Indebted to the Mafia King
Bad News

Dante

I

I open my eyes to see a popcorn ceiling overhead. Before I can finish thinking how much I fucking hate popcorn ceilings, a pain like I've never felt before rips through my chest. I grunt and try to twist away from it. My cheek meets a plastic couch cover, and I recoil.

Where the fuck am I?

Glancing around as much as I can without agitating whatever's going on in my chest yields little. Puke-brown walls. The back of the couch I seem to be laying on, a grandmotherly floral print. Popcorn fucking ceilings. I inhale and smell...soup? Chicken soup, I think, and medicinal alcohol.

None of this makes any goddamn sense, and I feel like shit. My mouth is dry like I got blackout drunk and collapsed in someone's shithole apartment, but I haven't done that since college. Getting that drunk is just offering my enemies an opportunity at this point. But I can't piece enough memories together to come up with another idea.

Finally, I grit my teeth against the pain and lever myself up a little. I nearly puke from how bad it hurts, but a few deep breaths through my nostrils, and I think I'm steady. I open my eyes and look down at myself. "Holy shit," I mutter.

My chest looks like somebody turned me into Frankenstein, tight black stitches spidering in every direction like railroad tracks. A few staples gleam in my skin. They look medical, for which I'm thankful. My legs seem fine, though I'm wearing a pair of light blue sweatpants I've never seen before in my life. I scrape through my memories for details. Eleni and I met Thano, who betrayed us. A couple of Luca's goons whisked her to a warehouse in Jersey. I followed the beacon from her GPS necklace there. And then....

"Motherfucker." A broad woman with a scowl on her lined face steps into my limited view. "You're going to undo all our hard work. Back to sleep."

"N"

She grabs my arm and jams a needle into it before I can finish the word. The world goes black around me.

I open my eyes to see a popcorn ceiling overhead. I fucking hate popcorn ceilings.

A wave of déjà vu washes through me. I've done this before. But last time...last time, I couldn't see the top of someone's dark hair. And my chest hurt like I'd been hit by a truck. Now, it just hurts like I was hit by a mid-sized sedan. I twist my head to the side to see who's sitting next to me.

Tony, his hair slightly rumpled in a way I know means he's coming apart at the seams, perks up when I move. "Dante! Thank fuck-"

"What the fuck is going on here?"

Tony purses his lips for a second. It's his worst tell. He's got crap news.

"Come on, Tone," I say. "Don't fuck around."

"Luca shot you," he says.

I scowl.

"Then Eleni shot him," he continues. "He's dead."

I exhale slowly. She did it. She got her revenge. I only hope it tasted as sweet as she wanted it to.

"Do I have a prognosis?" I ask.

"Yeah, Poindexter, Domino figures you died last week." Tony rolls his eyes. "You're at his place, by the way. Safer than a hospital. No one knows you're here but me, Dom, and the doctor in our pocket."

My heart skips a beat. "Last week? How long have I been out?"

He purses his lips again. The bastard. "About two weeks."

I drop my head back against the pillow and stare at the fucking ceiling. Two weeks ago, I was shot, and a man called Domino has been storing me on his couch since then. He must've been the one who reconstructed my chest. I owe him for that. More than a standard favor. Shit, a bullet to the chest, I should be six feet under already. But if Tony's confident enough to be an ass, I must be out of the woods. Once I get out of this place, Eleni and I can actually start a life together. "How are things?" I ask quietly, hoping he'll say fine and that I can hole up with Eleni somewhere to recuperate.

He sighs. "A lot has changed. John is dead."

Well, shit. Uncle John was a dick in the days before I was shot, but I have fond memories of him from when I was younger. Much younger.

"Help me sit up," I say.

Tony squeezes an arm between my shoulders and the pillow, then leans me against the back of the couch. I wince as the pain doubles, but I don't make a noise.

"Gonna have to get you a wheelchair at this rate," he says.

"For keeping me locked up here for two weeks, I might want to start shopping in your size," I mutter. "The sweatpants Domino's too?"

Tony shakes his head. "The wife's. Domino's were too big."

I close my eyes and inhale slowly. "If anyone ever learns that, I'll send a piece of you to your nonna."

"And never taste her lasagna again?" He grins.

I eye Tony for several more seconds as my brain starts to catch up to my body. Two weeks. Two fucking weeks...

A few more pieces of the puzzle fall into place in my mind. Seb, Tony, and I went into the warehouse with backup outside. Luca taunted me, touched Eleni in places that made me see red. I shot first. Then, my memory fizzles out again. "Is Eleni okay?" I ask.

Tony purses his lips, and disappointment nearly drowns out the pain. She's alive, he wouldn't have hidden that from me, but that face can only mean one thing. She went to Greece. I don't begrudge her that. It doesn't exactly seem like Domino's place has visiting hours. But I begin tallying the calls I need to make to get on the next plane to that little seaside town I know she mentioned at some point and bring her back.

"How much do you remember?" he asks. "From after you got shot?"

What? "Zilch."

Tony nods slowly. "You don't remember Eleni saying she loved you?"

The memory blossoms in my mind like a movie. Dizzying pain, my own ragged breaths, and a bloodstained Eleni leaning over me, saying she loved me. Saying nothing could convince her otherwise. Goosebumps creep over my arms, and I know I don't want to remember the next part. But the movie keeps playing. I sputter nonsense, choke on my own blood, decide I can't keep lying to her. And then I tell her I killed Christos. Her face shutters in my mind's eyes, the second before the memory goes dark.

Fuck.

"I've got some bad news," Tony says, heaving a breath. His expression softens, and he shrugs, looking almost disbelieving as he continues, "A lot has changed."