The following days are a blur as I cope and process everything. Imagining one day all of this will be over, I'll go back to my normal life and Ruby won't be there... that life just doesn't sound normal to me.

My life won't ever be normal again. Getting tangled with the mafia left its permanent scar. One that'll never heal entirely. Unlike the bullet wound on my arm that doesn't hurt anymore, with a small scar left as its reminder.

The only person who ever cared about me after Mom is now gone for good. Because of me.

If we hadn't been friends, she would've been alive. I can't imagine what her family's going through.

Despite the pain and grief, all the suffering in my life trained my brain not to dwell on painful things. My brain's survival mechanism kicked in on the third day.

I'm a survivor, a fighter. I will fucking fight.

The men, from the associates, the soldiers, to the ones on the top of the hierarchy, they'll all pay for messing with me, turning my life upside down, and killing my only friend.

It won't bring Ruby back, but I'll give her the justice she deserves. Be it from all the wrong, illegal ways. I'll make them regret turning me into a goddamn bait for seven-eight mafias.

Marco's been a sweetheart, spending the bigger part of his days with me. On the fifth day, I told Marco about my plan and for the following five days we plotted together.

During these past ten days, Elio stayed away from me.

Yes, I said I don't want to see him, and I really didn't. For fuck's sake, if the asshole wasn't so fixed on figuring out everything before anything else, maybe these deaths could've been avoided.

Yet, it'd be a lie if I say I wasn't expecting him to show up... like, just once.

But he didn't... and now I'm pissed.

Not at him. At myself.

Mortifyingly I'm sad and disappointed he didn't even once come; it makes no sense, hence I'm annoyed.

A girl should know what she wants. I didn't want to see him, I wanted space... he respected my wishes—for the first fucking time!—but now I'm sad that he did... and I maybe kinda sorta miss him. Oh my God, what is wrong with me!

I groan and shove my fingers through my hair.

I'm a mess.

For the last three days, I've been itching to go to him, but I lacked the courage and it felt like kicking my pride in the gut, so I stayed put.

Today, I'm going to him, since apparently, the bastard is planning on avoiding me until I make the first move. At least, I have a solid plan—as an excuse—at my disposal to disclose it with him, to ruin the Russian mafias.

I nod to myself as I draw a sharp breath. The room still smells like fresh paint, tickling my nostrils. The scent is nice, calming too.

I shake my head and tuck the pieces of my wayward hair behind my ears and open the door.

Elio's bedroom door flies open on my left, startling me as Marco rushes out. He pauses and glances over my shoulder into my room.

"Can I help you?" I ask.

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. "'Ave you seen Elio?"

With a frown, I tilt my head. "No." He's been avoiding everyone? Weird. "Is something wrong?"

He throws his arms up, shrugging dramatically. "No one 'as seen hima." Marco holds up his hand as he counts off with his fingers. "Hi called his house, no hanswers. I called the gaurdsa, they say Elio left hearly morninga. Hi checked hevery storage and spota from Palermo to Milan but he is nowherre! Not heven Pietro knowsa wherre he isa."

He stomps down the hallway and I follow him. "Have you checked his study?"

"Hi am telling you he is nota-"

"Not like that, you idiot. I mean his notes."

He throws me a dirty look and I brush it off with a smile. "I 'ave, but nothing. Heven Comare doesn't know where he is."

I stop dead in my tracks. "Slava is back?" I ask with horror.

Marco halts. An apologetic smile curling his mouth. "I forrgot to tella, scusa."

I huff as we descend the steps and climb the other staircase, going towards Elio's study and entering it.

Marco shuts the door and plops down on the armchair. "Now you tella me, which capo disappearrs without telling his consigliere?" He pinches his fingers together, waving his hand as he talks irritably. "Un capo stupido," he grumbles.

I laugh as I go through Elio's notes, scattered around his desk. Flipping through the third notebook, I halt on an empty page with only one line scribbled on top of it. With a frown, I squint and study it before comparing the handwriting with the other notes.

