VIII

𝐈 don't even try and hide the hatred I feel for the Mexican's.

These motherfuckers have been on my radar for years. Putting an end to their lives is my main objective right now.

They really think they can mess with me and my family?! Just because they are entitled to come to the ball doesn't mean they actually should.

The screams and panic in the ballroom finally die down. I reload my AK-47 one last time and spray bullets at the final offenders, waiting a few moments in between shots for Lana to make a snarky comment about me. But she doesn't. I have a brief look around but she is nowhere to be seen.

I shrug it off before instantly having a repressing bad thought. I make sure to scan every corner of the room before approaching her mother and sister. "Have you seen Lana?" I ask, sliding my gun onto the table.

"Yeah shes right th-"

Francesca turns around to see nobody stood behind her. She looks around in confusion for a few seconds and then turns back to me.

"She must of snuck off somewhere." Her mother assumes, trying to convince herself more than us. "Yeah, maybe." I reply, uncertainly. I ignore the feeling in my stomach and make my way back over to my family. My sister is on an extremely heated phone call and I position myself besides her, in front of my men.

"How did we let this fucking happen?! The security is meant to be SECURE!" I yell to the line of men. They nod at every word I say, stuck in their places. "We have people looking into it now." One calls out from the middle of the line. "And when will we hear back?" I question, staring into a pair of tremulous green eyes. "I'm not sur-"

"Well go and fucking find out for me." I order, grabbing the man by the shoulder and giving him a slight shove. He nods his head to an excessive degree and disappears into the crowd of rattled people. I release a harsh breath and look down at the floor, blemished with splotches of sanguine fluid.

One by one, people begin to clear out of the ballroom, attempting to step over the many bodies discarded on the floor.

I decide to head out shortly after my sister, following a good distance after her to the back door. As I am approaching the door, I look down and notice a trail of blood leading down the hallway. It wasn't that extensive but certainly stood out from the white decor. I scan down the trail with my eyes and catch sight of a phone lying flat at the end of it.

I terminate my steps when I reach the end of the trail and pick up the phone. In my hand, it automatically switches on and the wallpaper instantly catches my eye, showing a familiar face. The wallpaper shows a picture of Lana, and I assume, one of her friends. In confusion, I slide the phone into my pocket and head back into the ballroom to inform her family on what I have discovered.

"And you're sure it's hers?" Francesca asks.

I don't argue with her, instead I retrieve the phone from my pocket and hold it out. The same expression crosses each of their faces as they see Lana in the wallpaper.

"Believe me now?" I ask.

They nod and both hurry off to make some phone calls. I do the same and call my team, once again.

***

*One month later*

A whole month later and still nothing. One fucking month. No sign of Lana. Not even a trace. Most people believe she ran away again, but I don't. Why would she? She just got back. And besides, that wouldn't explain why her phone was at the end of a trail of blood.

The DNA test confirmed it. It was Lana's blood. And there are still people out there telling me that I am absurd and irrational. Absurd for not believing the fucking bullshit some people believe.

I hate to say it but I miss her little attitude. She challenged me and I liked it.

I punch the punching bag in front of me over and over until my sister walks in. "Marco." She calls out. "What do you want, Amelia?" I ask, wiping the sweat from my forehead.

"Are you okay?" She asks, leaning against the doorframe. I look away from her and continue to punch the punching bag in front of me. "I'm fine, you can go now." I return, shooing her with my right hand. I hear her mutter the word "bitch." before wandering out of the room.

I pick up my phone to see 3 missed calls from my only real friend, Blake. He usually calls to invite me out to drink with his other friends and I almost always decline but today feels different. I have been so distant with everyone lately and refuse to be like this forever.

Milana POV: I don't feel much anymore. My arms and legs are partially covered in bruises and cuts. I have noticeably lost weight due to the face I am fed a very minimal amount of food. I am also kept in a confined box for most of the day and am only let out to 'talk', which I refuse. I may not be the bestest of friends with Marco but I wouldn't betray his family.

I put up a fight for as long as I could but they threatened my family, hitting me where it hurts the most. I will get my revenge on them. Nobody threatens my own kind.

How the fuck did I let this happen?

I face the side wall of the box and add a checkmark to the tally on it using a sharp nail. Day 31. Day thirty fucking one. It wouldn't surprise me if nobody was looking for me. Five years of absence doesn't leave much to miss.

The only things I have to keep me company are my thoughts. They are mostly irrational but keep me from going totally insane. I find myself wondering about what my family are doing and if they have given up on me. They know I can handle myself but this time it's a very tough situation. These people caught me off guard and I wont let it happen again.

"You gonna talk today?" The guard asks. I shake my head as he punches me in the stomach in wrath. I barely even pay attention pain anymore, I just wish they would kill me already.

"If you think I am ever going to tell you or anyone else here anything, then you are incredibly stupid." I spit, watching as his nostrils flare. "Oh trust me, princess, you will one day." He replies. I shudder in disgust upon hearing the word princess.

