5. Alessandro

Chapter five

Alessandro

"Adriana."

I call her name, hearing the noise in the background.

This might just be a trap to get my men and me killed. Adriana is not to be trusted, just like her father. I've learned trust is a risky game in this business. One wrong move and you're clipped.

I have no damn idea why she's trying to act like a fucking savior when all I wanted from her was to fuck her hard, both for my revenge and for my pleasure; and well… to ensure that she never forgets what a real man feels like.

This night keeps getting a lot more fucked up. The outburst of Father left me enraged. I hurt my hand punching the wall. Daniel is here with me in the warehouse, helping me to dress my wounds.

I've always tried to prove myself to my father but he is never pleased. Nothing I do ever pleases him.

I kill the light of my cigar on the ashtray and hastily stand to my feet.

Adriana has to be telling the truth. She's an innocent poppy who just wants to spite her father. And if her father's men are already on their way, we are fucking screwed. Not enough men are around to repel the attack.

Dammit .

"Daniel!"

I grunt, moving my wounded arm. Daniel had my knuckles wrapped with a bandage.

"Daniel!" I yell again as I walk to the door. It flies open before I reach for the knob.

"Is something wrong?" Daniel questions.

"We have to go now. Gustavo's men are already on their way here."

"What about the coke? We can't just leave."

"Adriana said they are coming with a fucking army. We need more men here."

Daniel raises his eyebrows, confused. "Adriana? The daughter of Manny Gustavo?"

"It doesn't fucking matter right now, Daniel."

I walk past him to the door, leaving my office. He is behind me.

"Why should we believe her?"

I unlock the armory and flick the light switch on. The room lights come on to reveal the armory guns arranged in the wooden gun cabinets.

"She was the one who told me about his shipment too. She isn't lying."

I'm holding myself back from lashing out angrily at him, hoping that I am doing the right thing in trusting Adriana now.

Today has been pretty fucked up for me and Daniel's questions don't make it any better.

"But she could be now."

"Just get the fucking men ready, Daniel, and stop fucking questioning me," I bark.

"Fine. I'll call for reinforcement while we hold them back before the others arrive."

He walks out of the armory, leaving me alone. I grab a machine gun from one of the cabinets and slide a pistol into the back pocket of my pants.

Beppe comes rushing into the room.

"Daniel told me," he says as he spots me by the cabinet.

"Get the men ready and let's fucking clip these disgraziati (wretches)."

I walk out of the room with my guns as a few other men enter to meet with Beppe. He hands them their guns.

I stroll back to my office, momentarily spotting Daniel talking to one of the men. It's a rough night.

Daniel could be right and this would be all for nothing. I'll have Adriana begging me to have a bullet in her head if this turns out to be a fucking trap.

It's a few minutes past midnight. I dial her number again. Her phone rings with no answer.

"Ale! They are here," Daniel yells from behind the door.

"Fuck," I whisper as I set my phone on the wooden table.

Gunshot sounds fly in the air almost immediately. Screams follow.

I hurriedly exit the office to meet Beppe, who is heading outside. He has two machine guns in his hands.

"You should stay here and let us handle the situation outside," Beppe says.

I nod, holding tightly to the gun. Beppe disappears from inside the warehouse to outside.

Slowly growing anxious as I pace the room, waiting for either Daniel or Beppe to walk back into the warehouse. I lose track of time as I end the wait, barging out the door of the warehouse.

I'm met by heavy fire, with dead and wounded men surrounding the warehouse. I recognize the men on the ground. My men.

Fuck!

We are getting overpowered as I spot Beppe and ten men on the other side, trying to hold off men larger in numbers.

Blood splatters in the air as a bullet winces through the air and meets the arm of the guard in front of me. He yells in pain but continues shooting randomly. Another bullet knocks him dead as it pierces through his head.

I drag the body with one arm as a shield to stop the bullets shot in my direction. I pull the trigger with the other. The bullet meets the shooter in the chest and sends him down in his own blood.

I let go of the body, taking cover beside a truck. Two dead men are in the trunk of the truck.

The thought of Gustavo's men overpowering us fucking pisses me off. It'll make me look weak. Where the fuck are the others?

I continue shooting at Gustavo's men, who will be invading the warehouse any moment now.

My men take the most hits, with their bodies littered on the ground and leaving the warehouse vulnerable.

I kill three of Gustavo's men, sending bullets through their fucking brains. My wounded arm still hurts.

I take out the pistol from my back pocket, using both arms now as the men draw closer.

Daniel runs in the midst of a fire exchange to meet me by the truck. His shirt is stained with blood. I glare at him, concerned, as he takes a shot at our enemies.

"Not mine," he grunts, pulling the trigger again.

"Where the fuck are the others?"

We take turns shooting in different directions, taking out Gustavo's men.

"I have no fucking idea."

A sharp gurgle escapes from the lips of one of Gustavo's men as I send a bullet through his mouth. His remaining flesh flutters in the air, with blood splattering profusely.

"We are losing men. We have to leave Ale," Daniel suggests. He makes a perfect target and shoots one in the head.

"What about Beppe?" I ask.

"Dead," he replies in a cold tone.

Dammit .

"Move; I'll cover for you," he adds.

Daniel begins to shoot using both hands, buying me enough time to run into the warehouse.

He tries to meet me in the warehouse and gets shot in the right arm midway. He grunts in pain, dropping the gun in his right hand.

"Daniel!" I yell as I race back out to help him up.

" Fanculo (Fuck)," he grunts as another bullet meets his left shoulder.

I kill the shooter with one bullet straight to his chest. "Daniel, fuck."

He groans as I hold him from dropping to the ground. I wrap his arm around my shoulder, taking shots with my other arm.

