LV1. Wolf's Wife

1. Romero - Man in the dark

"I told you that I don't have the money." I yelled at the figure in the darkness, sitting on the shabby couch in our living room. In my living room, I had to correct myself. I lived here alone since my father died about a week ago. "I will pay you as soon as I sell the house."

I still couldn't wrap my mind around how fast my life was going downhill. I got my college degree this afternoon. Which I should have celebrated, instead I was totally alone. I wanted to be a lawyer since I saw that series when I was twelve. I was on my way to reach that goal. I was accepted into law school. Not the most prestigious, but good enough. Less student loan this way.

I worked harder than anyone I know, at least it felt like that. I graduated with flying colors so to say. I scrapped together the fee for the first semester doing any job I could with my class schedule. And now I was stranded with my father's debt. Which I didn't even know about before he died. I definitely didn't have any impact on it. But those guys insisted not too kindly that I pay it back. A hundred grand. Fuck me.

I briefly thought about dashing through the living room, jerk out the drawer and point the pistol at him. There were a few problems with that. The gun wasn't loaded, for one. And I had a feeling that my movements wouldn't be fast enough to pass by the muscle man.

"I won't try it." He said in a low, bit rusty voice. He read me too well.

The room was in darkness, the only light came from the foyer behind me. He sat on the couch with arms crossed, which only emphasized his broad shoulders. His face was obscured by a hoodie, but his eyes flashed a few times.

They were amber colored. Just like mine. It was a rare eye color. The only other person I knew that had it was my twin sister.

I swayed a bit, reaching for the doorframe. I drank a few more shots than necessary at the graduation party. I wanted to get shitfaced, but I only managed to be queasy in the stomach.

"Sid down kid, before you pass out on me." He grumbled, but surprisingly it wasn't menacing. Or I was more drunk than I thought. A silly hope grew in my brain, that maybe this time I could reason with one of the goons. I slumped into one of the chairs.

"Are you Romero Ortolani?"

I nodded. No sense in denying that.

"Did you send that birth certificate?" He asked and all my muscles tensed up. He was not here because of my father's debt. He was here because of my inquiries. Was he Ricardo Lopez? That couldn't be.

"And you are?"

I regretted asking it almost immediately. He pushed back the hoodie, and a scarred face came to view. Even the dim light didn't conceal how much his cheeks were damaged. And his eyes seemed to lit up even more.

"Héctor Ruiz." He said simply as it would mean anything to me. "From now on I'm the one asking the questions."

I was grateful that I was already seated. Small mercies! The cold sweat pooled at the bottom of my spine and plastered my shirt to my skin.

"Where is that birth certificate from?"

"My father died ten days ago. I found it among his papers. The name of the mother and father confused me. Paloma Lopez née Ortolani and Ricardo Lopez. And there is a document that states that my father, the one I thought was my father adopted me when I was tree. When my mother died."

That was the short story. There were also some documents from hospital, and a coroner. It said that my mother overdosed herself. With heroin of all things. I didn't remember her at all. Any of that.

There was a discharge summary from a hospital after me and my twin were born. I read with horror that the doctors anticipated us to be both dependent on the drug. And we weren't. The report sounded almost surprised given it was written by a doctor and stated that there weren't even mild symptoms.

But all this seemed like too much information at the moment, so I just grabbed the armrest of my chair and braced myself for whatever was coming my way. Threats on my life? Beatings to teach me a lesson? Gun pointed to my head? Been there, done that already.

Then I noticed all the documents spread out on the coffee table before him. Birth and death certificates.

"Where is your twin sister?" He asked. Fuck, he found out about Giulietta. I didn't know how much he gathered, but I knew what Giulietta wanted. We spoke every week and I already told her what I found. She told me that she had enough problems, she wasn't interested in this shit. And I would shield her until I found out every angle of the story.

"She's gone." I said, as close to the truth as possible.

"Her death certificate is missing." He motioned to the papers. I only shrugged. What was I supposed to say?

"You are coming with me." The man stood up after what seemed like a very, very long contemplation.

"But where?" I stalled, but knew that I was only postponing the inevitable.

"Lopez wants to see you." He shrugged and it emphasized his broadness again. I wasn't a small person, but he had a few inches on me in height. As in muscles, I had a feeling that he had all the advantages.

I stood up, and promptly swayed. He shook his head and then headed out of the house. He had to be sure that I would follow him.

As we stepped out, I noticed SUV at the curb that gleamed like a beacon at our shabby neighborhood. I wasn't really in a state of mind to determine its brand, but it screamed mafia from miles.

"Typical." I mumbled to myself.

I had this silly hope that with the death of my father I was out of that world. The debt was still there, but as long as I promised them to pay back, I didn't have to work for them. Not yet at least.

This Héctor guy seemed more sinister than any of my father's buddies. And I was ready to sit in his car without questioning it.

Would Giulietta miss me if I disappeared?

Just because I wanted the truth about my mother, I shouldn't have to die. Ever since I saw her name, Paloma Ortolani Lopez, I wanted to know more.

Ever since I was a small child it was only Lorenzo, who I somehow couldn't really call Father in my head and nobody else. We didn't have any other family. No grandparents or cousins. And Lorenzo always called our mother a whore or a junkie.

No good memories there.

More and more I thought about it, I became sure that Lorenzo was our uncle and not our father. It had to be. The names on the documents suggested it. I wanted to get to the bottom of it, but I wasn't sure that it was worth dying for.

"Get in!" Héctor held open the door of the back passenger seat. I was almost surprised that I wasn't dumped into the trunk. It looked like that I wasn't a threat for him.

When I climbed in and he sat beside me, I noticed that a pretty, young girl was at the driver's seat. She turned around and beamed at me.

"Hi!" She extended her hand like it was the most normal thing in the world. "I'm Catriona. You can call me Cat, if you want."

"Romero." I shook her hand like we met before one of our classes at college.