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A Part of the Crowd
Last Updated:
2024-09-09 07:21:24
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EleniI fidget with the waistband of the leggings Dante packed in the bag for me to change into before entering the prison and wish they hadn’t taken my ring. Apparently, the whole “no metal allowed” thing isn’t really negotiable. A burly woman stands on the opposite side of the table from me, one hand on her thick baton and the other on a walkie-talkie. I clear my throat.“Vanessa?”She quirks an eyebrow at me.“Hank sent me.” I feel ridiculous. All these code words…it’s like I’m in a kid’s movie, not a women’s prison upstate.Still, that makes Vanessa hit something on her walkie that dims the constant static pouring from it a second before the door buzzes loudly. I look up.Escorted by two more guards, chained wrist to wrist and ankle to ankle, Camila stumbles in through the heavy door. She’s barely recognizable. Her long, beautiful hair shines with grease in its loose bun at the back of her neck. The orange jumpsuit does the opposite of her endless whites and pastels, turning her a
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DanteI lean against the wall of the elevator chugging up the building to where Eleni waits and look at myself in the shiny black reflection. My suit nearly disappears, but my face sticks out like a sore thumb. If elevator reflections can be believed, I look pale and tired. In its defense, I feel pale and tired. It’s Friday, and I’ve barely seen El all week except to pack her off to the women’s prison to talk to a psychopath who kidnapped her. Even worse, I’ve spent almost the whole week at Piacere.Just thinking about my once-beautiful club hurts. My shoes and the bottoms of my pants are gray from tramping through ash, trying to find anything in the wreckage worth salvaging. Somebody located the door to the basement, which is mostly untouched, on Wednesday, so we’ve been in and out of there constantly. I’ve got a metric fuck-ton of booze and nowhere to sell it. The stage, the lights, the bars, all gone in one blaze. Two people fucking died. Going out to Piacere every day is a nightma
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EleniDante stares down at me, his black eyes burning. A laugh bubbles in my chest. Camila is dead. She can never touch either of us or the baby again.“Did I ask you to kill her?” he says quietly.If I didn’t know him well enough to recognize the lilt of play in his voice even when he’s pretending to be exactly the mafia boss I met so long ago, I’d be frightened. Instead, I smile.“Did you ask me to go to the bathroom this morning?”He grabs my chin hard. “It seems I’ve been a bit lax in your training, pet. You’re acting out.”“I’m protecting this family.” I run my tongue over the tip of his thumb. “When you couldn’t.”He knows I don’t believe that, but I watch doubt flicker in his eyes for a second. His grip loosens.“Green?” I whisper.“Are you just trying to rile me up?” he replies.I nod. “I love you.”“I love you too.” He kisses the top of my head. “Green.”His hold on me tightens again as he snaps back into his persona. “I am more than happy to remind you what happens when you
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Eleni“Thank you,” Mikey, one of Dante’s older capos, says in his gravelly voice. “I know Dante’s been pulling things together for a couple weeks now, but it didn’t feel right starting things up again without toasting the kid.”I swallow against a lump in my throat and glance at one of the pictures of Seb hung in the room. “I know what you mean. And thank you for your help out here.”He raises a glass. “Hey, I’ll take the credit, but most of it belongs to my Adrianna.”His wife, a slightly tidier version of the mafia wives I’ve grown used to in Staten Island, smiles. “Don’t let Mikey trick you. He strong-armed the owner into letting us have the place on such short notice.”I raise an eyebrow. The quiet event space over the bridge in Partridge is perfect, close enough to the city to get back if something happens but far enough that we all agreed the Russians wouldn’t try to crash. That said, I’m not sure I want someone strong-armed into it.“Adri!” He laughs. “I promised to coach softb
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EleniAfter the funeral, Dante is quiet in the car. The windshield wipers fill the silence between us as we sit in traffic, headed back into the city.“Do you want to see Piacere?” he asks suddenly.I pluck at the hem of my dress. My stomach is still empty, grumbling in a way I know means I’m losing the next thing I put into it too, and I’m exhausted. But the club I spent so much time in this summer, the place Dante and I really met, is gone, and I haven’t really internalized that yet. Today seems like a day of saying goodbye to things. The secret growing inside me. What Seb and I could have been to each other, if only we had the time. I may as well look at the remains of the life I thought I was going to have when I entered Piacere that first night.“Yeah.”He twists the wheel, and we pull out of the traffic headed into Manhattan for the slightly lighter traffic aimed at our island. The long silence of the drive is almost meditative. Snippets of the last few months slide through my m
