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“Uncle, I’m fine.”
“People who are fine don’t up and leave without an explanation, Rosalie.” I sighed hearing my Uncle Anthony use my full name, he had refused to call me anything else. Anthony and my cousins had tried so hard to bring me into their family and make me feel welcome.
Sometimes it was comforting. Since I could remember I’d always prayed for a big family and here I was thrown into one of the largest and most powerful Italian families within the United States.
But it was different.
It wasn’t what I’d imagined.
“I’m just—”
“Rosalie. Wearefamily. We work out our problems together.” The tone of his voice was almost scolding.
I hung my head, I knew if I didn’t turn around and head home that he would send someone out looking for me.
“Okay…” I sighed, “…I’ll head home now.”
I stared up at the sky. You could barely see it between the buildings that stretched high into the clouds. It was beginning to get dark and the once white clouds were now shaded with dark gray and threatening to storm down on me.
People bustled down the sidewalk on their way home from work or just trying to escape before they got soaked. I followed suit and dived into the stairwell that led to the subway.
I’d gotten pretty good at navigating the city over the last couple months. I’d only had to call my cousin Rico to come rescue me three or four times. He thought it was hilarious every single time. I’d learned quickly that he was the best one to call. My other cousin Celia was no help at all. She didn’t leave the house unless it was for school or a shopping spree. She was spoilt and everyone knew it, including her.
Giovanni, the eldest of them all, I hadn’t spoken to since he shot Blizzard.
He tried once, but I couldn’t handle it. Every time I looked at him all I could see was Blizzard’s blood spilling onto the broken concrete.
Gio was a soldier in his father’s mafia army. He saw through feelings and emotions and had been taught to only do what needed to be done to protect his family and their business. He was close to being completely emotionless, and even though we weren’t close, my heart hurt to think about the person he was becoming.
I pushed my way through the busy underground.
A girl with long blonde hair playing her guitar sat on the ground against a concrete wall. She was beautiful and young, possibly still a teenager but her music was entrancing. I watched her for a few minutes. Just as I was about to walk over and throw some change into the guitar case she had sitting at her feet, a couple of thugs with their pants hanging low approached her. I frowned as they stood over her, taunting her as they started grabbing at the small amount of money she had collected.
She scrambled to her feet and pushed at them, yelling for them to get lost. One of the boys pushed her back against the solid wall and the air left her lungs.
“Hey!” I yelled, my feet carrying me to them before I even knew what I was doing. I raised my foot and kicked the boy who was crouched at her guitar case. He fell to the side and coins scattered over the ground. “Leave her alone.” My voice didn’t shake, the adrenaline in my veins holding it steady.
I thought someone else might stop to help but people just moved past the altercation, looking the other way as though they just didn’t want to know.
I felt anger building inside me. I knew what it was like to have no one stand up for me. People looked on, but never made an attempt to help. They were selfish. They always just assumed someone else would do it. Leave it for someone else to deal with.
“Fuck off, bitch.” Suddenly the second boy was in my face sneering down at me.
“Leave her alone,” I answered him, holding my shoulders back and refusing to be intimidated.
“Look at you, little white girl trying to be a hero.” He grinned, a chipped and broken tooth staring back at me.
I felt it building inside of me. I was sick—sick and fucking tired—of people looking down on me, assuming that I couldn’t protect myself. I was tired of people looking at me and assuming that they could take advantage.
I wouldn’t let someone take advantage of me again. I wasn’t going to let myself be walked over and destroyed.
My father had crushed me, and I had taken it thinking that it was what I deserved, that I had to fight for his love. But you know what, I didn’t have to fight because I knew now that I deserved more than that.
I swung my fist, knowing that I was going to catch the little punk off guard but before it could connect with his jaw a thick hand was wrapped around my wrist, holding it in place.
The thieving little assholes stumbled back from the confrontation with glaring eyes but they didn't back down. I knew exactly who was standing beside me without even having to turn my head. My uncle was well known within the city, especially with the local gangs. Obviously these kids hadn’t seen New York’s list of‘people who not to fuck with.’
“Problem, Rosalie?” Angelo’s voice sent shivers down my spine.
