"Well than, who are you Amelia Lane." Alessio asks in a low voice. Little does he fucking know.
Amelia has had one thing on her mind for the last year and a half. Killing the Moretti family bloodline. But Will she succeed in her suicide mission whe...
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Amelia Lane
"So, how is your mom?" I ask trying to ease into our very much awkward conversation.
He nods, "yeah she's alright" I nod and awkwardly bite into a piece of steak. Well there's not really much to talk about so we just sit in silence for a few more minutes.
I clear my throat, "I have to go to the ladies" I say as I tuck my chair in to the table. He nods and pulls out his phone.
It's not like he doesn't love me right? He's probably just jet lagged. Right? I don't know. We are fine, we will be.
I close the bathroom door and lock it with a click. I sigh and walk over to the mirror, leaning in and fixing my lipstick.
My phone starts to buzz inside my purse and I sigh again when it starts buzzing harder? What the—
"What?" I ask, boredom clear in my tone. I hear nothing on the other side but a silenced whisper. "Hello? I have no fucking time for this, who is this?" I ask impatiently tapping my fingers against the marble of the counter.
"Avery Campbell?" My heart drops to my stomach. "Who the fuck are you?" I ask now pacing around the bathroom trying to keep my tears at bay.
"29 Oakland street, New York. Be there." I hear from an automated voice.
"Wai-" the call ends and I am left a mess with warm tears streaming down my cheeks and my breath being stilled in my throat, like I forgot how to breathe.
I walk over to the door and pull it open with all my strength nearly falling when my face is met with a hard chest.
"Whoa, oh my god" I hear a familiar voice say. I can't do this, i can't stand him up but he needs to know that my sister is more important.
"I have to go Miles, I'm sorry" I whisper before rushing past him and out of the doors of the restaurant.
My car isn't here because Miles drove us both here . I didn't want to have to do this but—
"Give me a set of car keys and no one gets hurt" I Mutter into the valet guys ear with my black glock 26 pointing to his crotch.
He visibly swallows before reaching to the key stand and grasping a random set of keys, "not those" I say realising they are Miles' keys.
He nods as a bead of sweat drips off his forehead. He hovers his fingers over a set of Mercedes car keys and looks over to me for approval. I nod and grab the keys tucking my gun into my purse and leave with a parting pat across the man's face.
