(Trigger Warning)

Arlan's Point Of View

Obsidian Wrath Mafia HeadQuarters,

"What the fuck do you mean they didn't take our offer?" My authoritative voice hissed as I paced in distress.

Dominic held a pained expression on his pursed lips seeing the magnitude of my rage. Uncomfortably adjusting in his seat, he passed forward a shot glass of scotch across the table, hoping the liquor would alleviate my lividness.

"They negotiated with another mafia, they didn't think our credentials enlisted were,"-

"Let me get this straight," I held up my hand to cut him off, squeezing my eyes shut and stopping in my tracks. "They didn't take our offer?"

"No, boss, they didn't."

I went pacing again as Dominic sighed.

"What went wrong, Demario? We had everything lined up perfectly. Our fake security contract would've offered the company benefits for ten years, mafias usually only offer five. And boom, that's money in our hands. Who made a seamless operation so fucking difficult!? Did you all do as I had specifically told?" I stopped and stared at Dominic.

With an exasperated sigh, Dominic took the scotch glass himself, downed the shot, and set it on the table with a thud.

"Yes, boss, we did everything we were told. I really think Silvercrest,"-

"A-and what credentials could we not have? We're wealthy, intelligent, well-renouned, lethal," The back of my right hand hit my left palm with every word I listed as I seethed. "Last year we had the most kills and the most money earned while still never being dismantled by any sort of police force."

"We did everything we could."

"No," I snarled curtly, eyes glinting with disapproval, "Clearly, you didn't do everything you could. Otherwise we'd be richer, not poorer, Demario," I sneered with belittlement. "And God damn it, enough! There is no Silvercrest. There's no way it was them."

"Arlan, let's be realistic here," Dominic begged with a sense of urgency at my pertinacious demeanor, leaning forward on his knees. "They've always been our number one competiter. Santiago,"-

"Santiago's dead!" My anger spiked, my voice a shrill scream as I looked Dominic straight in his eyes, making the hair on Dominic's body rise and his body chil. "How many times do I have to remind you of this? Is your skull that fucking thick? God, fuck, I killed him for a reason, so I didn't have to hear his stupid name ever again!"

"But, Arlan,"-

"No but's about it, DeMario- I killed the fucker."

Dominic gulped with discomfort at my bold eyes and explicity.

"I don't want to hear his name again or I'll fucking fire you and throw you onto the street," My tone was breathy, but lethal and dark. "Santiago's gone. Dead. I watched him drink three glasses of poision, his corpse is rotting right now."

"Y-you're right," Dominic nodded vigorously. "Even though we didn't check that he died,"-

"He died," I said with finality, Dominic's eyes meeting my sharp glare, my jaw twitching as I faltered to blink.

There was an undeniable fear in Dominic as he eyed me, a guiltless murderer. I could tell by his deer in the headlights eyes and him shifting uncomfortably in his seat. While Dominic had been in the mafia for five years, he did more of the research aspect than anything actually violent. It was hard to separate the value of human life and his role in the mafia. For me, it was not. Well now that he was my right hand man, he had to step it up.

"You're my right-hand man now. You're going to have to do some cruel, difficult things average people don't do. Can you handle that?"

As silence settled in the air, Dominic adjusted himself and sat upright, nervously palming his hands on his dress pants.

"Of course," Dominic whispered in agreement, nodding. "Yes," He said more confidently.

I yanked the open chair opposite Dominic backwards and slumped my body onto it, rubbing at my temples repeatedly, thinking. Denying Silvercrest has ulterior motives because I thought they'd just disappear completely was wishful thinking.

"So let's say hypothetically it is Silvercrest, sans their dead-fuck of a past-leader," I hissed sourly in a mutter. "They must have some new kind of leader and they're not done with us, his little mutts are just as vindictive as he was. We'll keep them on our radar."

With a deafening groan, I leaned back with my ring-covered hands over my face. Rubbing my face, I slowly leaned forward and set my elbows on the table, drumming my fingers together. Rolling my jaw, I licked my lips, speaking hesitantly.

"How much money did we lose," I reluctantly muttered, jade eyes peering up under the dark hood of my lashes.

Dominic gulped, looking away.

"Two million," He whispered.

"Two fucking million!?' I beseeched, tossing my briefcase, papers and the bottle of scotch on the table all to the ground as Dominic flinched, flying papers and breaking glass piercing his ears.

"Yes, two million," Dominic confirmed again, hyperventilating, gripping his chair as I stood and easily flipped my own chair to the ground. The legs of the chairs snapped from the force and collapsed, the chair breaking.

"Fucking CHRIST!" I slammed my fists down, the table shaking and trembling. "I don't know who this fucking new guy is. But whoever he is, we're taking him the fuck down. Mark my words. Blood will be shed, this time I'm not doing some pussy shit like poisoning.

