Adrian stared at her with wide, disbelief filled eyes.

"You . . . killed your father?" He repeated slowly, like he was the one trying to comprehend what she'd said. Hearing him say it again sent her spiraling. She buried her face in her blood stained palms, shaking with her sobs.

"Hey, hey, it's ok, just breath, I need you to talk to me so we can figure it out." He pulled her hands from her face, forcing her to look at him. She sucked in a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut. Breath.

After a moment, she finally managed to get her breathing under control, the tears dried against her cheeks.

"It was a setup." She exclaimed shakily. "Leo, he's my dads son, I'm assuming he must've had him with his first wife. He talked about how weak my father had become, that someone new needed to take over the head of the family. And his means of doing that, was by making me kill my dad, probably so he could frame me." She fell silent, waiting for Adrian's response. He leaned back in his seat, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Leonardo Bonnano." He said finally. "He supposedly died with his mother, but I guess that's not the case. Fucking hell this is bad." He ran a hand through his dark hair. Mira held her breath, squeezing her eyes shut. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. She knew shit had hit the fan, that she was completely and utterly fucked, but seeing Adrian panic only made things ten times worse.

"Mira," He said, and she slowly opened her eyes.

"I meant Leo being alive is bad. With your father dead, that puts him next in line for the boss's position. You're going to be ok, I promise."

Mira nodded absently, leaning her head back. She just needed a minute to process everything. Her father was fucking dead, she'd watched the life literally seep out of him.

"Shit Mira," Adrian jumped up, his hand reaching towards her neck. "You're bleeding," He finished, rushing into his room and returning with a first aid kit. He dropped down next to her and began disinfecting her wound. 

She didn't even have the energy to flinch away from the stinging touch of disinfectant on her open cut. All she wanted to do was sleep so she didn't have to think about it anymore.

"I was selfish," She whispered, her head still leaned back as Adrian began bandaging her neck. "I could have let him do it, put up at least some kind of fight against him . . . but I was a coward who valued my own life over my father's." Her hands balled up into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palm. 

Suddenly, Adrian stood up, lifting her chin so that she was staring right into his eyes.

"You're not a coward Mira. You should have never been in that situation in the first place. If anyone's a coward, its that bastard Leonardo. If he wanted his father dead, he should have killed him his damn self." She could tell he meant every word he said, but it did nothing to ease the guilt that suffocated her. She merely nodded at his words, pulling her face from his grasp.

He didn't say anything, packing up the first aid kit and disappearing into his room. When he came out, Pickles was in his arms. The dog leapt down and came darting towards Mira, jumping onto her lap and excitedly licking her face.

She smiled softly, planting a kiss on his furry head. Pickles couldn't get rid of the feelings coursing through her, but he could dull them just a little bit. Adrian settled down in a chair on the opposite side of the room, not saying a word while Mira reunited with her dog. 

Her smile disappeared as she realized she was leaving dark red marks on Pickle's fur. Her father's blood. She quickly pulled her hands away, sucking in a sharp breath.

"Do you mind if I shower?" She asked softly, glancing over at Adrian. He nodded.

She carefully slid Pickles off of her and slipped through his bedroom and into the bathroom. She peeled her clothes off, avoiding the mirror entirely as she turned the water on. She waited until it was scorching hot before getting in, inviting the burning sensation she felt as it hit her skin. She grabbed the soap and began scrubbing her hands, turning the water red as it flowed down the drain. She continued to scrub, even after the blood had been completely washed from her hands, desperate to somehow erase the sin that was stained far deeper than her flesh.

After nearly thirty minutes, she turned the water off, her hands raw from vigorously scrubbing them. She noticed a stack of clothes resting on the edge of the sink, realizing Adrian must've placed them there sometime while she was having another mental breakdown in the shower.

She let out a long sigh, slipping on the oversized t shirt and baggy sweatpants, most definitely his and several sizes too big . . . but much better than her own clothes which were stained with her father's blood.

She spared a glance in the mirror, a pair of empty blue eyes staring back at her. She turned away, not really interested in staring at her own depressing reflection.

