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LOW LIFE

♧

FUTURE FT. THE WEEKEND

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I AWOKE to the sharp sting of pain in my chest.

Albert loomed over me, dabbing at my wound with a cotton swab soaked in what I could only assume was pure agony.

"Stay down, Master Antonio. I'm not quite finished yet."

I gritted my teeth, trying not to flinch. "Fuck, Albert, what is that?"

"Alcohol. For your wound," he replied matter-of-factly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"She shot me, didn't she?" I groaned, attempting to sit up despite the throbbing pain. "The little shit."

Albert dabbed the swab with a bit more force than necessary, earning a wince from me. "I must admit, her reaction time in finding that gun was rather impressive."

"She's fucking insane."

"One might argue that insanity is a shared family trait."

"I don't go around shooting people in their kitchens," I muttered, reaching for the grey tin hidden in the cupboard above me. My fingers found what I was looking for—a box of cigarettes.

Albert raised a single, disapproving eyebrow. "I may have patched up your chest, sir, but if you insist on destroying your lungs, I'm afraid even I cannot revive those."

I stuck a cigarette between my knuckles in a gesture to flip him off.

"Always a man of great maturity, sir." Albert packed the first aid kit. I flipped open a lighter using it for the cigarette. I took a long drag from it, feeling the burn at the back of my throat. That was my fiancée?

Jesus.

A sharp knock echoed through the room. Albert hurried to the door, his footsteps deliberate.

"Master Emilio. Master Alessandro," he greeted with a small bow.

Oh, you had to be fucking kidding me.

"Albert," my brothers said in unison as they stepped inside, all smug grins and bad timing.

"Ayy, Toni," Emilio drawled, his voice grating on my last nerve.

"We heard about the engagement," Alessandro added, pulling out a bottle of D'usse like it was a peace offering. "Thought we'd stop by to congratulate you. See how you're holding up."

Both of them froze the moment their eyes landed on me, slouched on the couch with a fresh bandage plastered over my chest.

"Clearly, it's going well," Emilio smirked, tilting his head as though studying a piece of abstract art.

"She shot you?" Alessandro asked, his tone hovering somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

"No, Alessandro," I said flatly, "I decided to shoot myself in the chest for no particular reason. Thought it'd really liven up the evening."

"It never takes me long to remember why I never come over here," Alessandro muttered. "I would've shot you too."

"You probably deserved it," Emilio chimed in.

"He did," Albert quipped without hesitation.

"How is this my fault?" I raised an eyebrow, glaring at all of them.

"When is it never your fault?" Alessandro shot back.

"You did try to shoot her," Albert pointed out, setting a tray of what was most likely that bitch- I mean Celine's dinner.

Alessandro gestured toward Albert. "Why would you try to shoot her?"

"She gave him the finger," Albert replied matter-of-factly, not even looking up.

"Okay, are you going to keep narrating what happened for me, or let me talk?" I snapped, folding my arms.

Albert gave me a pointed look. "Ah, because you were the one to bleach the blood off the floor for the third time this month? Oh no, that was me. May I continue to narrate?"

"At least she didn't kill you," Emilio said casually.

"I used to pray for days someone would, though," Alessandro sighed dramatically.

"Kill yourself the next time I see you, please," I muttered, taking another drag from my cigarette.

"Oh, I'm already drafting my suicide notes," he shot back with a grin.

"Emilio, do not kill yourself. I cannot make any more tear-proof black dresses for your mother," Albert chimed in as he disappeared upstairs with a tray of food.

Alessandro nudged his head toward the cigarette in my hand. "Pretty sure you'll die first, though. Smoking those nasty-ass cigarettes? Really, Antonio? In this day and age? Cigarettes?"

I attempted to flip him off, but the sharp pain in my chest reminded me I was still out of commission.

My brothers burst into laughter, their giggles echoing in the room like hyenas.

"If she's got you this fucked up, I can't wait to meet her," Emilio said, shaking his head.

"You'd all love her. She's a pain in the ass. All Lucianos are."

"She's a Luciano?" they both said in unison, their expressions shifting.

"Father didn't tell you that?" I raised an eyebrow, amused.

"No! I think I'd fucking remember if Father told us you were marrying a Luciano!" Alessandro exclaimed, his voice rising in disbelief.

"Well you know now," I took another drag from the cigarette. "You'd like her as well. Youngest child syndrome."

"Wait youngest sibling...You're marrying Celine?" Alessandro asked again, disbelief stretching every syllable.

I stubbed out my cigarette on the edge of the ashtray. "What part of that isn't clear to you?"

Emilio shook his head, leaning back in his chair. "No, no. Celine Luciano? How the hell did you end up set to marry Taipan?"

There it was.

In the mafia, people always had nicknames. A way to control the information the moles were giving out to the police. Some of them were silly, like Romeo "Rats" Ferreira. Everyone called him Rats because of his two front teeth. Even after he got them fixed, his name was still Rats. No one was going to call him Romeo.

But your title wasn't just a joke—it defined you. And Celine? She wasn't just a Luciano; that wasn't enough danger in blood.

The Inland Taipan was one of the most venomous snakes in the world. One bite, and your whole body would shut down instantly. One shot from Celine, and you'd never be heard from again. No cure. No hope. Erased so cleanly, no one would even find your shadow.

"She missed," Alessandro said finally, gesturing to the bandage on my chest.

"She's slipping," Emilio added, shaking his head.

"She's insane," I corrected.

"So are you," Emilio shot back. "But I don't think I'd put my money on you in a fight."

"Doesn't matter. I've got thicker skin," I said, leaning back against the counter.

Alessandro gave me a long look, then smirked. "Must be bulletproof."

"Clearly not." I motioned toward Albert, who had just returned, tray in hand. "Ask him how much bleach it took to clean up her mess."

"Three bottles," Albert said dryly. "And a full bucket of water for the walls, which, if I may say, she had better aim than you did today, Master Antonio."

My brothers burst out laughing.

"You're marrying the goddamn Taipan," Alessandro repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is going to be amazing."

"For you, maybe," I muttered.

"For all of us," Emilio said, raising his imaginary glass. "Here's to Luciano family reunions—where the guns stay loaded, and the food stays poisoned."

"Do they even eat?" Alessandro asked.

"Well, judging by how I just gave her dinner, and she handed the plate back empty in less than ten minutes, I'd say yes," Albert replied dryly.

I checked the time—it was only 8 p.m., but exhaustion weighed on me. Albert must've slipped me a painkiller or two. I stood, whiskey glass in hand, the ache in my chest a dull reminder of earlier events. "I'd suggest it's time for you to go. Don't want you meeting her tonight. If you do, I'll kill all three of you."

"I think one of my biggest regrets in life now is that she didn't kill you," Alessandro said, smirking.

"Too bad she missed," I shot back, climbing the stairs with a deliberate pace, my whiskey swirling lazily in the glass.

I made it to the top of the stairs and turned toward my bedroom. Before I could take another step, a flying stiletto whizzed past my face, embedding itself into the wall an inch away. The sharp point of the heel grazed the tip of my nose, leaving a faint sting behind.

I froze, glaring at the weapon now lodged in the wall.

Celine stood in her doorway, arms crossed, her gaze sharp enough to cut through steel. "I don't miss," she said flatly, her voice dripping with venom.

___________________________________ i swear Celine is out to kill this mann but that's what they get for even thinking about Celine losing her skill. she is that bitch and she knows it. Emilio and Alessandro are so funny lmao like istg they just piss Antonio off 😭

anyway how y'all like this chapterr lemme know and please comment it's so fun to read yall so creative

please drink water!!

-zio 🍸