Indebted to the Mafia King

Chloe

My eyes are full of tears a few hours later, while I'm on a flight to Vermont on Tony's private jet with both my mother and Ellie beside me. The other seats are occupied with the soldiers Tony assigned to guard us while we're at the hideout. There are five men with us on this plane, but the others will be meeting us there eventually.

I have no idea how large the tactical force that Tony has set up to be in charge of us in Vermont is, but I hope most of the Saints stay in New York-especially Staten Island-to protect him.

I hate that he made me leave like this. I hate it even more that we didn't get the time to talk through things. I didn't want to leave him behind. I didn't want to run away. And even though I understand why he's doing this, I just can't accept it. I knew Mateo was coming for me all along, but running away again wasn't an option. I have to protect Ellie though, and if Tony is sending us to a safehouse, he must not have everything under control like I thought he had.

He didn't confirm it, but I know the wound in his arm was caused by a bullet. One that was probably meant for me. I still don't understand or accept the idea that Mateo ordered his men to kill me, but even so, Tony wasn't supposed to be hit. I hate myself for bringing him into this.

The rest of the flight and the ride from the airport to the safehouse feels like a blur to me. I barely pay attention to anything outside the tinted window of the bulletproof car. Rocco is driving us while my mom talks to Ellie cheerfully, showing her the trees and cars outside.

The neighborhood seems nice, peaceful, remote. I spot some old people walking their dogs on the sidewalk, a few children heading home from school, but nothing exciting seems to be happening in this place. It's a stark contrast to the chaotic life back in Staten Island. I don't know how to feel about it.

A couple of minutes later, we get to a simple, but cozy street-one I am sure is owned by the Saints. We pass by several houses, some habited and others that look like it hasn't seen a living soul in years.

Tony's safehouse is the last one on the right at the end of the street. It isn't as big as the one we were living in back in Staten Island, but the entire property is surrounded by cameras and alarms, a high tech security system to make even politicians envious. Somehow, whoever installed those made it seem like this is just another regular house. It doesn't stand out from the rest of the houses on the street, but I have only just seen it from the outside.

As soon as Rocco parks the car, another Saints soldier opens the door for my mom and Ellie to climb out, while I open the door on my side by myself, stepping out and heading for the house. I have an entourage following me everywhere anyway, so if I can have at least the autonomy to open my own door, that will make me feel slightly normal.

The interior of the house is cozier than I expected it to be. It reminds me of a countryside manor, although with several modern and technological stuff like central air conditioning and home automation systems.

Rocco tells me the place has already been searched before we got here, so there's nothing to fear or suspect, but surprisingly, it doesn't soothe me. I want to know about Tony and what's going on with him back in New York. I didn't dare call him after I left. I'm still pissed with him and how he dealt with this without asking for my opinion first. I still worry about him anyway.

"Thanks, Rocco," I say with a soft smile. "I'll get Ellie's room unpacked," I inform him.

"Of course." He nods at me. "Her bags are already upstairs, and I'll be outside if you need anything."

I didn't bring all of Ellie's stuff from New York since I know this will be only temporary, but I also don't know how long we'd be staying here, so I had to fill at least two luggages with her clothes and toys. I set about organizing her stuff into the wardrobe, peeking out the window every now and then when I hear a car approaching or voices talking to each other.

I notice a black car pulling up a few houses away from ours, and I know whoever's inside must be more of Tony's guys arriving. They'll be stationed on this same street, acting undercover while watching us. It's protocol not to call unnecessary attention, and judging by the neighborhood we're in, if the residents knew the New York's mafia boss's wife was living on their street with an entire escort system, they would freak out.

It's already dark outside by the time I finish with Ellie's stuff. I haven't even gotten close to my own luggage, but I need to eat before I can continue with this exhausting task. I could pay someone to do it for me, but since I have nothing else to do to keep myself occupied, it feels like a good distraction to have. I also don't think the guys would allow me to hire a stranger into the house, no matter how cautious we are.

I go downstairs, finding Mom by the stove preparing something for dinner. It is an odd sight, but since our luxuries are limited now, we need to make do with what we have available.

"I just finished with Ellie's stuff," I tell her conversationally as I walk into the kitchen and sit down by the table. I lean back on the chair, stretching my arms and back that are sore from the odd positions I spent the entire day in. Getting up and down certainly made me stiff even though I'm still in my mid twenties.

"You didn't have to do all of it today," my mother notes, glaring at me from over her shoulders. Whatever she is preparing smells delicious, and my stomach growls with hunger. "You will have plenty of time to unpack during the next couple of days. There's no need for you to exert yourself like that."

I shrug, even though she's not looking at me. "I know. I just had to keep my mind busy." I sound sadder and more frustrated than I want to, and that seems to spike my mom's interest.

She turns to look at me, her hands on her hips.

"Do you remember when your dad had us go into hiding while you were a kid?" she asks me in a soft voice. "There were more than a couple of times we had to do it, and it wasn't as bad as you might think. It was like a vacation. You used to like it."

"I didn't have any concerns back then other than having all my toys with me," I counter bitterly. "All of this is happening because of me, because I left Mateo and brought Tony and the Saints into this mess. How can I relax knowing this, Mom?" I whine, feeling my heart shrinking with pain.

She shakes her head at me, coming toward me on the table and grabbing my hand. "None of this is your fault," she assures me firmly, squeezing my hand. Her eyes gaze hard at me, her unyielding confidence steadying me. "If anyone is at fault here, it's Mateo. And as for Tony and the Saints, this comes with the job, sweetheart. He'd do it for any of the other members if he had to. So, you shouldn't feel guilty about it."

I still do. And I hate to admit, but I don't like the idea of knowing Tony would do all of this for just anyone. Even if they are members of the Saints. A part of me knows I'm being selfish, but after I left things with Tony in a weird, inconclusive way, it's nagging at me to think he doesn't see me the same way I see him.

I knew the entire time that our marriage was fake, but I still allowed myself to fall in love with him. Or is it really love? I can't say for sure. My feelings and emotions are all over the place, too overwhelming for me to make sense of them clearly. But one thing I know for sure. His rejection stings. More than I'd like to admit.

I hate that he has the power to make me feel like this, especially after I promised myself I'd never allow another man to have the reins of my life, or my heart for that matter.

"Listen to me." My mom's voice brings me back to reality. "This will be over soon. We need to have faith. Mateo might be cunning and powerful, but this is Tony we're talking about. This is the Saints, the family you've known for your entire life. They will take care of it like they always do."

Her words are encouraging and reassuring, but it doesn't go unnoticed by me that all of this comes with a price. Risking the soldiers' lives, not to mention Tony's, makes me wonder if all of this is really worth it.

Maybe I should have stayed with Mateo and endured everything he did to me in order to allow others to live peacefully. At least I wouldn't have this much guilt crushing my heart and stepping over me daily.

But then Ellie's image comes to mind and I choke on a sob. How could I ever allow her to live in such an unhealthy environment? How could I ever consider raising her with Mateo breathing down our necks twenty-four-seven? What kind of life would she have had if I had stayed?

Maybe Mom is right. I need to have faith that Tony will come out as the winner in this war. Maybe happiness is a possibility at last.