Indebted to the Mafia King
Apprehension

Eleni

I shuffle through the hangers in the walk-in closet attached to the bedroom in the city apartment Dante showed me just before everything went wrong a few weeks ago. Classes start tomorrow. Tomorrow! And I haven't even thought about what I'm going to wear yet. Most of my things from the house have been shipped here, but as I flick through them, all I can think about is how much longer they're going to fit me for. Leather pants? Silk camisoles? I couldn't have picked clothes with less stretch if I wanted to.

Someone leans on their horn outside, and I've lived here way too long to jump, but the city noises are still abrupt after so long away from them. The cell the Russians kept me in was almost completely silent, and there are no neighbors by the safehouse. I missed the noise. I think.

My mind drifts to the house on Staten Island, apparently empty right now. It wasn't silent there by any means, just quieter. Quiet enough that I should've been able to hear the sirens headed for burning Piacere, if I'd been in the house when it happened. Yet another blow Dante's offered me the past couple of days. I know he means well, and fuck, I don't really want to replace out about this from anyone else, but we've lost so much.

I'm not thinking about Seb. I can't. Every time I do, I start to break down, which really isn't helping the funeral planning. Part of me just really wants to curl up in a ball in the bottom of the closet. The Eleni who ran the Saints is long gone, and I don't know where to replace her right now.

Dante leans in the door. "I'm headed-oh, El." He crosses the room and wraps his arms around me.

I lean into his hug and try to draw strength. Dante's not falling apart. He's doing what needs to be done. Something jabs into my ribs. I pull back and look.

My stomach drops. Instead of his usual pistol, which I know how to hug around, Dante wears a bulky semi-auto that looks like it shoots .45s, if I'm seeing it correctly through his jacket. "Where are you going tonight?" I ask through a suddenly dry mouth.

"Wing managed to put together a meeting with all the heads of the triads." He rubs my shoulders. "That's enough other players I wanted to be able to blow them away with one bullet."

I nod. He needs to re-establish the Saints. I know that. But a tiny heartbeat I'm sure I'm imagining in my stomach races every time I see him suited up with a gun in his holster. "How late will you be?" I ask.

He kisses the side of my head. "I'll make sure I'm back in time to see you off tomorrow."

Too late for me to stay up. My sinking stomach drops even faster. It's got a whole skyscraper to descend through now.

"I love you," he says.

"We have to get me a new ring soon." I spin his on my thumb. "I don't like knowing I can't replace you."

"Deal." He kisses me on the lips and walks out.

I stare at the rack of clothes in front of me, listening to his socked feet down the hall, then the sharp click of his shoes when he puts them on near the door. The door opens and closes, and he's gone. Just me and Matteo, the guard for the night. I sigh and push a few hangers around like that'll reveal what I want to wear.

The door opens and closes again. No gunfire. Probably Dante forgetting something. Then, footsteps pound down the hallway toward the bedroom. I rip open my underwear drawer and yank out the little six-shooter hidden within just as Gianna skids into view.

"Don't shoot!" She puts her hands up with a laugh.

I set the gun back down and take a few tentative steps toward her. "You're really here?"

"Yeah." She grins. "Did you really think I was going to let you live in a luxe downtown apartment without me?"

It's really her. I sprint the last few steps and throw my arms around her. I didn't even realize how much I missed her until she hugs me back. I've never had a best friend like her before. Suddenly, we're both laughing and crying and somebody started to sit so we're both toppling over.

"I can't believe you're really here," I say once we're lying awkwardly on the little couch in the middle of the walk-in.

"Me?" She pokes my arm. "I can't believe you're here. You went fucking missing, remember?"

"I can't forget." Silence falls for a moment, but I'm tired of silence. "What happened while I was gone?"

Gianna blows out a long breath. "Well, I'm out of a job."

Piacere burnt down. I nod.

"So I was thinking I might take my cues from you and go to night school." She offers me a sly smile. "Camila's a great reminder I can't dance forever." That startles a laugh out of me. "What for?"

She shrugs. "Is there a way I can just try them all for a little?"

"Talk to Dante." I shake my head. "I've never gone to college with Saints money."

"Never yet." She shakes her head. "You start tomorrow, right?"

I groan. "Yes. That's why I'm in closet purgatory. I have no idea what to wear, and I just keep thinking about-"

Oh, fuck, has anyone told Gianna about the baby?

"About what?" she asks.

I put a hand on my stomach and try to replace the words. Up at the safehouse, a baby kind of started to make sense. Back here in the city? It barely feels real. "I'm-"

"Oh my god!" She grabs my wrist. "For real? You and Dante?"

I'm so goddamn lucky to have a best friend who's basically a mind reader. "It's really early. Like, not even two months yet."

She covers her mouth. "I have to get rid of that champagne I brought. And has anyone checked the fridge for those soft cheeses Dante loves? They go to." I laugh. "I don't think the fumes of either of those will hurt the baby."

"The baby." She melts. "I'm gonna be an aunt." She flicks her gaze up to me. "Right? Or a godmother or something?"

"I wouldn't dream of having it another way." I grin. "Now, please, help me pick out something to wear that'll survive morning sickness and Russian aggression?"

"You've come to the right woman." Gianna hops to her feet.

An hour later, the perfect outfit lies between half-full takeout containers of Chinese and a dozen discarded shoes. After all this time, it's so obvious I feel a little stupid. I'm not showing yet, and I need to feel good. So Gianna simply picked out the outfit we agreed upon so long ago, leather pants and all.

"You'll knock the nerds on their asses," she declares.

I take another bite of egg foo young and shake my head, but a little bead of excitement lights in my chest. I'm going to graduate, not just from some night school, but from one of the most prestigious engineering schools in the city. It's already a foregone conclusion. Between Dante and Gianna, I know I can do it.

She flops onto the bed in the other room. "You know how I mentioned Camila earlier?"

"Yeah." I join her with my legs crossed.

"Well, I actually know a couple people in the prison she got tossed in." Gianna twirls a curl of her dark hair. "No bail, RICO and conspiracy, by the way."

I nod. I knew she got picked up, but Tony never bothered to mention her charges.

"Do you want to hear something totally petty?" Gianna smiles.

I hate Camila like I've never hated anything. There's something about her that claws under my skin, ignites something worse than anger.

"Always," I say.

"She tried to 'establish herself' or whatever by taking on someone twice her size"-Gianna rolls over and meets my gaze-"but she's a goddamn dancer, so she got her ass handed to her!"

I laugh, remembering just how easy she was to fight after a week and a half in solitary confinement. In prison, Camila doesn't stand a chance.

Maybe I'd like to see that.