me. "Cade, if you're in trouble, let me help. I don't know why you left, but I know it wasn't family business if that's your family. If it's the Mafia, let me know now, please."

I open my mouth to protest or lie, but I just look into her brown, almond-shaped eyes, so clearly begging me to let her help me, and I tell her.

I tell her everything.

It's a while before she says anything, but she murmurs, "You're in deep. And the Falcone leader . . . I thought it'd be a man. This changes things."

"Please don't tell anyone," I say, stiffening.

"I won't," she says. "But you say that Dominic asked you to meet him at the museum at three, right?"

I nod.

"Then let's get going," she says, grabbing her jacket and a worker's vest.

"We? There's no we! You can't come. They'll know I told you."

"Dominic and I . . . we go way back. He'll let me come. The Abbruzzis and the Falcones once had an alliance, before the Falcone dons were slaughtered. This is my peace offering."

"Your peace offering is you coming to the museum and helping us steal?"

"Exactly. A peace offering."

Then I remember what Dominic said―about Dante Rosso coming. I tell that to Vittoria, too, and she startles, surprised.

Then she lets out a sigh and says, "It all makes sense."

"What makes sense?"

"There was a rumour among the Falcones that they had a snitch. The snitch told the Genoveses the Falcones were in some major debt and they were going on some adventure."

So Dante Rosso is the reason Alessandro died. He's the reason Angel had to kill. He's the reason we were shot, multiple times, as we went across the world. I defended him to Angel, but the piece of shit didn't deserve it.

I picture Alessandro's last heaving breath as he told us to tell his mother and wife he loved them.

My fists curl.

But I say, "Let's go, then. Don't want to be late."

DRESSED IN NEON ORANGE WORKER CLOTHES, WE stand out and yet―it's a strange, miraculous thing. We stand out so much we blend in. We're written off, dismissed. People don't question us as we stride through the museum, carrying a trolley.