Prologue
Enzo
Past
“Momma!” My body shakes with every breath. I can’t find her even though I heard her scream. I have never heard my mother scream like that before.
I run through the house I’ve lived in my whole life and feel disoriented, like I’m in some kind of alternate universe. Everything feels wrong.
My stomach is twisted in knots as fear courses through me. Maybe the maid just snuck up on her?
I circle down the stairs and down the hall to her room. I am just outside her door when I hear her scream again.
“Just take me! Leave my son alone!” She cries out.
I want to run to her, to hold and protect her. Something was holding me in place, though. Something told me to be quiet and stay put. I know if whoever has my momma saw me, they’d take me.
Where are the guards? Why are they not saving her?
“We don’t want you. We came here for the boy, and that’s who we are leaving with.”
What do they want with me? I’m only a ten-year-old kid.
“You are useless to us now,” another man says as if he is disgusted with my mom’s offer. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I continue to listen to her pleas.
“The boy is ours,” the first man says.
Then I hear it, the last plea leaving my mother’s lips, her last cry, begging for my life.
Bang.
I flinch and stumble backward. Both of my hands come up to cover my mouth to keep from screaming. A gun had gone off, the sound echoing through the house and reverberating through me.
One shot that will forever change my life by taking away the only person I loved, the only person who loved me.
“Remove her body from the house. I don’t want the boy to find it.”
At the man’s words, I feel like my heart stops beating in my chest. My mother. My beautiful, kind, and loving mother.
Why had these people killed her?
For a moment, I was frozen, unable to move my body. It was as if my limbs were petrified. Maybe I was in shock.
Only when I heard men approaching did my survival instinct kick in. My mother died protecting me. I will not let her death be in vain.
I turn on my heels as the man’s voice comes closer to the door. Everything in me screams the need to run, to hide. I can’t let them see me, and I didn’t want to see them.
I run up the stairs to my room as fast as I can, where I shut the door and lock it. I know it will do no good against their guns, but I had to try. Whoever they are, they are bad men.
Not even a minute later, the door handle shakes. My body quakes in fear as I take as many steps away from it as I can.
I can hear the wood splintering against the weight of whoever is on the other side. Looking around the room, I can’t think of a place to hide.
Then my eyes land on the closet. I scurry across the floor, my socks causing me to slide and fall. I just manage to close the closet door when the door to my room comes crashing down. Fear is rooted deep within my body, making it impossible for me to move.
The small crack in the closed door lets me see a sliver of the room.
Two men, covered in black from head to toe, walk into my room. Their bodies are bigger than anyone I have ever seen. I want to be strong like my father always told me to be, but I don’t know how. I don’t want them to find me.
“Where is he?” one man says in frustration as he whips the mattress from my bed. I watch as they rip my room to shreds. As they come closer to the door, I push further back into the closet until I come to the wall.
I had to figure something out—my life depends on it. I feel along the wall to see if there are any hidden passages. I remember all the times my mother and I played hide and seek. I was always trying to find the best hiding spots. My momma always pretended she couldn’t find me.
Then I remembered—the secret hiding spot.
Running my fingers over the wall, I search frantically over the wood paneling until I find the little latch that lets me open the door.
Pulling on it quietly, I crawl into the space. It is a very small area, but I manage to sit down. The men’s footsteps grow closer with every passing second, and my heart is beating so fast I can feel it racing inside my chest.
Slowly, I close the door, locking myself inside the hiding spot quietly. I know if I make a mistake, I’ll be found.
My hands are sweating and shaking, and I feel like puking. I want to run to my mom, I want to be enveloped in the safety of her loving arms. But I know I’ll never feel her warmth again, and that hurt so badly. It brakes my heart.
Tears slip from my eyes and run down my face. I let them go freely, knowing no one will see.
I hear the bad men enter the closet. The door flies open and hits the wall with a fierceness that shakes me to my core. The sounds of them ripping down my clothes from the hangers and throwing my boxes of prized possessions across the room fills the space.
“He’s not fucking here,” one of them growls. I listen to them shuffle around in my room as I force my breaths to slow down. The darkness surrounds me, banishing all the light that I had in my life.
A million questions run through my mind all at once. How could these people come into my house and kill my wonderful mother? What did they want from me? How did they get in here? Who else did they kill? We had security, didn’t we? Where are the maids? Were the bad people still here? Why did they leave me all alone?
As the house settles and the events filter through my mind, I continue to sit in the small crawl space in the dark. I am terrified to leave and discover that my life really has been ripped away.
I don’t know how long I sit in the darkness, but at some point, a steely resolve settles in my heart and soul as I make a promise to my mother.
Someday, when I’m a grown-up, I will make those bad men pay. I will find them and hurt them like they hurt my mother.
They owe me their lives, and I will make sure they pay their debt.
1
Enzo
Present
I watch him squirm in his seat. He is nervous. I can smell it on him. His eyes watch me carefully, trying to figure out what I will do next.
“You realize that borrowing money from the mafia without the intent of paying it back is the same as saying, come and get me, I’m ready to die?” I keep my voice calm and cool. I could mean business without showing it. That’s how I work.
“Enzo, I thought I could pay you back. I swear! I thought I could get a second job, but I haven’t had any luck. I keep trying. I’ll come up with the money…” His voice is shaky and broken, he is so scared he can barely utter a word. I don’t care about his excuses for not having his payment. I only care about him giving me my money, even if that means I have to do something ugly to get it.
“Lorenzo,” I correct him. I hate it when people who don’t know or care about me call me Enzo.
My closest friends and family were the only ones allowed that privilege. When it comes to business, you call me by my full name out of respect.
“Lorenzo,” he quickly sputters. His chest is heaving and sweat forms on his forehead. I can tell he thinks he is going to die, and he will eventually, but dead men can’t pay.