Unlike the rest, it seems like he's taken more care in writing it, not that I can even guess what's it about. The alphabet's Russian. On the top corner of the note, the number twenty-five is written, today's date.

"Do you happen to know how to read Russian?" I question hesitantly.

"Che cosa?" He jumps from his seat and dashes toward me, studying the six words on the page.

Marco points at the first one. "This isa pound."

"How do you pronounce the word?"

"Funt."

My frown deepens. "The others?" A part of me can already guess where this is going, but I'm scared of acknowledging it.

"Avos, maybe," Marco says after a pause, the creases on his brow grow more prominent as he focuses on the next word. "Bagazh... hi think it meansa luggage." He scratches his chin and leans closer to the desk.

"He's gone to Fabris."

"Che cosa!" Marco's head snaps to me.

"F, A, B... so far the three words that you've read-"

"But they make sense... he's talking abouta drrug..." his voice trails down as he motions his hands from left to right, as though moving stuff.

"For you yes, that's probably why he wrote it like that." I shrug.

He freezes. "Cazzo!" He shoves his hand through his hair and grabs the phone on the desk. The next moment he's briskly talking. I gaze at the female statue on the other end of the room, wondering why Elio went to Fabris without informing Marco. It makes no sense.

Marco falls silent for a long moment before his eyes widen and he gasps. He slams the phone down, making me jump. "Ten mena! That's how many he has takena with 'imselfa." He storms to the door.

"Where are you going?" I rush behind him.

He throws his arms up. "Hi don'ta know!" Marco turns to me. "Gunfirring sounds 'ave been cominga frrom Fabris' mansion frrom morninga. Pietro hand I will trry to come up with a backup plana hand go therre. The coglione betterr be halive. Hif you see him, tella me, okay?"

I nod and he bolts down the stairs. I stay rooted to the spot, barely breathing evenly. Cold sweat breaks over the back of my neck as my fingers grow icy. Raw fear scrapes my insides. He can't be dead, right?

I shake my head. No no no. Please don't die. Not now. Not like this. Goddammit.

With trembling legs and ragged breathing, I return to my room and pace up and down. I can't even imagine him being killed.

Why would he voluntarily put himself in a position that can potentially kill him? Is he fucking insane!

The room feels too small, the walls pressing down on me. I open the gigantic glass doors letting fresh air in, before stepping out and pacing on the balcony.

It makes no sense. None of it!

Why go to Fabris with only ten men?

Why hide it from his consigliere and underboss?

Why am I scared shitless for his well-being?

I tug my hair as I walk in circles. The morning sun beats down on me, the warm early summer temperature isn't helping.

I can't lose anyone else. Even though I shouldn't give a damn about Elio, he's an outlaw after all, I can't bring myself to see anything beyond how much he's been good to me... or at least to the best of his abilities.

I'm about to lose him too. A frustrated scream builds at the back of my throat. I can't lose him... actually I don't want to lose him—in the essence of death. Definitely nothing beyond that.

I grip the railing tight enough it hurts my palms.

A movement from the grounds catches my attention. I lean over and gasp, "Elio!" Instant relief washes over me.

His head snaps up and I have to hold back another gasp, worry replacing the relief instantaneously. Blood trickles down a side of his face and his forehead is marred with a patch of dried blood. He offers a smile. The fucking audacity!

I open my mouth but he holds up a hand. "One minute."

Disbelieved, I gape at him as he sets his foot on one of the bricks and starts climbing.

The second my shock subsides, I notice him using only one hand, or wincing whenever he has to use his left arm. Yet, it doesn't hinder his speed as he climbs the wall and within a minute, he's grabbing the railing and hauling himself up.

That's when I see it. A hole through his black shirt's sleeve, with the entire side damp... damp with blood.

I cover my mouth in horror. "You need a doctor!" I'm about to turn but he grabs my wrist.

