24. Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Four
Henny
S ix Months Later
Once upon a time, a dumb fuck kid from a shitty foster home met a chaotic rich kid from a mafia family and his life changed forever. It’s me. I was the dumb fuck kid and I was now living my best life ever.
Honestly, I had a lot to thank the d’Ambrosio family for. A best friend who was like a brother to me. A pseudo-mom with enough love for the whole world and even more sass to keep her world in line. A quasi-father who gave me purpose and direction when I needed it most. Hell, I even got a bratty little sister out of it. But the best thing of all was finding my other half. My person. My reason. My Sad Panda.
I smiled to myself as I swaggered down the sidewalk toward my destination. Marco always made me smile like a damn fool. Even just thinking of him had me grinning like a fool. He was still my Sad Panda. He'd always be a bit of a sad panda, and that was okay. I loved him just the way he was. Nothing made me feel better than sitting with him in his shadows and dancing with him in his light. Even when he was well, I went out of my way to take care of him. We all did. It was the most beautiful thing to be a part of. A family all my own.
I stopped in front of the address written on my index card and tried to act casual. Pulling out a cigarette gave me the perfect cover as I lingered near the door to the apartment building and bided my time. As much as Marco had given me, I pledged to give just as much, if not more, in return. Hence, when an unsuspecting resident of the crumbly brick building slipped out of the door, I tossed my cigarette away and darted through the entrance, easy as pie. Step one was a success.
My feet carried me up the stairs. One flight became two and two became three as I tried to concentrate on my job. This was the most important job I'd ever undertaken and I would not fuck it up. Lord knows, I'd fucked up enough times in my life. This would not be one of those times. Not with something this important. I strolled down the hallway, curling my nose up at the moldering mildew scent, before coming to a stop in front of an innocuous door with peeling laminate. Checking left, right, and left again, I pulled out my trusty lock pick set and had the feeble barrier open in seconds.
It was just as dank and gross inside, the air heavy with the acrid aroma of unwashed body and stale beer. Figures a disgusting animal of a man would live in squalor. I listened from the doorway before sliding inside and shutting the door quietly behind me. The pig-like snorting snores from the end of the hallway were apt. This man was a pig. I hoped he squealed like a pig, too.
I slipped the gun from the waistband of my pants and settled it in my palm, smiling to myself at the soft clink of my ring against the metal. I only wore one ring now. It was the only ring I'd ever wear—a simple silver band on the third finger of my left hand. Marco’s ring. The ring he gave me with a soft grunt one night as his cheeks flushed red and his lips threatened to betray his feelings with a rare smile. There was no pomp and circumstance, no ostentatious displays or huge ceremony. I wept like a baby and the next morning, dragged him to the nearest courthouse.
Shaking my head to regain my focus, I snuck toward the blue light of a television and followed the snorting snores until I spied my target. Marco had given me a lot of things over the last six months, but perhaps the most memorable of those things was a list of names. Names I had waited patiently to receive. Names of people who’d hurt him and would pay the price. I'd made it my life’s mission to cross those names off the list and Corrections Officer Greg Burnes was the last one.
I crept into the room on silent feet, readjusting my grip and drawing closer until I was within range. The man in front of me, not really a man at all, considering what he'd done, was just as pathetic as I'd envisioned, with his stained sleeveless shirt and paunchy beer belly. He snorted again, stirring in the recliner to scratch his balls before settling down again. This would be the easiest, most rewarding name to cross off my list.
The muzzle of the gun pressed into the man’s temple and I whistled to startle him awake. Just like I expected him to do, he immediately started begging the second he realized what was happening.
“No, please, I have—”
“No. Stop. Don't.” I pitched my voice higher and sneered, pressing the gun harder against his skin. “You never listened to those words. They ain't gonna work for you now, fucker.”
“Wh-what do you w-want?”
“Oh, lots of things and nothing. I'm just here to pass along a few messages, mmkay?”
The man nodded. Well, as much as he could with a gun pressed to his head. His tears brought me great joy.
“Okay, listening?” I leaned forward and smiled with every inch of my face. “Marco d’Ambrosio says rot in hell. And my message… well, my message is this: you never should have touched what’s mine.”
The spark of recognition in the fucker’s eyes was all the confirmation I needed as the color drained from his face. With a laugh, I straightened up and without a single fuck to give, I pulled the trigger. Humming to myself under my breath, I wiped down the gun with the man’s nasty shirt, and tucked it into his hand like it was the easiest thing in the world. Hell, it really was the easiest thing. No one messed with the d’Ambrosio family. No one messed with my family. I turned on my heel and left. If I made good time, I'd be able to grab dinner on the way home. We were celebrating tonight. I smiled even broader and waved to a few people at the entrance to the apartment as I stepped into the night. It was a beautiful night. Life was fucking great.