When she returned to the living room, Pickle's was sitting at Adrian's feet while he typed on his computer. He lifted his eyes to look at her.

"I'm sorry about the clothes, they're the smallest I had . . ." He began, but Mira stopped him, offering a small smile.

"It's alright, thank you." She walked over to the duffel she'd taken from her father's apartment, reaching in and pulling out his phone. The screen lit up, a picture of her and her mother filling the screen. 

She bit her lip, turning towards Adrian.

"Before he died, my dad gave me his phone. I'm sure there will be a lot of useful files on here," She walked over and handed him the phone, his eyes widening. He took it from her, quickly finding a usb port and plugging the phone into his computer.

"This . . . this will more the level out the playing field for us." He stated. Mira should have been happy to hear those words, but quite frankly, she didn't care anymore. The Bonnano or Lucchese family, whoever won this war of power, it didn't really matter. They were all just pieces of the same puzzle. 

Mira returned her attention to the bag, going through its contents. A gun and dagger rested at the very top, unsurprisingly. She also found a passport, wad of cash and . . . a journal? Mira took the journal into her hands, running her fingers over it's leather binding.

She flipped open to the first page, reading the date listed at the top. 07/19/2003, three years before she was born.

I made myself a promise when Clarissa died. I promised that I'd never drag anyone else I cared about into my disgusting lifestyle. So why is it so hard for me to let her go? I have the blood of hundred on my hands, yet I still crave this feeling . . . I don't deserve love. A man like me deserves to spend his life alone, to bear the burden of his sin by himself. She hasn't seen the real me, a man who already has a spot waiting for him in the darkest depths of hell. When she see's me for the man I really am, she'll run away, just like everyone else. I can't keep pretending there's hope for us. She deserves someone better.

So this was his personal journal. Mira flipped the pages, reading over them.

8/03/2003

I told Marianna everything. I told her all that I've done, the heinous operations I run now . . . but she didn't run. She did the opposite. She showed me a future with her, one where I left the mafia behind. She saw a side of me I didn't know existed . . . a good one? I never claimed to be a good man, I was far from it, but she's making me wonder if even after all I've done, maybe there was still a chance for me to change. Maybe my path could change . . . but would I hurt her in the process? My father has fallen ill, and arrangements are being made for me to take his place. Even if there is a way, how can I escape the responsibility being forced on my shoulders? I may be naïve, but for now I'm hopeful. Maybe, after a life shrouded in darkness, I've finally found the light.

9/17/2003

My father died today, and I was officially named the head of the Bonnano family. For many, this would be a great day, but now, I've only become even more trapped than before. To decline this position make me a traitor to my family and put a target over my head, leaving me no choice but to accept this new role. My hope is beginning to dwindle once again, but I saw Marianna, and she reminded me of the future I was fighting for. I may be trapped for now, but I will continue to search for a way out.

4/05/2004

Today Marianna and I got married. We filled out the paperwork, and celebrated just the two of us. I knew she had dreamed of a fairytale wedding, and someday, I'll find a way to give it to her, but for now, this was enough. We sat on the rooftop of her apartment and watched the stars, her eyes lighting up every time she found a constellation. I broke my promise to give up on love, but I think I did the right thing. She brings out the best in me, makes my hellish life bearable. I'll do anything to protect her, my shining star.

10/04/2006

She was beautiful. When Marianna told me she was pregnant, I was horrified. How could I bring a child into my world so full of violence and greed? But now that I've held her, looked into those beautiful blue eyes, I realized that she was going to save me. I'm going to escape the mafia for good, so that I can be the husband and father they deserve. I will protect you from all the darkness in this world, my sweet, sweet Amira.

Mira's vision blurred as her tears fell onto the pages, images of her father's corpse plaguing her memory. She clutched the journal to her chest, her body shaking as sobs escaped her lips. Suddenly, she felt Adrian's arms wrap around her, his chin resting against her head. She leaned back into his embrace, clutching onto his arms as she cried.

She cried, not for her own loss, but for her father's. All he ever wanted was to escape the life he'd been forced into, and instead, he lost everything . . . and no one would know who he really was, the part of him only her mother saw.