Daniel groans with blood gushing from his bullet wounds as I help him into the warehouse. His breath has gotten heavier, grunting as I set him on the ground.

"You're losing a lot of blood," I say, hearing the gunshots draw closer.

"Go Ale. I'll hold them off for as long as I can," Daniel breathes.

"Shut the fuck up." I take his wounded arm and tear off the material of his shirt.

"Arghh."

His shirt is soaked with blood. I wrap the torn piece around the bullet wound and repeat the process.

"I'm going to grab the car keys. Stay the fuck alive."

I run to my office and hurriedly grab the keys and phone on the wooden table. Daniel's eyes flutter as I return to see him sprawled on the ground.

"We'll take the back door," I lift him up and wrap his arm around my shoulder.

My shirt is stained with his blood.

The front door slams open as we reach the other exit.

"Come out, bastardo (bastard)!" a voice echoes.

Daniel is falling unconscious as I slip him into the back seat of my car. A bullet winces past me as I try to open the door to the driver's seat.

" Figlio di puttana (Son of a bitch)," I grunt. I bend as another bullet flies in my direction. I begin to shoot in the shooter's direction, hastily slipping into the car.

I start the engine quickly and zoom off as fast as I can.

A couple of bullets are fired as I drive. One pierces through the rear window, creating a hole in it.

I make a quick turn onto another street, terrified as I look back to see Daniel's eyes slowly shutting.

"Daniel." I look at the road, then back at him.

"Daniel! Fucking answer me!"

He doesn't respond. Hitting the steering wheel angrily with my palm, I curse under my breath.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, which pisses me off even more. Slipping it out of my pocket with one hand and the other still on the wheel, I see it's my mother.

"Alessandro," she says as I pick up the call. She sounds terrified.

" Madre , is something wrong?"

"Your father." I hear a stifled cry. "We are at the hospital. He had a heart attack," she adds.

"Why did you take him to the hospital? How about the house doctor?"

"He's out of town."

"Where are you? Daniel got shot."

" Mio Dio (My God)!" she exclaims sharply.

I turn to check on Daniel.

"He needs help, Mama. I don't want to lose him."

"We are at Harlem Hospital Center. Hurry, mio figlio (my child)," my mother says. Her Italian accent thickens, as it always does when she's stressed.

Cutting the call, I toss my phone to the other seat.

While hitting the gas, I look at Daniel through the rearview mirror.

"Don't fucking die on me, Daniel."

***

"Nurse!"

I walk into the hospital with Daniel, his arm around my shoulder. I never knew he was so damn heavy.

"I need a fucking nurse. Now!" I bark. A man dressed in scrubs runs to meet me at the entrance.

"Emergency," he calls out. Two other nurses spring into action, rolling a stretcher towards me. I set Daniel on the stretcher with the nurses' help.

"Don't let him fucking die," I say as they wheel him in.

"You have to wait outside here, sir," a female nurse says, stopping me from entering the ER with Daniel.

I grunt as I stop in my tracks, waiting outside the room.

"Alessandro," a voice calls from behind. It's my mother.

" Madre ," I turn to face her.

Her gray eyes are swollen from crying. She pulls me in a tight hug and I take in her familiar vanilla smell.

Her head rests on my chest because of our height difference.

"He's going to be fine, mio figlio (my child)," she whispers against my chest.

"How is Father?"

I swallow a gulp, remembering his earlier outburst. Knowing he is on the sick bed doesn't dissolve the anger I still feel towards him.

"Stable. The doctors here are good."

She lets go of me.

"They better be," I reply, turning to stare at the emergency room Daniel was wheeled into.

"Come sit, Ale," my mother says with my hand in hers.

Her brown hair is in a low, messy bun. There are little wrinkles on her face. Her high cheekbones are distinct on her oval-shaped face. I inherited my narrow nose and full lips from her. My eyes are just as gray as hers.

"Are you alright?" Mia madre (My mother) points to my bandaged wrist as she takes a seat in the waiting room.

"It's nothing." I shrug as I sit next to her.

"You look sad, mio figlio (my child)." Her fingers sit on my lap as she tilts her head up to stare at me.

"Your father told me what happened."

"I'm just a fucking mistake to him," I reply with clenched jaws.

"Words," she says sternly.

" Mi dispiace, Madre (I am sorry, Mother) . Father just always gets on my nerves. I don't know how long I would have to prove to him that I'm ready."

She squeezes my leg gently. "You know how he is, Alessandro. Just give him time."

I sigh with a slight nod. A nurse walks out of the ER, heading towards us.

"Is he alright?" I ask, standing to my feet.

"We've removed all the bullets. He's stable now but needs some rest."

"Can you have him transferred to my husband's room? I want to have my eyes on both of them," my mother says.

"I will need one of you to sign some papers," the nurse replies.

My mother stands to her feet, adjusting her black, plain dress. "I'll handle it."

"Give me a second, ma'am." The nurse disappears into the ER and comes out a minute later.

"Go check on your father. He is in room 18," my mother says before following the nurse.

I walk down the hallway in search of the room my father's in.

He is fast asleep as I stare through the transparent part of the door. His face is pale and his body, still.

"Excuse me, sir," a nurse says. I give way to him as he wheels Daniel into the room.

Daniel's chest is bare, with stitches over the bullet wounds.

I sigh with relief, knowing he is still alive. I couldn't bear the thought of him dying because of me.

I wait outside for a few hours for my mother to return. She had called earlier to say that she had a few errands to run before returning to the hospital.

Daniel's eyes are open when I finally peep through the glass section of the door to check on both of them.

He has his eyes fixed on Father's arm with an expression of disbelief on his face.

I turn to check what he keeps staring at. It's the arrowhead tattoo on Father's arm.

But why?