I have been closely observing everyone here in the last few weeks. There are five guards rotating shifts. 3pm is the time I am let out of my box. I know this for certain as I managed to sneak a watch from one of the guards on day 13.

When I am let out of the box, there are two guards on shift. One outside the door and one patrolling somewhere else in the building. That particular place is unknown to me but I know it's nearby. At 6pm three more guards show up and guard for the rest of the night. This means I have a three hour time slot to somehow distract or kill the guards and escape by stealing their car keys.

My plan is to wait for my box to be opened and use the element of surprise to beat the guard. There is only one problem, I am certifiably weak. I may not have enough strength but it is my only hope. After the guard is down, I will attempt to steal his car keys, which I know he keeps in his right pocket, and exit through one of the doors. Either I will pull this plan off perfectly and get out or I will do something to fuck it up and get myself killed.

They wouldn't kill me though - they can't. Not until they get the information they want.

The time gets to 3pm and the door is opened. I hear footsteps as the guard approaches me. As soon as the box is unlocked, I kick the guard in the groin. As weak as I am, I use every ounce of strength I have to knock him to the ground. Once he is down, I freeze in place and think for a moment.

Fuck yes.

Today is my lucky day I guess, I notice today the guard has a gun. This has never happened before as his fists were usually enough to keep me down.

I will admit, I couldn't walk as well as I hoped. My steps were wobbly and I had a slight limp in my right leg. I snatch the gun from him and shoot him in the head without thinking twice about it. The loud gunshot makes me flinch and I hope that it didn't alert the guard outside.

Once dead, I rummage in the guards pocket before finding something metal. I pull out his keys and detain them tightly in my hand. I give myself a minute to catch my breath before opening the door cautiously and sneaking out.

Once I have slipped out of the room, I notice the other guards back turned to me. He seems to be occupied with his phone. I take soft, slow footsteps towards the door but the gun slips from my grasp and strikes the ground beneath me. The guard springs into reality and rotates towards me. He holds his gun up and fires an array bullets at me. I quickly find the emergency exit and burst out into the sunshine.

Where the hell am I?!

It looks like somewhere downtown, and I run towards the main road before noticing two parked cars. I sprint to the cars as fast as I can, ignoring the limp in my leg, watching as bullets ricochet off of the ground beneath me.

I quickly try the handle on the SUV parked outside and am relieved to see it has been left open. I get into the car, gritting my teeth against the pain and squeezing my eyes shut as black spots dance in my vision. I can't pass out. I wont.

I fumble about with the keys and swiftly start the engine. I drive off without turning back, accelerating swiftly. A few minutes into the journey, I look down and see blood. Everywhere.

A large trail of red liquid continuously escapes from my skin and travels town my shirt, forming a puddle in between my legs. I examine my body to check for where the blood source is coming from and notice a bullet sized wound on my lower stomach. Although from first looks it didn't look as serious as other gunshot wounds, a dangerous amount of blood was escaping my body.

Fortunately for me, the bullet did not fully penetrate my skin, just grazed it.

Luckily living in a Mafia, you typically deal with one or two gunshot wounds in your lifetime. I tear off some material from my shirt and use it to apply pressure to my wound. I speed up the car, going over the limit by plenty. I have no clue where I am driving to but I do know that I cannot go to a hospital. Doctors ask questions and news spreads faster than wildfire in this city.

I think for a moment about going home but what good would that do? The only place I know that actually has a fully equipped medical room is the Cortez family mansion. They have treated my father before and could treat me without all of the added questions that comes along with it, but it feels unfair going to them.

I accelerate even more and finally familiarise with my surroundings. I turn a few corners and drive a few more miles before coming to a sharp stop outside the mansion. I limp up the driveway before being approached by the guards.

Every footstep is agony, and it takes a thousand years, but I finally come face-to-face with them. They recognise my abominable wound and open the door for me immediately. I limp inside of the building, blood dripping onto the marble floor, and spot a reserved maid stood before me with a gaping mouth.

"Can you g-get Marco please?" I voice weakly.

I hate how pathetic I sound. How weak and desperate I am in this moment.

With every word I speak, my voice trembles more and more. The maid quickly hurries upstairs and returns with a bothered Marco. When he spots me he freezes. He extends his arm out and touches my face, his fingers gently skimming my bruises. His attention then fixates to the blood cascading from my punctured flesh.

"What the hell happened to you?." Marco yells. He hastens up to me and grabs me, pushing down on my wound with such force, I swear I can see stars.

"Marco, I don't feel so-"

I don't even get to finish my sentence before black specks fully overtake my vision and then everything completely fades.

------------------------------------------------------- MARCO IS SO FUCKING HOT I WANT HIM!!! 😩

But does he want to help her as much as he hates her?? Hmm idkk...

Thank you for reading!!