Open up every file of all mafias in the tristate area. Actually, think trans global as well, nothing's off limits. That money's ours and we're getting it back, no matter what it takes. Load up every weapon you have. Any man who seems even the slightest bit suspicious will die, I don't care. Now go."

Dominic gulped.

"I said GO!" I repeated in rage.

Arlan's Estate

At four in the morning, I kicked my shoes off angrily and locked the door to my estate. I had stayed at Obsidian Wrath Headquarters all night working on this case. I needed a drink, maybe two. Maybe six.

I needed Aurora. I wanted to hold her. No, I wanted to choke her, fuck her, possess her.

Opening my alcohol cabinet, I retrieved a bottle of Scotch but rather than pour myself a shot, I took a chug straight from the bottle, seating myself at the counter. Aggressively, I twisted the gold rings on my hands back and forth, then looked down at my hands. Thousands of dollars were on my fingers. The expensive rings used to give me power, but now looking at it, I just felt like a phony. I was losing money, was I losing my touch?

Was I just a fraud, running from my pain, my trauma?

The cocky arrogance I had felt fake as my money was threatening to leave me. My only pride in myself was my successful role in his mafia. I should have been there on an important negotiation as the boss.

My vision felt glossy and blurred as I absentmindedly and continuously chugged from the bottle as my thoughts ran rampant, not keeping track of how much I drank. I ran my fingers through my curls until they were disheveled and my fingers were numb.

My lips felt numb, too, the alcohol burning in my chest and warming my body which only added physical rage to the emotional rage I felt. In my delirious state, I found a childhood, traumatic memory seeping its way into my brain...

Childhood flashback

"Mommy?" I ran down the stairs at six years old, excited to show her the paper airplane I made.

I had been pretending to fly it and throwing it across my room for an hour, calling her name to come see it. Yet, she did not come, so now I was looking for her.

"Mommy?" I repeated, looking all around the damp and dimly lit kitchen.

My breath caught in my throat when I looked up and met the eyes of my father. His beer belly hung over his jeans in his stained wife beater and his unkempt, overgrown beard and red eyes reminded me of a homeless man. I clutched my paper airplane as my father raised me by the collar of my ripped shirt, carrying me in the air.

"Quiet, A-boy, dammit!" He hissed.

"Mah,"- I cried, before squealing as I was dropped into the storage closet.

As I scrambled up, the door was shut. Encased in darkness, I whined and looked all around. I palmed the floor, looking for my airplane, but stopped when I heard light arguing, crawling and pressing my ear to the door. I couldn't hear much, but flinched and whimpered when I heard my father clearly:

"So you expect me to get a job, huh? How bout you get better at fucking, Theresa, huh? How bout that."

"James, p-please, I-I just can't afford rent much longer. My parents won't support me. I-it doesn't have to be a big job, you could work at McDonalds?"

"Fast food?" My father roared, setting his bottle of Whiskey down on the table, slowly clapping his hands. "Oh, that's just great. That's great. That's what,-Is that what you've reduced me to, a fast food boy? How charming."

"N-no, James,"-

"How fucking charming," He cut her off.

"I just meant, I could use a little help. I've been cutting it close with rent every month. I need help."

"You know what you need? You need your fucking ass kicked."

I whimpered and immediately banged my fist on the door, to which I was ignored.

"N-no, please, relax James," His mother pleaded. I heard the bottle being lifted. "Let's have a drink, it'll be okay. I'll just drink with you, forget I asked you to get a job, please."

"No, drinking's not how I plan on taking out my anger today, sweetheart."

I incessantly pounded both my fists against the door, screaming for my mother. Suddenly, the door was opened and the light flooded in. I gasped in relief, only to be filled with dread when the domineering eyes of my father met mine. My sweet mother was in the background, a horrified expression on her face. With that, I was lifted again.

Present

Twenty four years old and absolutely-hammered me had not even realized that tears streaked down my face until I brought myself out of my memories. I bit my lip hard as I recalled how my mother didn't do anything to stop my beating, just stood there. I always sympathized with her, but in my belligerent state, bitterness like a hot, raging wildfire coursed through my veins. I couldn't believe I treasured a woman like her. It was these drunken moments I resented her, hated her.

I hate her.

'I'm sorry you never got the parents you deserved' I remember Jake telling me when I was just eight, entering the mafia.

I shoved the empty bottle to the floor.

"FUCK YOU!" I seethed, spit flying out from my teeth as the glass shattered.

Who was I talking about? My mother, my father, Jake for leaving me?

I bolted up the stairs and threw open the door to my room. Once I found my mother's perfume in my grasp, I threw my arm back and hurled it to the floor, the glass shattering. I immediately sat on the foot of my bed and dumped my head in my hands, sobbing.

Moments later, Elise quietly entered and silently set a new perfume on the nightstand and slipped out quietly. She did this when moments like this happened, which were not so often but often enough that she kept an extra supply because I always wound up forgiving my mother and wanting her perfume near again. I heard the door close.

