I wasn't greeted with a limo, or even a nice sports car. No, there was a beat up old pick up truck of some sort waiting for me at the end of the driveway when I got there.

I was smushed between Mr. Meatball and Mr. Spaghetti Noodle. These guys were polar opposites of each other, and still neither were even remotely attractive.

"Who do you work for?" I asked for the millionth time, still struggling against the zip ties around my wrists.

"Well, you can kind of assume its no one who likes you," Mr. Spaghetti Noodle said, "So we don't work for that D'Amico Devil in other words. God, he's mean. Meaner than the meanest King of Mean."

That's what I've heard from a few different people now, Luca being one of them. I've never seen a terribly mean side of Angelo though and he certainly wasn't the D'Amico Devil in my book. "So you must work for Italia then, because the only other people after me right now is the Russian mafia...supposedly and you guys definitely aren't Russian."

"I don't get why they call her a criceto," Mr. Meatball said to Mr. Spaghetti Noodle. "She seems more like an evil lupo to me."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"Wolf."

I don't know, shoot me if I'm crazy, but I think I liked Criceto better even if the reasoning behind it was a lot less glorifying.

Sudden realization hit me like the hardest brick wall on the planet. "Where is this so called D'Amico devil?" I crossed my arms and tapped my foot impatiently. As far as I'm concerned, this was an easily avoidable situation had Luca and Angelo stayed and watched over me. "He was supposed to be right outside."

Mr. Meatball's signature smirk came back and I all but shuddered in disgust, "Oh. Him and that crazy Luca ditched you, didn't you know that princess? They left and they're not coming back. Did you really think you could ever be something to someone so...heartless?"

"What do you know?!" I snapped, "You're nothing but a fat old meatball! And I don't know about you," I turned to Mr. Spaghetti Noodle, "But I don't like taking advice from food, especially food I'm not fond of."

Mr. Meatball's beefy elbow collided with my nose...

And blackness took over.

+

+

+

You know, I've been shot before, but for some weird reason that felt like a tiny scratch compared to the way my nose was feeling right now.

I tried to reach up and massage it gently with my fingers, but something was restricting me from doing so.

Opening my eyes seemed like one of the scariest things I could do right now, but I knew it had to be done. Slowly I cracked one open, followed by the other one jolting open in horror.

At least half a dozen people were looking at me through the barrels of their guns. One of these people seemed a little too familiar for my liking.

Italia.

The heels of her leather boots clanked under the cement floor of what I'm going to assume was a warehouse. I mean, it was pretty cliche, but if they liked it here, who was I to judge?

Ok, I've been here before, I concluded after looking around. This place was in New York though, not Los Angeles. Was I really out that long?! Maybe they drugged me after I passed out, so they wouldn't have to deal with me. It seemed plausible.

The loud clanking was doing nothing for my growing headache, but she's the mafia boss of this place so...I was going to stay silent. She stopped right in front of me, anger emanating off her. "It looks like our guest has finally woken up," she smiled, and let me tell you this: it was the most fake smile I've ever seen. "Did you sleep well, Chloe Jai?"

Ok, odd. Who uses a person's first and middle name if they're not your parent?

I guess Italia did.

How does she even know my middle name? Freaking stalker.

Still though, I wasn't sure if it was a question I was actually supposed to answer or one that was best answered with silence alone.

I felt like silence was the better option, but I can't even begin to count how many times I've been wrong today. It was all too much for one poor math student to handle.

"I heard you gave my men a hard time earlier," she did creepy stalker circles around me. "I don't like problems, Chloe and you're proving to be a very big problem. I should have had you killed the day I met you, but I didn't and do you know why?"

I rolled my eyes at her, earning myself two guns pointed even closer at my face now. This was all sounding like something straight out of a movie, "No, I don't know why."

"I don't like attitude, Chloe and you have a lot of it. How hasn't Angelo killed you yet? He has the worst tolerance level and you've already crossed mine."

I squinted my eyes. I don't know if Mr. Meatball and her were talking about the same Angelo I was thinking of because their descriptions weren't really matching the person I knew. "You know, that's a question I want to know the answer to as well. As we all know," I said dramatically, "I've given him a million different reasons to kill me and yet all he does..." I trailed off, debating my inner self if the next part to my sentence was really worth losing my life over. I figured it was, but it was a rash decision made through impatience, "Is kiss me."

At this, I saw her large eyes narrow into tiny slits and something that looked like a burning jealousy wash over her tan face.

I think I won that one.

Or not...

I got a back hand straight to my fragile face. She even made sure it was the hand with all of her expensive, big, pointy rings.

One really mean word came to mind, but I suppressed it just as another came up, "Shit!" I shrieked.

"How dare you insult me like that on my property...in front of my men," Italia sneered, but I honestly didn't care anymore.

Looking back at my seventeen years of life, I was lucky to have made it this far and dying now didn't seem like such a big deal anymore. As long as I went down screaming and kicking I was going to be just fine.

"I get it now," I mumbled, knowing I was about to start a fight I would probably lose.

"You get what?" She sneered, her prey-like pacing around me subsiding. "Surely there can't be that much thinking going on in that tiny brain of yours."

Her insult didn't hurt me that bad because I've probably heard that one a million times now, "I get why I'm here. You're-"

Before I could finish my sentence, a stampede of men came storming into the warehouse, small and big guns full blazing. My breathing didn't seem so heavy anymore as I recognized a couple of them. Luca, Dom, Francisco and a handful of other guys I've never even seen before all aimed their guns at Italia.

Where was Angelo?

Italia put her hands in the air sluggishly, almost acting as if this was something she's already done a million times today and the act was getting boring, tiring even, "Where's your under boss?" She asked, her plump red lips twitching up into a sinister smile.

The Mafia men looked away from her briefly to glance at the guy I knew as Tony. I remembered the one time I went exploring in the mafia house and accidentally ran into his evil self in the pool house. I don't remember who it was, but someone said he was the under boss. Why didn't Italia look convinced though?

It was then that I saw Angelo pushing through the heard of mafia men to stand in front of Italia, so close to me. He had a gun in his right hand that he held at his side as if it were just a harmless toy.

"There you are," Italia cheered.

Ok, now I was completely confused. Angelo, the under boss? But I thought he was the big boss. If he's not, than who the hell is?!

"I heard your daddy dearest was smuggled out of prison. How does it feel to get knocked down a position?" Italia mocked. "Do they know they've all been knocked down?" She stood on her tippy toes to glance over Angelo's shoulder at all the angry men with guns. She quickly shifted all of her attention on to me, Angelo's dark eyes following. "He definitely won't be happy to hear about this little...trouble maker. I'm surprised you haven't gotten rid of her yet."

Angelo's silence was really starting to ware on my patience. If he could just defend me already, that'd be great.

I'd like to go home.

"Have you gone mute?" Italia yelled while waving a hand in front of Angelo's totally blank face.

"Untie her," he finally spoke.

Italia crossed her arms over her chest, "And why the hell should I do that? Give me one good reason, Angelo. Wait, I'll make this easier on you. Just say please...and I'll consider untying this..." She glanced at me in disgust, "Thing."

Thing? I'm a thing now?

I watched Luca sneak around the horde of guys and come up behind me, quickly slicing through the zip ties with ease.

"What do you think you're doing?" Italia asked.

"Uh...leaving," Luca said as if the answer should have been obvious while tugging upwards on my shirt, causing me to stand up abruptly.

"No, you're not."

The horde of mafia men formed a circle around Italia's smaller group of guys. "Yes, we are," Luca pushed me forward, towards the exit as multiple shots rang through the warehouse.