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EleniI wave goodbye to Kaley and turn away from her after yet another class. We’re…two weeks into the semester now? Three? No, Professor Villanueva was talking about midterms. How could so much time have passed already?Amando walks up beside me. “Headed home?”I shake my head. “Tony needs a little birdie, and it’s easier to hide my traffic under the other students here.”“But—”I put my hand up to silence him. “Just…let me have this, okay?”Amando stuffs his hands in his pockets and nods. I veer away from the hall that takes us to the back elevators and toward one of the many computer labs. Not that I’d actually use a school machine. That’s insane. But if I work on my laptop in the seating area right outside, it’s easy to spoof one of the IPs in there and disappear into the flow.That’s really how these last god-knows-how-many weeks have felt. Disappearing into the flow. I bounce between Tandon and the apartment, juggling school work and Saints’ work and morning sickness that shows
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Tatiana “You’re killing me, Angelo,” I whisper, my voice breathless as I squirm beneath him, trying to find the perfect angle, the perfect moment. The heat radiating from his body pressed against mine, but it’s not enough. I want more. I need more.Angelo’s lips curl into a grin, a wicked expression that makes my pulse quicken. He’s fully aware of the effect he has on me—always has been. His hands slip under me to grab my legs, shifting me until I’m lying back against the couch, my head sinking into the cushion.“This couch seems a bit small for both of us, don’t you think?” I ask, the playful tone in my voice belying the tension simmering underneath. I struggle with his shirt, trying to peel it off, but my hands are trembling too much.He glances around, his gaze flicking over to the bedroom door behind us. “Come here,” he commands, his voice low, dark.Before I can even process it, he’s standing, lifting me in his arms with an effortless strength that leaves me breathless. I wrap m
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Tatiana I stare at the screen, my brow furrowing as I try to make sense of the name. Guskov. It feels familiar, but I can't quite place it. I’m sure I’ve heard it before, maybe from Lev. But there’s something unsettling about the whole situation.“Do you know him?” Angelo’s voice cuts through the quiet, his tone curious but not without a hint of concern.I shake my head slightly, feeling the weight of the unknown pressing down on me. “His name rings a bell. I think Lev mentioned him once or twice, but I don’t really know him. Not personally, at least.”I begin scrolling through the messages, each one more concerned than the last. The words seem to echo with a sense of urgency, a beckoning for contact. ‘Lev, did you arrive?’‘Man, where are you?’‘Fuck… Oleg knows about Tatiana.’‘Tatiana?’‘Are you okay? Please call me when you get this message.’‘Where are you?’Angelo leans forward, eyes scanning the screen over my shoulder. “Looks like he’s been trying to get in touch with you fo
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Tatiana I wake before the sun rises, my body still tense from a night of restless sleep. I’d tossed and turned for hours, unable to shake the vivid flashes of the ambush from my mind. Twice, I jolted awake, breathless, and each time Angelo pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly until I drifted off again.It’s frustrating—infuriating, really—to realize how fragile I still am when it comes to facing my trauma. Last night, all I wanted was to toughen up, to stop being so affected by memories I can’t change. But how can I do that when the slightest trigger robs me of sleep and floods me with nightmares?Angelo tells me I’m being too hard on myself, but I can’t pretend it doesn’t eat at me. I was not raised to be weak. When I finally drag myself out of bed and into the shower, he’s still asleep, probably exhausted from being woken up repeatedly. I let the warm water run over me, careful not to soak my bandage. For a few quiet minutes, I let myself relax—though it feels selfish to do
