𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋

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CHAPTER 7
the second bigbang

"WHO TOLD ME WHAT?" I ask, the sight of my surroundings narrowing. As my anxiety and fear bubbled up, it was hard to form coherent thoughts, let alone speak of them.

"That we're in the mafia? Was it the Russians? Or perhaps the Chinese?" Nolan's voice was scary, and the barrel of the gun was still pressed against the back of my head, steel cold to the touch as tears formed in my eyes.

Truth is, I had absolutely no idea. If Nolan didn't have a gun pointed toward me, threatening to spill my brain on the expensive carpet, I would've laughed and confessed it was a bad joke. But these acts leave no room for doubt. I should probably keep quiet, anyway. The traitors promised me a stable household, yet the only stable thing in this situation was Nolan's grip on the revolver.

"Did they send you to spy on us?"

"You're not the Peaky Blinders. Get over yourself." It seems that my mouth was not on board with the plan of survival. Tense moments make me agitated, I never shut up in a dangerous situation when I should've never spoken, but this is getting ridiculous. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Who told you that then?" Nico asked, not moving from his spot.

"No one. It was an educated guess. When you're acting like you own the world, don't be surprised when people will think of you as mobsters."

I saw Mafia, so I said Mafia. Really, it wasn't based on anything more than a stupid hunch, it wasn't even an educated guess.

Was I about to die here? My hands shook, and the tears I held back streamed down my face, soon turning into sobs.

"I had no idea. Don't kill me. Please." I sobbed uncontrollably.

I didn't even notice Nico getting up and walking around his desk towards me. Nolan's grip on the gun loosened up, and he might've dropped it, too. But when your mind is traveling at the speed of light, thinking about the possible outcomes -and none looked any good- you can't possibly notice.

"No one is going to hurt you, Noemi," Nico said when he was in front of me. He leaned forward and took my hand in a reassuring gesture. It would've been if he wasn't one mean-looking motherfucker. I shouted hypocrite, but it was all in my mind.

"You just need to tell us how you know, and we'll take care of it," Nolan said from where he stood behind me, hands resting on my shoulders.

"I was just joking. I didn't even mean it," I turned towards to face him, but with my eyes teary and puffy, I couldn't see shit.

Nico sighed as he stood straight and sat on the chair in front of me. "If I die early, it'll be because of the lot of you."

He lit a cigarette, and sat quiet for a while, assessing the situation as he enhaled and exhaled the fumes.

My throat tingled, and breathing became more challenging as the room filled with the pungent smell of cigarettes.

I stay quiet though, trying not to add fuel to the fire. It would be a miracle if they let me stay here, after this shit show. So if I wanted to have the slightest bit of chance of turning my luck around and getting myself out of the life of violence and brutality I was destined to experience, I have to cause the least amount of problems. Which included not complaining.

After nerve-wrecking minutes, Nico reached into the stack of papers, pulled out a pen, and handed them to me. "Go ahead, and sign. You know everything now."

"You'll still give me the money? Even after everything that just happened?"

I kind of expected them to lash out at me and refuse to give me the trust fund, which would be fair enough.