Page 139 of Chicago Sin

“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.”