𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

[Chapter - 03]

Amara

I was seventeen when my father took away my inhaler for the first time. He made me sit in my room and learn how to ration my air. It was only mild asthma, so he made me run up the stairs multiple times before our sessions.

The first few times were the worst, I could feel my brain slowly rot as no oxygen came through.
But when I managed to increase my physical activity through targeted training, the attacks minimized.

It was a rough time for me, but it made me survive today.
Being choked twice and drugged weren't the scenarios I had when I purposely left my inhaler at home.
I don't need my enemies to know my biggest weakness.

But fucking hell.

I thought I was going to implode when he grabbed my arm and wouldn't let me go.
And that punk Asher Davis couldn't even swing a knife at me to make my life a whole lot easier.

Of course I've read his file, but it'd told me nothing except that he's Japanese and was top of his class in Computer Science.
It doesn't take a genius to understand that Enzo uses him for his brains, but they did seem friendly with each other.

"So what's our approach?" I snap my eyes up to my brother sitting at the other side of the desk, the skylines of New York right behind him.

I raise a brow as I fidget with my inhaler in my lap, the one he storages in his drawer.

"Shouldn't I be asking you this, jefe?" I exhale and lean back in the chair, throwing the inhaler over the glass surface.
He catches it and shoots me a look before putting it back in. (Boss || Spanish)

His eyes, a pair of deep forest green, drift to my collar.

"Is that blood?" His brows furrow in confusion.

Fuck. As soon as I arrived home, he urged me into his office so the stains I couldn't wipe in my car remained.

Taking my answer as a no, he leans back with a clenched jaw. The sunlight of the sunset shines through the floor to ceiling windows and onto his dark hazelnut skin.

"Qué pasó?" his voice is deep and rough, yet I can sense a hint of worry in it. Perfectly resembling his facial expression. His arm is propped on the armrest as his hand runs along his jaw.
("What happened?" || Spanish)

He knows he's not going to like the answer. And for some reason, I don't hold back. It may be because he's in a authority position or that he's two years older than me, but I don't like lying to him.

Unless it's necessary.

"The Italians kidnapped me on my mission today." I blurt out. Watching carefully as he stiffen before he curses under his breath and stands up.

My eyes widen as he makes his way past me and out of the room. I rise up abruptly and follow him down the hall. His strikes are long but aggressive.

"What the hell are you doing?" I hiss, pulling him back by his collar. But he doesn't budge and simply shrugs off my grip.

"I have a plan, Nate."

"Great, let's find out what Papá thinks of it before I kill them myself."

"He knows." He stops in his tracks and makes me bump into his back. Stepping back, I give him room to turn around.