Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Armando
The evening sky is painted with hues of orange and pink as I trudge up the steps to my apartment, the weight of a long day pressing down on me like a heavy cloak.
As soon as I unlock the door and step inside, my thoughts drift towards Hannah.
Her laughter echoes in my mind like a melody, her presence soothing my weary soul.
But the danger lurking beneath the surface–the darkness that threatens to consume us both–casts an unshakeable shadow over my heart.
I collapse onto the bed, not bothering to change out of my clothes and allow sleep to claim me. But instead of finding refuge in the warmth of slumber, I'm thrust into a nightmare that chills me to the core.
I'm standing in the middle of an abandoned warehouse, the air thick with tension and fear.
The walls loom high above me, like ancient guardians of some forsaken realm, while shadows dance across the cracked concrete floor.
My heart races, each beat pounding against my chest as if trying to break free from its cage.
“Where am I?” I whisper, my voice barely audible above the eerie silence.
A sudden gust of wind sends shivers down my spine, and I wrap my arms around myself for comfort, but it's no use. I can't shake the feeling that something isn't right, that some malevolent force has trapped me here in this desolate place.
“Armando,” a familiar voice calls out, echoing through the vast emptiness.
Hannah. The sound of her voice sets off a flare of panic within me, igniting every protective instinct I possess. I need to find her, to make sure she's safe from the dangers that have haunted my past and now threaten our future.
“Where are you?” I call out desperately, my voice cracking with the strain of emotion.
“Help me, Armando,” she pleads, her voice distant and muffled by the oppressive darkness.
I grit my teeth, my resolve hardening like steel.
No matter what it takes, I will find her and protect her from the shadows of my past that have come to claim us both.
With each step I take, determination courses through my veins, fueling my need to save the woman who has captured my heart and awakened a fierce love within me.
Hannah's muffled cries grow louder, guiding me through the darkness.
My heart hammers against my chest, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I navigate the maze-like structure of this forsaken warehouse.
The air hangs heavy and oppressive around me, a tangible weight on my shoulders that I struggle to shake off.
“Armando!” she calls out again, her voice wavering with fear.
“Keep talking, Hannah,” I shout back, my words dripping with desperation. “I'm coming for you.”
“Please... hurry,” she whispers, the sound barely reaching my ears.
I push myself harder, sprinting through the labyrinth of shadows and echoes, each turn revealing another dead end or empty corridor. But I refuse to give up, driven by the knowledge that Hannah's life depends on me finding her.
“Armando... I'm so scared,” she admits, her voice cracking under the weight of her terror.
“Stay strong, Hannah,” I plead, my own fear seeping into my words. “I'll find you. I promise.”
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I reach a dimly lit room at the heart of the warehouse. And there, tied to a chair in the center of the space, is Hannah. Naked, vulnerable, and trembling with fear, her eyes lock onto mine, wide and pleading.
“Armando,” she gasps, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You found me.”
“I'm here,” I say, my voice strained with relief and determination. “I won't let anything happen to you.”
As I move closer, I can see the ropes biting into her skin, leaving angry red welts across her wrists and ankles. My fingers fumble with the knots, my urgency making the task more difficult than it should be.
“Who did this to you?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady as I work to free her.
“I don't know,” she admits, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for answers. “They kept their faces hidden.”
“Once I get you out of here, we'll make sure they never hurt you again,” I promise, my hands shaking with anger and fear.
“Do you really think we can escape them?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“Fuck yes,” I reply, forcing confidence into my words even as doubt gnaws at the edges of my mind. “I won't let anyone or anything come between us. Not now, not ever.”
A faint smile flickers across her lips, her eyes shining with love and trust despite the terror that still lingers in their depths.
And in that moment, I vow to myself that no matter what it takes, I will protect this woman–the one who has brought light back into my darkened world and given me a reason to fight for a better future.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“Always, Flowers. Always,” I reply, my heart swelling with determination as I finally untie the last knot, setting her free from her bonds.
