I open my eyes to a ceiling. I am on a bed that isn't mine, in a room that I know. Someone's fingers trail over my hands and I swat them away aggressively. Instinct.

'Honestly, it was better when you were out cold.'

My eyes focus on Christian. He is rubbing his arm where my hands smacked him. I sit up, huddle away from him.

'What in the world were you doing to me?'

He rolls his eyes before holding up a tube. 'Antiseptic. You were scratched. Judging by the symptoms, you've probably got rabies.'

My head throbs. I raise a palm to it. My head is swathed in a bandage and it goes all around my head.

'Oh, you probably also have a concussion. Not that it matters in anyway - your head was screwed up before too.'

I don't reply. Instead, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stand up. I have taken worse hits than these. I've been shot a couple of times, and I had had a broken leg. Compared to what I've been through and will go through in the future, a concussion seemed like a joke.

'Hey.' Christian stands too, and he is pushing me back to the bed. 'You are supposed to be resting.'

I ignore him. I push his hands off my shoulders and walk to the door. I barely made two steps, before his arms wrap around my waist.

I growl. 'Are you mad, Christian? Let me go.'

'I was not done, okay? Your hands are still bleeding.'

I stop struggling and Christian frees me from his grip. He picks up some cotton and begins dabbing away at a scratch on my forearm. I do not wince as he pours antiseptic over it, and swiftly bandages it, tying it up.

I didn't know that he was a goddamn nurse.

'Looks like you have a lot of practice patching people up.' I say.

Touchy subject. Christian's hands freeze over my wounds and he clenches his jaw. He pushes the antiseptic bottle onto my hands, along with the bandages and propels me to the door himself.

'Hey,' I protest, but he seems to have nothing of it. He pushes me outside and is about to close the door when he asks, 'Who?'

'Who what?' I snap. I am tired of this guy's mood swings. If it were up to me, if only I didn't need him, if only he wasn't even related to Arrigo, he would've had a bullet between his pretty eyebrows.

He gestures to my head with one hand.

'Who did this?'

My eyes darken. 'My battles are none of your concern, Christian.'

He snorts. 'It was Leigh, wasn't it? She didn't like that I took you to the party, right?'

I set my jaw. 'Thanks for patching me up,' I say, before I turn on my heel and leave.

////

Rachel's lying face down on her bed when I open the door and shut it firmly behind me.

'I hate your friend,' I say, moving to the desk. She doesn't respond.

'Rachel? What's wrong?'

I see her shoulders shake. She is crying.

Darn it. Not again.

'Rach?'

I place my arm between her shoulder blades. Gently, with a softness I didn't know I possessed, I pull her up.

Her eyes are red from crying. They are puffy and out of place. Her hands move to my head.

'You are hurt.' She says, grasping my hands.

'It's nothing,' I say. 'What's wrong?'

'I messed up. Everything.'

I scrunch up my eyebrows. 'A little more detail, darling? I don't get what you mean.'

'The food date you so smartly set up? Yesterday? I managed to get my sorry self, drunk. So drunk that I teared up there and then and told him I loved him. Right when he was stuffing his face with steak and pot roast. I told him to open his eyes and look at me. I told him to stop hurting me.'

I relax. 'Okay. So you spilled your guts. What's wrong with that?'

Rachel sighs. 'I kissed him.'

I drop my mouth in an o.

'He didn't respond. I ended up taking a big hit to my ego and destroying my friendship.'

'What did he do, Rachel?'

'He left me alone at the restaurant. He walked out on me without even looking back. He didn't say anything. Not a word. I haven't seen him anywhere. He hasn't checked whether I reached home safely. It seems it's all over.'

She starts to fall back on her pillow but I hold her up.

'Look, Rachel. I hate to say this, but Jared's not the only guy out there. Just let yourself relax and let go of him. If he doesn't want you, then he isn't worth your time. Get it?'

Rachel bites her lip and digs the palm of her hand into her right eye. 'Yeah.'

'I know it is easy for me to say, but open up. Go on dates. The guy in your Bio class? The one with the killer smile?'

Rachel smiles through her tears. 'You mean Troy?'

'Yeah, him. He seems a decent guy and totally into you. Maybe you were meant to be his Gabrielle?'

Rachel chuckles. 'You watched High School Musical?'

I shrug. 'I have got weird cousins.' I think about when Sean made me watch HSM when I lost a bet that he couldn't walk the stairs upside down. Maybe his ancestors were monkeys.

Rachel sniffs. 'Troy is not into me.' Her wary eyes flit across the room and I know Jared is someone she can't get over that easily.

'Yup. He is. I can tell from the way he looks at you. Also there is the guy from the football team, Jonas?'

'You mean Jonah.'

'Jonah. Then there is that nerd Matthew, and the hunk Gordon, and...'

Rachel stares at me. 'Coral Collins. Are you setting me up?'

I shrug again. 'Maybe...'

She shakes her head, seeming visibly okay. 'Enough about me. What the hell happened to your head?'

////

'Can I have a peek?'

'No.'

'A teeny-tiny bit?'

