Vengeance (Updating Weekly)

Part 17

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My mind was racing all night. It took forever to get back to sleep. What the hell was I thinking? It was stupid. It was crazy. I shouldn't have done it. I could never be in a relationship with him and I don't have time for a fling. It was inappropriate. But was it? We were having such a good time. He's so sweet and caring, and he genuinely understands me. But he's a mobster. No, he's a mob boss. He's a killer. He's killed people. I know I have too, but not like him. His life revolves around crime. This whole building was built with illegal money. That can't be my life. I don't want it to be. I know I don't have another choice but to be involved to some extent, but I want to stay as far away as possible. Kissing him is the opposite of that. Kissing him means planting myself right in the midst of it. I know they're entirely different people, but still... my mum dated a mafia boss and she ended up dead.

I decided to ditch him this morning. We're meant to meet up in the conference room, but I don't want to face him just yet. I don't know what to say to him. Instead, I asked the guards to take me to see Angelis. His room is on the top floor. There are only a few suites up here, and I can only assume it's because they're larger than the others. Angelis calls out something in Greek when I knock on his door. I turn to the guards for translation.

"He's busy," one of them says. That's not good enough. I knock again.

"Angelis? It's Erin."

"I'm busy!" he responds.

"I just wanted to check if you're okay. I know you had a bad night."

I'm met with silence. Just as I'm about to give up, the door swings open. To my surprise, Angelis is freshly showered and fully dressed. His appearance doesn't hide the smell of weed coming from his room. I feel stupid I hadn't seen any signs earlier, but then again, I was distracted by my own safety. Angelis doesn't let me in.

"I didn't know you were there," he says.

"You don't remember?"

He shakes his head. "I'm sorry you had to see that. I just got too drunk."

"It's okay," I think there's more to it than that. "I know we don't really know each other, but I just wanted to let you know I'm here if you want to talk."

"That's alright," he waves me off.

"Look, I can relate, okay? I wasn't exactly all sunshine and rainbows when my mum died." I might not have trashed the place, but I came pretty close. "Maybe it's a good thing we don't know each other. It might be easier to talk about it."

"Thanks. I appreciate that."

With a final nod, the conversation ends. I'm not sure if our chat was beneficial at all, but it felt like the right thing to do. I finally don't have another choice but to head down to meet Atticus. My stomach churns as I approach the conference room, knowing he's already in there, waiting for me to arrive. He doesn't even look at me when I enter the room.

"You're late," he says.

"Sorry. I was with Angelis."

"Oh," he turns my way, my anxiety rising. I felt better when he wasn't looking at me. "How was he?"

"Okay, I think. He was pretty casual about it all."

"As usual."

He turns back to the map of the prison hung on the wall. An uncomfortable silence sets between us. It's mostly my doing, though. Atticus doesn't seem phased. He's focused on the task at hand.

"Did you end up getting any sleep?" I head over to him, trying to ease the tension.

"I got enough. Did you?"

"Yeah, it wasn't too bad"

"Do you want to reschedule?"

Yes.

"No, it's okay. We should get this over with."

We spend the rest of the morning finalising our plan. It took us about 20 drafts to finally complete the most important part of our plan — the note we're sending Vassilis asking to accept me as a visitor in prison. In exchange for my life, I'll tell him everything I know about the brothers and the operation they're running. I'll offer to help take them out.

It's not you I hate, Vassilis, it's the whole syndicate, and by putting you away, all I've done is triple the problem. They are keeping me here against my will, as bait to lure you out. They want you dead. They're tracking everything coming in and out of the prison. They will find you. As proof of my honesty, I've included a copy of their next plan of attack. They will not stop until they kill you. Agree to meet with me and I'll tell you everything.

Atticus added a print-out of a previous plan they made but never followed through with — having his goods poisoned by a guard. Atticus had them transferred to another prison for two weeks so their life won't be in danger while our plan takes place. He hesitates before sticking the envelope shut.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes, absolutely," I nod. "Are you sure?"

"I think so."

"You don't sound confident."

"I'm just not sure if it's enough to convince him you're on his side. Will your information be worth it for him? He's a sitting duck right now. He's safer outside of prison, even if we're tracking him. Would he stay there longer than he needs to just to get intel on us?"

"We'll have to wait and see."

"I know, I'm just trying to think of this from his perspective. The only reasons he would accept to meet with you are to get information to take us down and avoid being killed, or purely to have a chance to kill you. If he were smart, he'd accept to meet you and play us. It's the perfect opportunity to get everything he wants. He could get you alone in a room with him, get the info he needs, and then still kill you."

"You'll already be in the room by then."

"If it goes to plan, yes, but there's a lot of room for something to go wrong. The risk is too high."

"Is it?" I frown. "We knew the risks yesterday and you were fully on board. What changed?"

"Nothing. I've just thought about it more."

"Is this about last night?" That's all I can think of that would increase his fear.

"What about last night?"

"Atticus, come on," I give him a pointed look. He knows damn well what I'm talking about. "What happened between us... it can't happen again. I was caught up in the moment."

"I know, it was a mistake," he confirms. "I shouldn't have put you in that position. It won't happen again."

"Good," I ignore the nauseous feeling washing over me. "Don't let it cloud your judgement."

"Alright fine," he gives in. "Let's send this letter and see where it gets us."