As I step closer to Hannah, the air around us seems to thicken, as if charged with an impending storm. The hairs on the back of my neck rise, and a shiver of dread snakes down my spine. Without warning, the warehouse is filled with the low murmur of voices–voices that I recognize all too well.
“Armando,” Hannah whispers, her eyes wide with fear. “Who are they?”
“Stay quiet,” I urge her, my voice barely audible. I can feel their presence closing in around us, like vultures circling their prey.
“Long time no see, Mando,” one of them sneers, stepping out from the shadows. His grin is cruel, his eyes cold and calculating. I recognize him as one of my former mafia associates, a man I had hoped never to cross paths with again.
“Leave her alone,” I growl, positioning myself between Hannah and the menacing figures. My heart hammers against my ribcage, but I refuse to let them see any signs of weakness. My dark world has found me, but I'll be damned if I let it take away the only person who truly matters to me.
“Ah, so this is the girl who's got you so whipped, huh?” another one chimes in, leering at Hannah. “You should have known we'd find you eventually, Armando.”
I glance over my shoulder, locking eyes with Hannah. Her gaze is filled with terror, but there's also a flare of determination there. As if she’s silently urging me to fight back.
“Get away from her,” I snarl, my fists clenching at my sides. With every fiber of my being, I want to protect Hannah–to shield her from these monsters and the horrors that they represent.
As if sensing my resolve, the men lunge forward, their faces twisted with malice and vengeance. I throw myself into the fray, fists flying as I slam them into the first attacker. The impact jolts through my arm, but it only fuels my adrenaline.
“Armando!” Hannah cries out, her voice strangled with fear.
“Stay back!” I shout, desperation clawing at my insides as I struggle to keep the attackers at bay.
But they just keep coming–too many for me to handle alone. Their numbers give them an advantage that I can't overcome, no matter how fiercely I fight. Blow after blow rains down upon me, each one landing with brutal precision.
Pain flares through my body, but it's nothing compared to the agony of knowing that these men are here because of me–because of the life I led before I met Hannah. My past has caught up with me, and now she's the one who will pay the price.
“Armando,” she whispers, her eyes filled with love and trust even as tears stream down her cheeks. “Tonight’s the night I die.”
I wake up wanting to die. It’s the fourth fucking night in a row I dreamt about Hannah. Nightmares. Always with her in danger because of me. About to be killed. Tortured, screaming my name. All to hurt me. This time it was at Lollipops. She was there but tied to a chair, naked.
Like it was the guys in the Outfit who wanted to hurt her and not some street gang.
She was screaming my name, begging—not for them to leave her alone but for them not to kill me.
I don’t know where I was in the dream. There, but unable to help. My limbs wouldn’t move. My mouth couldn’t speak. I tried to shout, to fight, but nothing happened.
I roll off the bed. I’m still in my clothes from yesterday, soaked with sweat, reeking of whiskey.
Since the night Hannah broke up with me, I’ve drunk myself to sleep every night, but alcohol does little to numb the sensation of having my heart cut out with a chainsaw. Everything swirls around me like a fog.
I pull off my clothes and step into the shower. All week, I’ve tempted fate. I’ve been at my apartment. Gone to my job. Walk in broad daylight. Done everything I can to fucking dare the Hermanos to find me, but my deathwish isn’t answered.
I just want to get things settled. Kill or be killed.
Then, maybe, I’ll find my way out of the dark.
My phone rings while I’m in the shower, and I shut off the water and step out to get it.
“Luis.”
“Hey, I talked to one of the Hermanos. It’s not about the guy you ended in prison—they don’t seem to care about that. Word is a few of them are working for hire. Nothing personal.”
Nothing personal.
“You found out who hired it?”
“Nah. Guy I talked to didn’t know. I’ll keep trying, though.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“Uh huh. You good for this?”
“How much do I owe you?”
“Seven hundred.”
It’s seven hundred bucks for not a lot of info, but I don’t complain. “I’ll drop it by.”
“Cool.” He ends the call, and I stand there, dripping.
All I can think about is Hannah. I have to clear this fucking contract.
For her.
Even if she never wants to see me again.
Even if we never talk, never touch again.