Side Story 6: On The Run

Grab.

Click.

Bang!

The gunshot echoed through the suite like thunder in a canyon.

Beth's eyes flared—wide and wet with disbelief and unshed tears.

A bullet punched into her chest.

"Urk—!"

She choked—turning pale—a gurgling sound escaping her lips as blood pooled on her mouth.

The scent of blood filled the air.

Metallic.

Disgusting.

Then her limbs went slack.

Tony stared at her chest—smoke curling from the bullet hole that he made.

It was clear in the morning light.

His breathing was ragged.

Sweat clung to his skin.

Then—

Blood dripped. 

The sound felt so loud.

It soaked him—almost.

He pushed Beth's body aside without mercy.

She hit the floor like a puppet cut from its strings.

Beth lay on her side, her final role.

Her blood kept flowing, turning the sapphire colored carpet into dark red beneath her.

She wasn't moving.

No.

Not anymore.

And just like that—it was over.

'Fucking finally.'

Tony didn't feel any triumph as he continued to lie there, his back on the floor.

Not grief either.

Instead, there was a strange, unsettling emptiness that came over him.

He was only human after all.

Although at times, he acted like a monster.

A wave washed over him—relief.

It was bone deep, making his body go slack—his strength leaving him.

Angel was safe.

This nightmare—for now—was over.

The act felt both heavy and… unexpectedly freeing.

It wasn't guilt.

'No, not exactly.'

He'd killed before, yes.

As a SEAL, as CIA.

They were targets—strangers who had done bad things.

Orders were orders.

But this?

This was different.

This was personal.

Intentional.

He stared at the white ceiling of the suite, letting the gun fall from his hand.

His mind elsewhere.

"Tony!"

Angel was suddenly there by his side, filling in the emptiness he felt.

Strong.

Clear voice.

His anchor.

Tony closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again.

Angel was now kneeling, wiping the blood away from Tony's face and bare chest using the edge of the shirt he was wearing—it was Tony's oversized black shirt.

Helping him sit up.

The scent of vanilla filled Tony's nose.

Calming.

Grounding.

'He's here,' he thought. 'Angel's alright.'

'He's all that I need.'

"The most important person in my life," he whispered, his heart started to pound in his ears.

Angel cupped Tony's face.

Inspecting him.

He was now fully sitting up—his eyes never left Angel.

'And, that's enough,' he continued to think. 'For now.'

'He felt so warm.'

Alive.

"Tony," Angel whispered back, violet eyes full of worry. 

"Are you hurt elsewhere?"

Tony leaned in a bit, closing his eyes again, savoring Angel's presence.

Then he shook his head slowly.

He couldn't speak.

"Let me see you," Angel pleaded, the warmth of his hands started to leave Tony's face, probably to check for injuries on his body.

But Tony caught Angel's hands back, and gently pressed them to his face.

"I've never felt better," he admitted, opening his eyes, gazing straight to Angel's.

Killing was a foul business, and Tony knew he would never get used to it.

But if it had a purpose, a cause—like protecting the person who mattered the most—he'd dirty his hands again if need be.

Gladly.

'I don't know if it's really over now,' he turned his attention towards Beth's body.

'She's still CIA, and one of those high on the ladder.'

If he wanted to protect Angel more, he realized he had to have power.

Power to fight.

Power to make war.

At that moment, a decision had been made instantly.

"Angel—" he began.

The door creaked.

Tony's silver eyes sharpened.

He snatched the gun from the carpeted floor, pulling Angel close to his side, his whole body shielding Angel protectively.

He was ready to shoot—

Confident footsteps.

"Cugino—" 

A familiar lazy voice.

Sleepy blue eyes—that immediately went wide.

"Whoa, Antonio, it's me," said Alessandro—who had stopped in his tracks, in a gray suit—gun immediately raised in surrender on one hand.

"Dammit, Alessandro," Tony cursed, almost growling.

"Don't you know how to call before opening the door, you don't know how to knock?" Tony scolded him.

