The Emptiness She Holds

Mystery after Mystery

Chapter 5: Mystery After Mystery

"So, how much do y'all get paid?" I clicked my tongue, resting my arms behind my neck, leaning back as I eyed the two bodyguards in the front and the ones flanking me on either side.

Their faces stayed stone cold.

"Alright, not talkative? Gotcha. I just, um... need an arm to sleep on."

I grabbed the guard to my left and rested my head against his arm.

He tensed, but didn't pull away, so I shrugged and let myself drift off.

Naptime.

°°°

"Miss, we're here."

A gruff voice jolted me awake, alarms blaring in my head.

The guards exchanged weird looks, and slowly, I let my guard down.

I stepped out—and froze.

A mansion loomed before me, all marble and manicured lawns.

Holy shit.

"Oh my god, Blaire! You're alright! Come inside, let's get you set up."

Mom rushed down the stairs, pulling me into a hug before thanking the guards and dragging me inside.

The floors were the smoothest white marble I'd ever seen.

Too tired to really look around, I let her lead me down long, echoing halls.

A pink door caught my eye—odd, out of place.

My room was beautiful.

Totally my style. I knew Mom had designed it, even though I wasn't sure how long I'd be living here. What a damn shame.

"I'll see you tomorrow, sweetie. Get some sleep." She kissed my forehead and left me alone.

I stripped off my dress and stepped into the shower, tensing as hot water ran down my back and thighs. Nope. Not a fan. I switched it to cold and let my shoulders relax.

My fingers traced the scar that ran from my stomach to my thigh.

Remembering hurts — because with it comes the ghost of who once wore my skin.

I shut off the water and grabbed a fluffy towel, wrapping it around my hair as the curls bounced back into shape.

Wait — weapons.

My bags! Shit.

I bolted from the room but slammed into something—or someone.

I rubbed my head, about to throw a punch—

There wasn't a wall.

I looked up and met icy blue eyes that could saw me in half.

"Here's your luggage of shit."

The voice belonged to the third guy from the ceremony lineup.

I knew him.

Sandy blonde hair with black streaks running front to back—like me. Unfortunately, we really did look like siblings.

I glared, grabbed my bags, and snapped, "Thanks a lot, shit."

I turned and slammed the door shut with my foot, too stubborn to face that jackass again.

Dropping to my knees, I opened the duffle with my weapons.

My eyes sparkled as I pulled out the layers I used as cover, then landed on my revolver—black with a green viper winding around a black rose, the rest painted white.

Customized by a master gunsmith in Egypt with a dark rep.

I set it down and picked up my twin blades, their shining steel almost blinding.

Satisfied, I closed the bag and shoved it under my bed.

Next, I put away my clothes and shoes—surprisingly, they still fit. I'd only grown three inches in juvie.

Then I pulled out my laptop and started digging.

Search: Armani Mafia

The Armani Mafia is the most powerful and influential family in Italy and France. Their headquarters recently moved to New York due to new business deals. The family name traces back to a crime boss in ancient Italy, infamous for the fear he spread. The current Don is Vincent Leonardo Armani.

Wife: Camilla Susana Armani — deceased.

Children:

Elias Religo Armani, 19 — first son of Vincent and Camilla.

Daniel Antonio Armani, 18 — second son.

Anthony Aran Armani, 17 — third son.

Silas Camilo Armani, 16 — fourth son.

Zander Allan Armani, 15 — youngest son.

The five Armani brothers are some of the most feared men in the crime world—gun trafficking, trading, warehousing, violent gang wars, and stopping rival human traffickers in their territory. Their methods are brutal enough to make you wish you were dead.

I stopped scrolling—one name haunting me: Camilla.

More digging.

The Death of Camilla Armani

Camilla, the infamous wife of Vincent Armani, was killed during an attack on the family mansion while heavily pregnant with twins. The Russian mafia—long-time enemies—assassinated the Donna. She gave birth during the attack, but was kidnapped along with one twin. The baby boy was left behind. She was pronounced dead, fueling the Armani men's ruthless vengeance. The kidnapped baby would have been the first mafia princess born in five generations.

My mind flashed back to the pink door I'd seen.

That had to be the baby's room.

I sighed, closed all the tabs, and shut off my laptop and lights.

Locked my door and climbed into bed.

Mom will introduce me to those jackass brothers tomorrow morning—if I don't avoid them first.