~The Fox~
Yeah, someone's dead alright, but it sure as hell ain't me.
It's Luciano.
'Well, looks like I just killed my boyfriend.'
The two-timing bastard couldn't even aim right. He shot the roof above my head. For someone who used to kiss my forehead, you'd think he'd remember I'm only 5'7 and not a damn giraffe.
"I still can't believe I started to like you," I whisper to him, even though he's dead, tilting my head just slightly to get a good look at his chiselled face one last time.
Seconds pass and I let out an exasperated sigh as I back away from the bed.
I need to get out of here. Fast.
But not before I grab a few things I'll need.
I search the room for anything to survive the next few days—or, if the universe is feeling generous, weeks.
Thankfully, I find a pair of diamond-encrusted brass knuckles, an 18-karat gold chain and twenty thousand euros.
'Perfect. With all these, my bills for the next six months are completely covered.'
After I stuff my treasures in my pockets, I make a beeline for the door without a second glance.
A few of Luciano's friends or clients might show up soon if they've been trying to reach him and haven't heard back.
Luckily, there aren't any cameras in the house or around the block, so nothing is tying me to this mess.
But just to be safe, I already grabbed a hoodie from Luciano's wardrobe.
As I step out of the house, I keep my head down and tug the hoodie over my face, making sure most of my features are hidden.
I try to walk at a normal pace, so I don't draw attention or pick up a tail.
Now that Luciano's dead, I need to continue my search for that monster somewhere else.
'Two and a half years,' I sigh inwardly.
It's been over two years since I stumbled upon the information that made me come to Italy.
But ever since I arrived, it's like he just… disappeared. Like he doesn't even exist.
But deep down… I know he's here. Hiding like the coward he is. Living like a ghost in the dark and criminal underworld of Italy.
Even with his whereabouts, I'd still need someone powerful enough to stand behind me. And unfortunately, that kind of power? It only exists in one place.
One of the Big Three.
The most feared mafia families in the entire country.
A mere whisper of their name can freeze a room, so most people refer to them using their nicknames.
Their reach? Endless.
Their loyalty?... Well, let's just say that's the last line any sane human being would want to cross.
It's almost impossible to get into their dangerous world—unless you're born into it, marry into it, or have a strong connection with someone who's already in there.
And even with that? Don't bother glancing at their door, let alone knocking if your last name doesn't trace back to some lower-tier crime family.
Connections alone won't save you. To them, bloodlines are everything, and they don't deal with outsiders.
Especially not ones like me.
But, I did come dangerously close to getting tangled up in their world once. I barely had a glimpse of the surface but I was just incredibly lucky to make it out with all my limbs intact.
Especially after what I did…
As I turn the corner into an alleyway, I quickly pull out the cold metal wedged against my stomach. It was half-tucked into my jeans and half-hidden under my hoodie for easy access.
And given the circumstances, I'm glad I kept it there.
Because I've got an unwanted tail tagging along.
I saw him with the help of a car's side mirror a few blocks before I reached the alley.
He's probably an inch taller than me and looks like he can put up a fight with his size, but I'll be damned if I let this rat-faced son of a bitch walk out of here alive after trying to rob me of my hard-earned loot.
The alley's deserted, but the few open windows tell me people are home and they're probably watching, too.
Not like it matters.
Because no one's going to come out.
No one's going to call the cops. And no one is going to care.
Here in Naples, everyone's used to hearing the sound of bullets tearing through the air like it's just another Friday.
So, taking out my tail here is not a problem.
I take a few more steps into the alley and turn swiftly so I can take the guy by surprise.
My pistol is already raised, my trigger finger is still in position, and I'm more than ready to create a clean hole through his head.
But, there's no one there.
I stay like that for a second longer before lowering my gun. Guess I was just being paranoid.
My shoulders sag as the tension from earlier lifts off my body. I turn back, about to tuck my weapon away when a pair of eyes lock onto mine.
Standing a few feet away from me is my tail. And he's pointing a revolver straight to my head.
'Bastard,' I scoff.
"Drop the gun," he says, his voice flat. "Don't try to do anything stupid."
My fingers are still tightly wrapped around the steel in my hand and I can feel my heartbeat slowly start to pick up as I keep my gaze steady on him.
'I can take him,' I tell myself. 'I can totally take him. I just need to be smart about this.'
"I said drop the gun, dammit!" He barks, and I slowly raise my left hand in mock surrender. I'm hoping it'll make him calm down a bit so I can use a few seconds to think of a plan.
Just as I start to raise my gun—
A hand clamps over my nose and mouth with a handkerchief, yanking me back with a strength secondary to steel.
My eyeballs nearly bulge out of their sockets as I jerk back, trying to twist myself free, but the grip is firm—like iron.
Then, a strange and sickly sweet smell fills my nostrils. It's sharp… chemical. Like some kind of rotting disinfectant.
It stings the back of my throat and I try to gasp for anything other than this sickening smell. But that's my first mistake.
Suddenly, it feels like my brain is shutting down.
The world starts to tilt and my arms feel heavier. I can hear my pulse roaring in my ears as my heart continues to pound against my ribcage.
What the hell is this?
I try to scream, to swing my elbow back at my assaulter, but it feels like my muscles aren't moving a fucking inch.
My legs feel like jelly and I start to lose my balance like I've forgotten how to stand. But my attacker prevents me from falling to the ground as they catch me in their arms.
Suddenly, something clicks.
Chloroform.
Of course.
My gun slips from my fingers.
No. No, no, no…
I try to hold on. I have to hold on.
But my body gives up before my mind does.
'Ah… shit.'
Everything is muffled now. Like I'm drowning underwater.
And as soon as my eyelids flutter shut, I know I'm completely fucked.