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I go slow and steady, the path right behind me. “Remember how you used to take me for my ballet classes as a kid and get me ice cream after? Come on, George... you’ve done so much for me.”
I thought saying his name would help him remember the relationship we used to have, him as my protector while he worked for my dad.
However, it only infuriates him further.
“You think this is about me remembering what I used to do for you?” he says, stepping forward, closing the gap between us in a second.
“You grew up saying this, you know? Saying thanks to every other person you know, but to me? I was the one that fed you and picked you up from school,” he says, his hand rising quicker than I can react.
Before I can say I’m sorry, he uses his pistol and lashes me in the side, and I stumble backward, stung by pain.
“This is about loyalty. Feeling loyalty. Where was your loyalty when your father paid me peanuts? Did you stand up for me? Where were you when he red-listed me in New York? Did you fight for me then?”
He’s now kicking me in the stomach repeatedly. It takes every ounce of courage in me to stand there and take it.
I want to fall to the ground and crumble, but then I can’t walk into the line of sight of any passers-by.
Finally, he stops and begins to take deep breaths.
My heart is racing through my chest.
A few moments later, he says, “Last chance, Rosalie. Drucci or your father.”
“Not Drucci,” I say. “But look,” I try to convince him to buy myself more time. “I won’t cause no trouble. Take me to my father alive, please. He might pay you more for it.”
“Nah,” he says. “The money on your current hit is good enough. Let’s not get greedy now, shall we?” and with a curl in his lip, he pulls up the gun again.
“My innocent blood will be on your hands, Redneck,” I shout, the life draining from my body as the gun presses against the soft skin of my temple.
I close my eyes and try to picture myself walking away from this.
I picture the future I want and try to remember the night my mother helped me escape New York, offering me a chance at a free future.
I remember all the dreams I held on to as I made my way to Illinois.
I’m creating a life while death lingers near me, and I know that in a few moments, the two loads of the gun that will hit my brain from the chambers of the revolver will end all my dreams, the ones from the past and the future.
I feel anger, sadness, and pain.
Anger for apparently, the mafia code dictates that there is more honor in dying at the hands of betraying your father than living as a free woman.
Sadness for all yet to come and pain for not knowing what it could have been like with Felix.
Felix. His face comes to mind just as I hear Redneck draw the gun. Why am I thinking of Felix?
Just then, the loud twang of the gun goes off, and the fear of incoming pain washes all over me.
Everything happens so fast.
Chapter 7
FELIX
Iwalkthroughtheforest to clear my head. It’s been a busy and tiring night.
When I became Don, I had promised one thing - change.
We would be doing things around here differently, and when I heard through the grapevine that my men picked up a small laundromat owner for not paying back the ten grand he borrowed from us and planned on taking