'No.'

'Please, just a small, small peek?'

'No.'

'Bobie, don't be a spoilspo – '

I jump on him. I kick, throw and punch, my hair thrashing around me wildly.

Sean dodges. He turns and kicks. I duck. I roll and hit. He falls. I stand.

'Ow.' Sean picks himself off the floor of the basement. 'My butt hurts.'

Jay cocks his head to the side, an arm on Zach's shoulder. 'Serves you right.'

'But I only asked for a peek! I wanted to see what was in her bandage. What if it was Voldemort's head?'

Zach glances at my head. 'Nope. The bandage's too small.'

Jay frowns. 'Who is Voldemort?'

Sean glares at him, fuming. He then closes his eyes and gives out a dejected sigh. 'Muggles. Muggles, everywhere.'

I grab a bottle of soda from the mini fridge.

'Is Blade here yet? I am itching for some action.'

'Is whooping my ass not action enough for you?' Sean picks up a punching bag and hangs it on its chain. 'Seriously, I would've said I missed you, but now no. My body was fine with you away.'

I chug down the soda. I crush the can between my fingers and throw it at Sean's head.

Blade opens the basement door. 'I found him.'

////

Minutes later, we are all suited up and in the Ferrari. I make sure that there are large Gucci sunglasses covering half of my face and my suit is pale crème colored, while the guys wore impeccable black Armani's and Ray Bans.

Blade is at the wheel, with me riding shotgun.

'Where did you find him?'

'The fudger was spying on our latest shipment. He knows about Shane.'

As serious as the problem was, I cannot help smile at the way Blade cusses. Well, I worked by a strict no-swearing policy.

'Seriously,' scoffs Sean, stretching out in the cramped backseat. 'We must be the most well-mannered Mafia out there.'

Blade swerves the car into an empty parking lot, next to a run -down building. 'And this son-of-a-gun is?' Jay asks, grabbing his gun.

'Eduardo. Ricardo's brother and his second in command.'

'You sure?'

Blade shrugs. 'Pretty much. He looks like Ricardo too.'

Ricardo Gonzalez had a bone to pick with me. He hated the fact that I head the Casa, and he hates me. It must also be the fact that I killed his Daddy because he turned out to be a rat. Ricardo and Eduardo escaped, joining forces with the local American Mafia. Too bad, the American Mafia is just like the dirt sticking to our boots – disgusting and insignificant.

Sticking under their protection, Ricardo has been slowly turning my men against me, and has succeeded, somewhat to an extent. Shane was the most recent example. He won't anymore.

Blade leads us to a locked room. It is flanked by my men, and they nod at me.

'Boss,' says the stocky man on my right, Viktor. 'He's not talking.'

I bite my lip and enter the room.

Eduardo Gonzalez sits on a chair, bounded by ropes, wounded, dirty and bleeding. He raises his head weakly and smiles, his teeth bloody, when he hears my approaching footsteps.

'Well, well. Isn't it the beautiful Fiorentino?' he smirks, blood in his mouth forming bubbles. I notice that my men have been at work; Eduardo is missing a couple of his front teeth, and I know that the pliers are nearby.

I pull out another chair, and place it in front of him, the back of the chair to his front. I sit on the chair, a leg on either side, and place my arms on the backrest.

'If it isn't Eduardo Freaking Gonzalez.' I chuckle, but my laugh is humorless and dark. 'It's been so long since I saw you last.'

His curly hair is matted with blood. It shines dully in the faded bulb light.

'I was always there, Alex. I was always around.'

I grab him by the hair so he is level with my eyes.

'I take it you and your brother received my gift. Shane was such a pretty sight, wasn't he?'

Eduardo scoffs.

'You know what I do to rats.' I hiss. 'Your father was one. We value omerta more than we value our lives.'

'Apparently.' Eduardo hisses back at me, his eyes defiant.

'I am going to ask this once, Eduardo. Where is Ricardo?'

Eduardo shuts his mouth. The corners of his lips pull back in a twisted, cunning smile.

'Tell me where Ricardo is, and I will let you go.'

'Bullshit.' He spits. 'You are going to kill me.'

Oh well.

'What kind of a brother is he anyway?' I taunt, trailing my fingers on his bloody cheek, watching him tremble. 'What kind of a brother lets his sibling to risk their life spying on enemy waters?'

I tilt my head. 'Ricardo has always been mean to you. I know that, Eduardo. He traded you for a chance to win in a heartbeat. You are captured, yet he sends no one to free you. He wants you to die. He doesn't care.'

Eduardo's jaw tightens. I smile. He's at the edge. All he needs is a gentle push.

'Tell me, Eduardo. Find your freedom. Let go of a brother who wouldn't even bat an eyelid. Where is Ricardo?'

Eduardo breathes hard. He is angry. He sits straighter, and lifts up his wrist, raising his middle finger.

Something in me snaps.

Maybe it's my frustration with Christian and my debt with Arrigo. Maybe it is the nagging self -doubt. Maybe it's the fact that it has been years. Something makes me reach for the finger.