"About that, how about you don't make a fuss and we keep this between us. I really don't want everyone to know."

I huff an incredulous laugh. "So you're aware how ridiculously stupid you've been? Good, but no." I try to wiggle out my wrist from his grip but fail.

His brows furrow with confusion and I can't tell if his skin has really lost its tan glow and is turning pale or if my mind is projecting it. "And how do you know what I was up to?"

"Seriously!" I throw my free arm up. "Because you're dumb, that's how. Not let go."

He raises a speculative eyebrow, not backing down from my glare.

"You really think you can march off to Fabris' place and no one'll find out? What were you thinking! Ten men! You could've died! How can you be so reckle-"

He rolls his eyes, interrupting me with a scoff, "And you'd care if I die? Don't bullshit me, Cerise."

The burst of anger, making me see red isn't justified. Neither is the hurt, annoyance, indignation, and long list of things whirling around me. Yet, I'm feeling all of them.

I was worried sick; I still am with the bullet that's lodged inside of him and he has the audacity to mock me!

"Now, you'll stop with your pretense and we'll keep this between us," Elio finishes.

I clench my jaw as I scowl at him. The second his hand falls away from my wrist, I slap him hard.

My palm stings from the contact. His head whirls to me, his eyes wide with shock.

I wave my index finger. "That's for being stupid, and saying shit," I say through gritted teeth, my voice wavering from anger... and a little hurt. I point at the bed. "Now if you're done being an idiot, sit on the bed and wait."

I run to the door, telling the men standing in front of my door to bring Marco and tell him to call the doctor.

A tremor travels down my hands as I slam the door and glance at Elio, with his entire focus glued to me.

"I'd forgotten how bossy a prosecutor can be," he muses, a corner of his lips twitching.

"What were you even thinking!" I shake my head as I pace up and down. "You weren't thinking, that's the problem! A-and-"

"I'm alive."

I halt across him. "Do you realize, if the bullet had been a few inches to your left you could've died!" I shout the last word and shove my hands through my hair, my body trembling. "Do you even grasp how serious this entire situation is! And you're sitting there, smiling, and mocking the situation! What the hell is wrong with you! You could have been dead!" I pant as his eyes narrow on me.

I march to the bathroom, trying to be useful.

"Cerise, I'm fine," he calmly says.

"No, you're not," I snap over my shoulder and go through the cabinets, searching for a first aid kit.

The bedroom door opens. "Hi called the doctorra-" Marco stops and a stream of Italian curses rushes out of him.

I find the kit and return to the bedroom.

Elio is nonchalantly brushing him off.

"I don't know what to do," I tell Marco, while Elio rolls his eyes.

"I really can't put up with two drama queens right now," Elio mutters as I hand the kit to Marco who snarls something in Italian.

"Puta prressure," he says, motioning his hand to the bullet wound as he fishes out his phone again.

I do as Marco says, tentatively, all the while Elio's gaze follows me like a hawk. Marco talks to whoever's on the other line and leaves the room. A minute later he's back with a clean shirt, huffing something in Italian.

Finally, the doctor arrives. Elio starts unbuttoning his shirt, I purse my lips and reluctantly kneel on the bed, swatting his hand away and doing it for him.

A smirk curls his lips and I glare at him, turning his smirk into a lopsided smile. "You never fail to surprise, tesorino," he murmurs as I carefully peel away the sleeve from his wounded hand.

"And you never fail at being an infuriating asshole."

Elio grabs my wrist again as the doctor settles on the other side, beginning his inspection. "Stay with me, will you?" he quietly asks, locking his eyes with mine.

❈ ☯︎ ❈

Hmm... any thoughts on Cerise's thoughts, reactions, and how worried she was about him =)

Oh and also what do you think about the slap? xD

Thank you so much for reading this chapter, and staying around, honestly, and I hope you stick around for the rest of the journey =)

Stay safe, lots of love, happy reading ♡♡♡