𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

36 | A Fugitive On The Run

TOM

If Y/N thought I was driving erratically on the way to Haz and Robyn's house, then I wonder what she thought of the speed in which I drove home. We didn't speak at all, she just rested her hand on my thigh as I drove, occasionally squeezing it as I aggressively shifted gears or talked to myself under my breath.

Before we left, Haz insisted that he was going to increase this security around the clock across the entire property, he was almost as furious as I was. Yes, his first and only child had been lulled to sleep by a fucking psychopath who had broken into his home, but I was the one who let it happen.

What kind of Godfather is that? How could I have a threat like Priya roaming the streets without doing something about it sooner? I know that we need her alive for as long as the police could charge her for both mine and Y/N's crimes, but fuck me, that little cunt needs to be exterminated like the vermin she is.

"Tom, come on, take a deep breath, go have a shower and I'll make us some quick pasta to eat," Y/N said rubbing my arm as I scowled at my home security screen. I know that my apartment was secure, but the building itself still had to be accessible by other residents. I don't like that. Fuck apartment buildings.

"I need to make some calls," I huffed, moving away from the screen as I enabled every protection system the apartment was equipped with. I ran my hand through my hair a few times, scrolling aimlessly through my phone trying to figure out who I needed to call. I need my best guys. I need everyone protecting Y/N, Haz and Robyn.

I heard Y/N start running the shower in the main bathroom rather than my ensuite, which was rarely used in all honesty. Living alone I usually just used the bathroom attached to my bedroom and since Y/N moved in, so did she. I looked out the window, knowing that my penthouse apartment was wall upon wall made of glass, overlooking the river Thames and easily covered by snipers. I can't stay here. We can't stay here.

In a fit of rage I grabbed the closest object I could grab and hurled it across the living room, and it just so happened to be a bottle of wine. It smashed on the adjacent wall, splatters of red spraying across the room. The smash was what pulled me out of this fury and see Y/N standing in the doorway with her hand over her mouth and her brows slanted in a worried expression.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I-"

"Please go and shower Tom, I'll clean this all up," she said softly, looking both empathetic for my burst of emotion and remorseful for bringing Priya into our lives in the first place.

I wasn't angry at her, not at all. She was thinking the way any mafia member would. I was angry at how Priya was always one step ahead of us and now she had gotten inside one of our fucking houses. She made a mockery out of us all, she made a mockery out of my Mafia reign and she made a mockery of The Family.

And I'm letting someone like that live much longer.

Y/N carefully stroked my arm as I passed by her, moving to the bathroom and closing the door behind me. I want to cry, which is weird for me because I usually try to repress that as much as possible no matter how much I wanted to. But now, I want to cry and I can't. I'm too angry to cry, I'm too livid.

The hot water ran over my back and streamed down my forehead as I leant backwards. Simply just staring at the water spiral it's way down the drain, I couldn't think of anything else to do about the situation than killing Priya; and killing her myself.

I'm at the point where I don't care about going back to prison, if it meant I killed Priya, I'd be happy knowing the ones I loved were safe from her. I would happily walk into the federal courthouse, past the attorneys, past the fucking jury and put a bullet in her head right then and there.

I turned the shower off after a while, deciding that I wasn't particularly washing myself, I was just letting the water run over me. I opened the bathroom door with the towel around my shoulders like a kid wearing a blanket, seeking some sort of solace from my anger.

Despite dripping over the floor and having my dick out, I watched Y/N crouching on the ground wiping up the shards of glass and splashes of Shiraz across the floorboards. She looked up at me with the cloth in her hand, asking me if the shower helped at all.

I nodded.
I apologised.
She said it was okay.
I said it wasn't okay.

"I'm going to kill Priya," I said bluntly.

"No, you're not killing anyone until this court case is over and your house arrest is over," she snapped back.

"I don't care, I'll kill her and I'll go on the run. I'll go become a fucking sheep farmer in New Zealand like I planned before. I'll go into hiding and I'll hate it but I'll be happy because that fucking cunt bitch is dead and not fucking with you all," I scoffed.

"But I care Tom! I care if you go back to jail, or disappear to New Zealand or whatever you're saying! I don't want to lose you again okay? So go get changed, have a drink or a fucking Xanax and just sit on the couch whilst I finish cleaning this up. We're getting through this together okay? And there is no 'together' if you're going to become a fugitive on the other side of the fucking world. And be careful of the glass, walk around that way," she said bluntly, telling me to not walk through the mess as I had started to do.

As blunt and snappy as she was right now, I knew that she was just doing it to give me some sort of sense right now. She knew that sympathy didn't calm me down, logic and rationality did.

She knows me so well.