Indebted to the Mafia King
Fighting For My Life

Chloe

I should be dead.

I was certain I'd be killed the moment I saw Mateo by the front door.

I don't think I've ever seen him look as mad as he looked a couple of minutes ago.

Somehow, by the grace of God perhaps, when I saw him approaching me with that gun pointed at my face, I managed to take it from his hand after sparring with him and shot him in the shoulder. I think.

I didn't stay there to confirm. I didn't wait to see if he was injured or not.

I simply ran out of the house, not daring to look back, not even once.

It's been a few minutes, and I'm still blindly running through the neighborhood, trying to think of what to do or where to go.

There's no one on the street that I can ask for help, and even if there were, I'd be so afraid that Mateo would kill them for helping me that I don't think I would ask for help anyway.

It's cold outside, and I'm still only wearing my shower robe, and even though I don't dare to look back, too afraid of what I'll see, I know I'm being followed.

Either by Mateo or his men. It doesn't really matter who it is. It's just essential that I don't stop running until I know I'm safe and out of their reach.

I can hear car tires squealing behind me. I look around frantically, searching for an escape route that will get me out of the main street.

A short fence by my left catches my attention, and before I can consider it, I jump over it, ending up in someone's backyard. I pray that no dogs are out here. Unsure if someone saw me invading private property, I run to a shed on the other side of the yard and hide behind it, trying to catch my breath.

My heart is beating so fast against my rib cage that it's giving me a sharp pain in my abdomen. I bend over, taking deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling as slowly as possible given the situation I'm in. Sweat drips off my forehead, dripping into my eyes, making it even more difficult to see what's happening on the dark street I just escaped from.

Police sirens echo in the distance, but they're still far away. Whoever's after me is still out here-somewhere.

I silently thank whoever called the police, though. They must have heard the shot I fired at Mateo. I don't think the neighbors are so stupid as to not have noticed something was wrong with an entire task force being around the house day and night.

A black car speeds off in the distance, the tires squealing even louder than before.

I allow myself to close my eyes for a moment and sigh. It seems like I might have managed to throw them off.

That's when I realize I'm still holding Mateo's gun. My hand is sweaty around it, and for a brief second, I consider simply dropping it into the yard and walking away from it. But I can't leave evidence like this in someone else's yard.

I don't want to incriminate an innocent person, and I also don't want anyone to replace it and deliver it to the police with my fingerprints all over it.

I look around, considering what to do.

My options are limited here. If not nonexistent.

I can't return to the same street. Behind me, there's a wall separating this yard from another. Another dead end, most likely. I can only go to the right, although I can't see where it leads.

I squat on the ground and start crawling in that direction, making sure the gun's safety is on. The last thing I need right now is to fire it by mistake. By the time I get to the other side of the yard, I realize what I couldn't see before seems to be a greenbelt.

I need to get rid of this gun. But what if I need it? What if Mateo managed to survive the bullet? Or, what if his men get to me? This gun is the only thing protecting me right now.

However, I don't feel comfortable holding it. And I don't want to have evidence against myself if the police replace me, a deranged woman in a bathrobe, first.

So, with a confused mind, I decide to wipe the prints off the gun and throw it over the fence. I realize the only thing I can do next is try to get somewhere a little warmer. I can't go to the cops. I know better than that. I'm on my own. I need to replace a phone. I need to call Tony. I need to make sure my daughter is okay.

I crawl back through the dark backyard, and slowly, cautiously, jump back onto the street. Hiding behind the parked cars along the sidewalk, I storm toward the main street.

A black car flies down the street, being followed by a police cruiser rolling with its lights on. There is no siren on though, and I assume they were trying to ambush Mateo's men. Somehow they managed to get on their tail, although, apparently, without the success of actually catching them.

I hide behind an SUV, trying to catch my breath. What the hell can I do? I don't know where to go. I have no phone with me. And there seems to be no one on the street at this hour.

I sprint in another direction, taking a detour through one of the alleys ahead of me. I invade another yard to escape another suspicious car, and I'm immediately drenched by the sprinklers going off.

"Shit!" I hiss, feeling the thick cotton of the robe getting heavier as it's soaked.

I'm wet, barefoot, and cold, but I can't stop.

I ponder going back to the house. By now, everyone has to know the safehouse was attacked. I still don't know how Mateo passed through security, but after all this time, I can only assume the Saints might have established a new combat plan.

Right?

I can feel tears welling up in my eyes, but I can't give up. I need to make sure Ellie and my mom are all right.

Is it possible that Tony was notified before he got onto the plane to return to New York? He left the house not too long before Mateo arrived. So, it is possible that he didn't get to the airport before learning about the attack.

My brain is doing everything it can to prevent me from spiraling and freaking out. I can feel panic creeping up in me, my legs threatening to buckle under me.

I bite on my lower lip, preventing myself from crying.

"Please, God..." I pray quietly, my voice trembling with fear and cold, "just get me out of this."

Stepping out of the yard, my entire body shivering, I turn onto a corner, immediately spotting a silhouette of a man in the distance. I stop abruptly, paralyzed by the sight.

Is that Mateo? Or one of his men?

But as the figure approaches me, lightened up by a dim light coming from the other side of the street,; familiar features make my breath catch in my throat.

Those ice blue eyes I love so much are staring back at me, his mouth drawn in a deep frown.

"Tony?" I whisper, my voice cracking.

He gasps, realization and relief crossing his face. Tony sprints toward me, but it's like he's moving in slow motion. My knees finally buckle beneath me, but before they can reach the concrete, strong arms wrap around me, pulling me up and into the warmest and safest embrace.

"It's okay," Tony whispers against my hair, tightening his arms around me. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm here. You're safe."

His voice sounds like a dream. Like an angel singing. Like I've gone to Heaven and have finally found peace.

I sob, my cries finally bursting through the dam I put up to keep myself strong.

"Come on, baby. Let's get you into the car and out of the street," Tony suggests, picking me up from the ground and into his arms.

I don't see where he takes me, I simply allow myself to sink into the safety of his embrace, hiding my face in the crook of his neck and taking in his soothing scent.

The cold leather seat against my cold, soaked skin is what brings me back to reality. Tony rushes to circle his car and get into the driver's seat before he speeds off. "Fasten your seatbelt," he reminds me kindly, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

I have no strength to argue, ask him where he is taking me, or even what is happening. Right now, all I can do is breathe and gather my bearings.

I do as he tells me, completely silent.

"Are you okay?" Tony finally asks, glancing at me.

I nod, but I don't want him to think that I'm lying or keeping things from him, so I reiterate, "I'm okay."