Alessandro clicked his tongue in response—suddenly annoyed.

"I've been calling your name outside. You picked a soundproof suite, genius." 

Then, he lifted his brows, his gaze swept the room.

"Looks like I'm late."

"Damn right."

"Oh well," Alessandro shrugged, he opened the door again and called out.

"Pulite tutto. Subito! (Clean this up. Now!)"

Santa De Leones men in gray entered, silent and efficient.

One carried an unzipped body bag, opening it wide.

Four people put Beth's body inside that bag without a sweat, then zipped it close. 

Other men followed, carrying cleaning materials and a new carpet.

Beth's trace was being erased like a smudge on glass.

Alessandro then walked in further, leaving the cleaning crew, he sat up on the misaligned sofa where Beth had been lounging moments before.

"Now then, let us talk," Alessandro crossed one leg dramatically over the other leg.

The pointed end of his shoe gently tapped at the crooked mahogany coffee table.

Tony rolled his eyes as he and Angel scoot over.

Allowing the Santa De Leones men to change the carpet.

They still sat on the now naked floor.

"Talk."

Silence stretched on, broken only by the hum of the clean-up.

Alessandro gestured to Angel, "Is it okay to talk with him here?"

Tony's brows furrowed.

He pulled Angel onto his lap—sat him there—cradling him—as if making a point.

Angel reciprocated the embrace, settling himself in Tony's arms comfortably.

"Yes," Tony answered.

"He's my lover. My partner. My people."

Angel stiffened, hiding his flushed face in Tony's chest.

Alessandro didn't say anything at first, his face was serious before it shifted into amusement.

"Fine," sighing, he finally gave in.

"Nonno has given you enough time to decide."

He clicked his gun and pointed it at Tony.

Tony's body tensed, making Angel instinctively want to glance at what the familiar click sound was—only to be held back by Tony's secured grip.

Anger coursed through Tony at Alessandro's gun pointing.

"You dared—!" Tony raged.

Alessandro cut him off.

Pretending to be unbothered.

"Will you keep running away from your responsibilities? From your birthright?"

Tony's fingers clenched unconsciously around Angel's arms, making Angel flinch.

"W-what? What's going on?" Angel asked, but was met with silence.

Then, Tony kissed the crown of his head, calming Angel down, and maybe himself too.

A tense beat passed.

"Put the gun away, Alessandro."

His tone was dangerously low.

"Is that an order?" Alessandro asked, challenging.

Another beat passed.

"I said, put your weapon down," Tony growled menacingly.

"Now," his face darkened.

"Si (yes), Don."

Alessandro's face now turned serious.

He understood.

He stood up, putting the gun behind him then bowed slightly.

"A car's waiting for you below, Don. At your command."

Alessandro then turned away, just as the clean up crew finished. 

All of the men exited, but not before bowing to Tony respectfully.

The scent of blood was now gone.

Only silence remained, and the lingering chemical scent of the cleaning agent. 

Then Tony broke it.

"I-I know you hate violence, amore…" he started to say.

His throat constricted the words out.

Angel hushed him.

"I understand, Tony."

A pause.

"It's your right. You were born for it—"

Tony interrupted, pleading, "I have to, babe."

The need to explain and to be understood was strong.

But Angel sincerely smiled, and the words were left unsaid.

"I know," Angel whispered.

Tony's heart skipped a beat.

'I really don't deserve him. I don't deserve to be this happy and yet…'

"You're the most lovely person I've ever met, Angel."

And Tony really meant it.

Every word.

Then he asked, "Will you stay with me?"

His voice was full of hope.

He knew Angel would.

But still, a confirmation from those lips would make Tony feel more secure.

There was no way—

Angel smiled a sweet smile, making Tony hitch his breath.

It was a heartbreaking smile.

'So fucking gorgeous.'

Then, Angel answered clearly, his voice felt like echoing inside the suite.

"No."

'Wait—what?'

Tony absolutely didn't see that coming.

**