Shaking my leg, my fingers uncovered my eyes as they held my face, covered in streams of tears. Turning to see the empty bed, I missed Aurora there, her sweet presence.

But I don't want to be like my father. I wanted to be nothing like him. I didn't want the woman I love to fear me. I didn't want her going through what my mother did, feeling so powerless.

Maybe all of this was a sign.

Maybe I should let her go.

At Beck And Hadley's house

"Morning chickies," Beck cheerfully greeted at 9:30 in the morning, clad in soft flannel pajamas in their kitchen. "Who's ready for the bonfireee tonight? Woo woo!!' He cheered his hands up.

"Please don't ever refer to me as a bird," Hadley retorted, monotone, not a morning person. She poured syrup on her French toast and Aurora nibbled on hers and giggled.

"I'm excited. I've never been to a bonfire before," Aurora admitted.

"How tall are you, 5'2?" Hadley asked, cocking her head.

"Uh, 5'0..." Aurora clarified, unsure why her friend wanted to know.

Hadley snorted.

"I say three beers and she taps out, what about you, Beckingham Palace?" She twisted to face her brother pouring coffee.

"Psh, two and she'll be on her ass,"-

"I-I told you, I'm not drinking," Aurora shook her head, interrupting the twins. "I had a bad experience on my birthday..."

Hadley's face softened, and that exact expression brought Aurora back to the conversation they had the previous night in her bedroom....

The previous night

Hadley suddenly paused the movie on her laptop, Aurora looked up.

"Why'd you pause? I wanna know if Amanda Bynes is gonna reveal her identity," Aurora wiggled her eyebrows playfully.

She had been having the time of her life painting her nails and watching movies at her first ever sleepover.

Hadley bit her lip softly, a cautious, concerned, soft look on her face. She had wanted to ask this question all night but kept feeling too afraid. She was finally just going to come out with it, but gently, so as not to scare Aurora.

"Aurora...are you really happy with your boyfriend? I just feel like something's wrong, and I really care about you, you know. I-I'm sorry if this is stepping over a boundary, but I just have to ask. You can tell me. They showed us all these dating abuse videos in high school and it just seems like this is... one of those situations. If you're stuck, I can help you."

The statement caught Aurora off guard. In that moment, her heart ached to gush the entire truth to her best friend, whom she felt comfortable and safe around. But it was also impossible to ignore the invisble feeling of Arlan's hands around her neck, his ring-covered fingers muffling her mouth. He wasn't actually there, but his long-lived threats disabled her from speaking as if he was there, covering her mouth, choking her.

'If I'm honest, I could go to jail.' She thought. 'That's what Arlan said, so it must be true. He's older than me, he knows the law more. I won't ever be able to go to college again, I might never see Beck and Hadley again. I don't want to live a life without them. They're the first friends I've ever had, they're incredible, and I don't want them ripped away. And who knows what my life would even be? Where would I live, would I be homeless?!' Aurora wondered.

Aurora was growing increasingly worried.

Without thinking, she took a sticky note from Hadley's desk, wrote on it and gave it to her.

Hadley read: "I...M?"

"I'm happy. I promise. Really. B-but thank you for caring. I've never had someone care about me like that," Aurora forced a wobbling smile on her lips.

Hadley still looked concerned.

"Doesn't Arlan care about you like that?"

Aurora's face fell and she knew the truth was that he didn't. Even if he tried to convince himself he cared about her, his behaviors said otherwise.

She quickly faked a laugh.

"Of course, I-I just meant a friend, you know."

"Yeah," Hadley gave a 'sincere' smile. "Uh, sorry, again, but I just had to ask...If something ever happens, know that you can trust me. But I believe you, I trust you."

The Present

"You're totally right, my bad. You don't have to drink, and I'm sorry for pushing it or making you uncomfortable," Hadley symapthized with her friend, biting her lip.

She was still unconvinced that Aurora was in a safe situation with Arlan, but let it go for the time being.

"It's okay...I get it," Aurora smiled gently. "We're young, you want me to have fun. I just think I need some time. Maybe next weekend or something we can drink."

"Sure! And, if anything, you'll be entertained tonight with how much of a lightweight Beck is. I've never seen a 6'3 man get so easily hammered," She snorted.

"Aye, shut it," Beck interjected, turning around with his Star Wars mug. "Am not," He pouted, puffing his chest.

"Oh sure, I guess we'll just have to see," Hadley pretended to agree, raising her eyebrows as she cut another piece of her French toast.

Beck turned to finish cooking his omelette and Hadley leaned in to her friend.

"Total lightweight," She whispered, and the girls giggled.

"It'll be fun either way," Beck said, turning to the girls. "Alcohol or not, you, Miss Mulven, owe me a dance." He winked her way.

Beck's wink alone warmed Aurora's body like five shots of liquor. She didn't need alcohol when in his presence. All she needed was him. And she was damn excited to dance with him tonight.

👀