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Tatiana Feeling Angelo inside me is everything I need after the night I’ve had—after the fear, the blood, the chaos.It's not just sex. It’s an anchor, a reassurance, a reclamation of power over my own body. The moment he touches me, all the trauma begins to unravel, thread by painful thread. He doesn’t just make me feel alive—he makes me feel wanted, needed, like I’m something precious he refuses to lose.The way he looks at me right now… like I’m the only thing that exists in his world. It makes me ache in places far deeper than the physical. I rock against him, my rhythm desperate, as if the faster I move, the further I can run from the horror of earlier tonight.“You’re driving me insane,” Angelo groans, his fingers digging into my thighs, holding me firmly in place. He’s trying not to lose control, and I can see it in the tension of his jaw, the restraint in his eyes.I smirk, breathless. “Glad to know it’s mutual.”My pace quickens, fueled by the growing fire low in my belly. E
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Angelo The ride back to Staten Island is cloaked in silence, thick and suffocating. After scolding Tatiana for what she did, I can’t trust myself to speak again without unloading everything I’m feeling—rage, fear, confusion. My hands grip the steering wheel like a lifeline, my knuckles bone-white under the overhead glow of passing streetlights.Tatiana’s forehead is still streaked with dried blood. Just glancing at it sends a sickening twist through my gut. I don’t know what I would do if I lost Tatiana. I stare hard at the dark stretch of highway ahead, trying to piece it together. Trying to understand how the hell we got ambushed. The Rominas—how did they find her? We hadn’t been followed, I was sure of that. No one knew where she went. She’d been driving alone, off the grid. So why did they show up in the exact spot she chose?Coincidence? No. Too perfect.Were they watching her all along? Waiting for an opening? That’s the only thing that makes any sense. The idea makes my jaw c
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TatianaI regret leaving the house the moment I reach the city. The buildings are monstrous, and I’m not used to a place as overwhelmingly chaotic as New York. At first, I was determined to head straight to the apartment Lev had rented—curious, optimistic, convinced that whatever he’d left there might hold answers about Oleg. I had hoped to find something, anything, that could help the Saints in their mission to dismantle the Romina Empire.I type the address Lev sent via email into the GPS, but I start recognizing the street names—familiar turns, shops and signs. Then I see it— the corner deli where Angelo kidnapped me that day. My stomach turns over and the blood in my veins turns to ice. I’m too close to the place where the wedding ceremony took place. Where I ran from. Where it all began.Emotionally, I begin to unravel and as if that’s not enough, I realize the car behind me has been changing lanes immediately after I merge for long enough that I’m being followed. Panic claws
Indebted to the Mafia King She's Gone
AngeloA sharp beep echoes from the garage downstairs and jerks me out of sleep.For a second, I think it’s part of a dream. I lie still, blinking at the ceiling. But something feels off—too quiet, too empty.I don’t need to look to my side to know she’s gone.I feel it.The air is colder. The silence heavier.I sit up, scanning the room. The door is open. Lights off. Nothing.Then I notice it—my gun, keys, and wallet are missing.“Fuck,” I growl, bolting out of bed. I yank on my pants and shove my arms through my shirt like I’m racing death itself. My chest tightens, adrenaline slamming through my veins like a freight train.She took my car, my weapon, and my goddamn trust.“You can’t do this to me, Tatiana,” I mutter, storming into the hallway. My voice is hoarse, laced with anger and something far worse—fear.“She’s gone!” I shout down the corridor, pounding on Dice’s door without waiting. “Get the fuck up—we’ve got a problem.”Dice swings the door open already halfway dressed, eye
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*Tatiana*Angelo and I ended up in bed after our talk on the porch. Not because we reached an understanding—we didn’t. We’re still standing on opposite sides of a line neither of us is willing to cross. But I knew pushing him harder would only cause more damage.So, I hold my tongue.For now, keeping the peace meant swallowing my pride, locking my thoughts away, and playing the role of someone willing to wait.It’s after midnight. Rain pounds against the windows like a warning—fierce, unrelenting. Angelo lies asleep beside me, peaceful, unaware of the storm brewing right here in this bed.I watch him for a long moment, memorizing the shape of him, the warmth of him, just in case this is the last time.Sleep won’t come, so I reach for the tablet on my nightstand. I browse for a while—news, maps, dead ends. Then, on impulse, I check my old email. I haven’t opened it since I left Russia. I expect spam, junk, maybe nothing at all.What I don’t expect is a message from Lev.Dated the night
