Luciano | Book I ✓

Chapter Seventeen

A/N: *insert ear piercing scream here* yay! 1M reads! Thank you all so much!

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P.S. - I want to thank @T-Arth for helping translate a few words and phrases.

P.P.S - I actually got a few comments that said Luciano and Omerta should do a crossover. I laughed a lot because...I mean would that not be a dream for me...but then I thought about it and here's 2 reasons why I doubt it will happen.

1.) I do not know Ms. Author of said book.

2.) The female population would come to an end because nobody's ovaries could handle that.

~ ~ ~

Where did I go wrong?

The question repeats itself constantly in the back of my head as I step out of Liam's recently washed, all-shiny black BMW. I'm pretty sure the part where I ran up the steps and not out the door was the main factor in all of this. When you're scared, you aren't thinking straight; clearly.

My eyes immediately fall over the homely looking apartment building that stands - just barely - in front of me. I latch my hand on to the top of the car door as I use it as a body shield as I can the premises.

This was nothing like the rich, money-oozing Los Angeles areas I was used to.

The outside of the building was made of brick, with ivy running nearly straight up its entire side. A pair of steps led to the entrance - which consisted of two doors barely hanging onto their hinges. I tore my gaze away from the horrible condition of the building and to its surroundings. The parking lot needed a lot of help - along with the cars sitting in the parking lot. I saw nothing nicer than a 2005 styled car, Liam's BMW surely sticking out like a sore thumb.

I managed to tap the lock button three of four times as I carefully walk towards the front door. Luciano's car beeps multiple times, indicating it's locking of the doors, but that isn't enough for me. I hit the button another dozen times before finally feeling slightly more secure.

As I stand outside the building, still hesitating on whether to enter, I peel out the thin piece of paper Liam had handed to me earlier. Rotating it between my fingers, I glance at the fancy, italic-like handwriting that told me my destination. I lift my gaze, only to find the same building number on the card, on the building ahead of me. Internally, I had wished I had made a wrong turn somewhere.

Why couldn't Liam do this? I groan on the inside as I run a hand through my hair. I rock on the balls of my feet as I take a look around, the area itself giving me chills. At this point, I was certain I would feel safer inside the building than outside.

My mind repeated my earlier question about Liam as I pushed the door open with my foot. It was clear why Liam couldn't come: he was sick. From the moment I walked into his room this morning, I knew something was wrong. His face held a layer of sweat that wasn't natural, and his constant trips to the bathroom definitely indicated that something wasn't quite right.

Melanie had insisted that he stayed home; reminding him that she would take care of him. Rosie too joined in, hands on her hips, as she ran around gathering anything that her mother thought they would need to heal her brother. When the two care-givers had left to get Liam a cool glass of water, he had turned to me and uttered words I never wanted to here: I need you to do something for me.

After convincing me that I wouldn't be shot at, choked, lunged at, or dumped in a back-alley dumpster, I went. He had handed me this slip of paper with the address and a name I could hardly pronounce with my feeble, American accent.