I curl my fingers around it and twist, snapping his middle finger clean off.

Eduardo screams, a throaty scream of pain. His painful anguish feels like symphony to my ears. Adrenaline rushes in me, and I feel alive.

I take pleasure in other's pain, I feel at peace with a gun in my hand.

This is who I am.

Alex Fiorentino.

I should never forget that.

It's becoming easier to forget that.

Eduardo grits his teeth, the veins popping in his neck. Sweat drips down his forehead.

'You are one to talk about my brother,' he says, his voice tight. 'You, who did nothing when your brother died in front of you.'

I tense up. All feeling leaves my body as my breath forces itself out of my lungs. My palms sweat and tingle. My head spins faster, the throbbing increasing tenfold.

Sean is a blur as he rushes at Eduardo, punching the daylights out of him.

I did nothing when my brother was killed in front of my eyes.

I stand up and kick the chair aside, it topples over. I push Sean away and grab Eduardo by his collar.

'Un'altra volta,' I growl, 'O finirai con un proiettile in testa.'

His eyes widens in fear. I pull out my gun and hold it to his head.

'Speak.'

He swallows. My finger moves to the trigger. I won't hesitate. I will shoot.

'No. Per favore. He's at Apartment 14, West Lane.'

I press the gun deeper to his skull. 'And what is he planning to do?'

'He... He wants to kill one of them.' He jerks his head towards Zach, Jay, Sean and Blade. 'He knows you value them most.'

I smirk. 'It isn't easy to kill them.' I withdraw from him, releasing his collar.

'Bravo ragazzo. You will be rewarded.'

I raise my gun.

'NO!' Eduardo yells. 'You said! You promised! You told me you won't shoot me if I told you where he was!'

I smirk wider. 'Wrong, baby. I said I won't shoot you in the head.'

I shoot twice. Both of his legs. Blood spills onto the floor.

'Use him as target practice,' I say to the others. 'Sharpen your aim. He won't protest, right Eddie?'

He groans. The fudger.

I walk out. I have a seminar to prepare for. I think.

////

I lean back on the sofa. Zach peels off the sticker off a band-aid and sticks it across my forehead.

'So, Christian. Is he still the douchebag?' Sean rips open a bag of Cheetos.

I groan at the image the name creates in my mind. Killer body, handsome face, liquid green eyes. Charmante. Not.

'He's still a tough nut. One moment he is soft like putty, the next he kicks you out.'

Jay leans across Blade to get his hand in Sean's chip bag. 'What do you think?'

I frown. 'I have my doubts. For starters, I don't think he and Arrigo are on good terms.'

Zach inspects my face for bruises, before moving on to my arms. 'Daddy problems?'

I shrug. 'I think so. But I'm still missing the whole picture. Christian has problems – problems that I think are created by his dad. Then there is the fact that the guy is broke and is working his ass off.'

Blade stretches. 'He can't be broke. I mean the Beneventi's scrap cash, don't they? And BenCorp's their new cash cow.'

I prop my legs on the table. 'Legit. I don't know why Arrigo is making such a public move, letting his illegal cash into the direct economy. It just doesn't add up.'

'There was also this guy Fico mentioned...' Sean trails off, looking at me.

'Yup. A Chase somebody. It was like watching someone wire up a bomb. Christian was waiting to tick off.'

'And the others? His friends?'

I think about Rachel and Jared. 'I think they know. Some of it, at least. Rachel is too loyal to tell me anything, yet. I haven't talked much to Jared, though.'

Sean leans back, swatting away Jay's hand from the chip bag. 'Jared? As in Jared Hoftzmann right?'

I raise my eyebrows. 'You know him?'

'Tall guy, good cash, playboy? Hell, yeah. Heard he's heir to H&Co.'

Well, rich kids.

'You don't happen to know Rachel Brown, do you?'

Sean shrugs. 'Nope. Quite hot, by the way. You say she's single?'

Blade, Jay and Zach perk up at that.

I roll my eyes. Men.

'Don't even think about it.'

Jay chuckles. 'Well, you got enrolled in NYU, managed to get Beneventi on your bad side, got trashed by Barbie gang and you say it's your plan. What next?'

I crack my knuckles.

'I don't know, Jay. I just, don't know.'

//////

IT'S THE WATTYS!!!!

Seriously, I've been waiting for this like in all eternity, so I need a happy jig.

This is my first submission to an competition this huge, this AMAZING, and to say that I'm excited would be an understatement.

I am excited, ecstatic, and effing nervous. Like wow. This is huge. My absolute baby is going to battle with wonderful and amazing stories written by talented authors and I'm 200% sure that my prematurely amateur word vomit won't stand a chance.

But whatever. Participation is what counts, and I would encourage all of you to do the same. It never really matters if you don't win, because it doesn't mean you have lost. It just means that you have understood that there's a long way to go before you reach the summit.

Shoutout to all the amazing stories who are competing this year. I have a gut feeling that we will be able to discover freakishly awesome writers this Wattys season.

And, oh. Show Vendetta some love.

Cheers.