Vincent

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My brows met, confused. Not gonna lie, for a second I thought he was just joking around but when both of their expressions remained serious, I grew concerned.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love America. It's great there, especially compared to other places, but I didn't want to leave Italy. I didn't want to leave Vincent, specifically. Why did I have to leave? This is the same shit my dad and brother pulled. I hoped Vincent, maybe even Dante, would just tell me and not play the Let's-Not-Tell-Alexis-Anything game. I hated that game.

"What?" I asked, "Why? Seriously?"

I watched as Dante nodded, "it's for the best, I still have to talk to Michael but Vin pretty much already finalized everything."

My gaze moved to Vincent, accusing him, utterly offended. Everything was already finalized? The fuck?

"Don't give me that face, it's for your own protection," he put his hand on my knee.

I pushed it away."Everything's for my fucking protection," I mocked.

"Alexis," Dante butted in, "we'll explain things, just calm down."

I wanted to cry. Not because I was sad, although I kinda was, it was because I was mad. My emotions seemed to be all over the place. Maybe this was pre-period PMS? I don't know.

Vincent glanced at Dante, sharing a look, silently having a conversation. My brother and I used to do it. Vincent looked back at me, taking my hand.

"You were sent here because Michael needed a way to protect you because having you in New York was too much of a risk. That threat figured that out and made its way here, finding where you are," Vincent carefully worded. "Tomorrow, very early, you'll fly back to America to be with your family-"

"Are you coming?" I asked, cutting him off.

"At one point, Vinny and I, yes," Dante answered, "there are things we need to speak to Michael about. We won't be leaving with you, it'd cause too many problems."

"Tito will probably go with you, for your protection," Vincent added.

I swear to God, I hear that one more time, I'll stab someone.

"Vin," Dante called, holding up his wristwatch.

"I'll meet you up there," he nodded, dismissing Dante. "Look, Lex, I'll see you there. I wouldn't do it if I didn't have to," he promised, leaning in to press a kiss to my forehead.

I sighed, not bothering to argue with him.

"I'll be back, bella," he squeezed my hand, standing up.

I silently nodded as he left. When I heard the door close, I sank back into the sofa, a sad pout on my lips. How come I was never asked for anything? Was my opinion not valid? I could take care of myself, most of the time, I just didn't understand why I was never asked how I felt about anything? It was never a 'Hey, how do you feel about going to Italy/America?' 'What would make you want to go?' 'Let me tell you exactly what's going on so you can adjust.'

With a deep sigh, I got up, going back into the kitchen to get some more water. After I did that, I went back upstairs, figuring it best to start packing.

My father was always yapping about respect but it felt like he gave me very little respect. I just didn't understand. Was it because of my age? Would I understand this when I'm older and possibly have children of my own? Was it my lack of schooling? Would things be different if I hadn't dropped out/ been pulled out of high school?