We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.

~Oscar Wilde~

Romano

A few weeks later, Stefano, through one of his men, sent me a note. If I weren't in such a fucked up situation, I would have laughed. But I did not. Looking at that piece of paper told me more than the words did. One was that Silvio was still missing, and Stefano had no idea where he was. The second was that he wanted me to settle his debts in exchange for Mia. The third wasn't clear for me, but I knew there was, and that was the only reason I agreed to meet him.

In response to his note, I wrote I wanted to meet him in a neutral place; I wasn't stupid to walk in a fire knowing it would burn me. We both agreed on the undeveloped site downtown—an open area with people walking by. Bruno and Devonni came with me, though I regretted bringing Bruno because the bastard smoked so much the smoke felt like it was getting into my lungs, and my new car smelt of tobacco.

"Why the hell are you smoking as if you are competing for the best smoker of the year?" I asked, looking at him through the rear mirror. "Please tell me there exist a competition like that." he winked while taking a long drag from the cigarette running his hands throw his hair. It was becoming longer than he usually let it. I glared at him before turning my attention back to the road before I could get all of us killed. Devonni sat silently next to me, but once in a while he let out a sign, I knew he was nervous, scared even, I got the feeling this kid was in deeper shit than he was letting on. He was in the worst business, and he didn't have the guts for it.

"You know, kid, none of us will fault you for walking away from this," I told him, my eyes resting on his face for a second before dragging them back before I could hit the truck in front of us, then back to him again. He smiled shyly, shaking his head with his eyes fixed at the front without blinking as if he was looking at something exciting or afraid whatever he was looking at would disappear if he moved his eyes for even a heartbeat. We drove in silence, no single sound except the sound of our breathing and Bruno's exhaling pattern that felt as rhythmic and as ironic as it sounds, euphoric. "I don't wasn't to walk away," he muttered, clearing his throat. I wasn't expecting him to answer; I thought he wouldn't. I nodded, keeping myself from saying anything further on the subject because I knew he didn't want to talk about it either.

"Walking away doesn't mean you're weak, It just means you're not cut out to kill people right, left and center," Bruno mumbled, affectionately ruffling Devonni's hair like he was twelve, a cigarette still stuck at the corner of his mouth. I wouldn't say I liked how Bruno described us, but I wouldn't fault it because it was almost factual.

Finally, we got to our destination to find Stefano, and his men were already there. He looked frail, seated in a foldable chair with the wind whipping his shoulder-length hair a clear indication that he'd stopped going through cancer treatment. He had lost an immeasurable amount of weight; a pale face with long fingers that gestured at us the minute we walked through, he looked tired and gaunt. "You look worse than I expected," I said with lack of empathy in my voice, I had none, I figured there was no reason to fake one.

Lifting his tired face on me, he acknowledged the three of us in a nod, his face resting a second more on Bruno. "You look familiar." His voice broke in a bout of coughs that sounded like someone with tuberculosis.

"Of course, I do. I raided your kitchen three years ago." Bruno said with a careless shrug, moving to stand in the opposite position that allowed him to see all of us. "Not that, you seem really familiar." Stefano insisted, fixing his tired eyes on Bruno, who stared right back without blinking, but I saw a flint of uneasiness on them. Bruno had a secret. If I didn't know him as I did, I wouldn't have recognized it. "Maybe I'm wrong," Stefano said in a low tone after a while before lowering his eyes in such a pitful way I almost felt sorry for him. He was in pain, I could tell with the way he raised his head, hands, or eyes.

When he finally managed to meet my gaze, he smiled, a spiteful smile, like we were enemies in a gambling den, and he held the ace card, which he didn't because I had Mia with me who was in this case, Stefano's ace. He didn't like me; in fact, he loathed me, his stare was full of so much hatred it would have scared a stronger man. But I wasn't scared. I had more enemies than I had friends, more strangers than acquaintances. It was the way it was. He was also not the only one wishing they could kill me at that moment, Paulie stood behind him in a combative stance shooting daggers at me. I knew they both hated me. But only Paulie's hatred was warranted. Stefano had no right to hate me. I was just a better human being than he was. I couldn't just stand by and let him sell an innocent nineteen-year-old in a world more loathsome than the devil's rumored hell.

"I'm sure this wasn't a meet up of staring at each other," I said insolently, kicking a pebble towards Bruno's direction. He shook his face earnestly as if he was passing me a secret message. I nodded, taking the cue to find it had the perfect outcome. Stefano cleared his throat nervously, which took a toll on him because sweat broke on his face, shifting on the chair while going through his jacket I assumed looking for a handkerchief. "You know why I called you here," he said in both as a question and a statement. He gazed at me in expectation, as if he wanted me to make it easier for him, but I didn't, I waited for him to spell it out. "You really are a bastard." He fumed, throwing me a resentful look. "I shrugged, staring at him with anticipation.

With all our eyes on him, he moved his head from side to side, avoiding to look at any of us on the face. I knew it wasn't because he was ashamed of what he was about to say, men like Stefano rarely felt shame, neither was it remorse, they didn't feel that one either.

"I'm ashamed of what I'm about to..."

"No, you're not." I boomed, interrupting what he was about to say. He could feel whatever the hell he wanted, but lying to me was unacceptable. "Don't insult us with a lie." The mood had drastically changed, with his men looking like they waited for some kind of signal. Stefano sat still without saying a word, staring at the ground, looking neglected, lonely, like a street kid who'd no idea where he would lay his head at night on a rainy day. His men had no idea what to do, to be honest, neither did I. He appeared weak, feeble. In normal circumstances, he was supposed to have named a successor by now, but to my knowledge, he didn't have a son; neither was he ever married. "There is something I don't understand," I began, shoving my hands in my pocket. "Why is it still so important to settle your debts when you're clearly on death's door?" Devonni groaned, then coughed out loud to suppress it, but I had already heard it. This boy had too much heart for this word; it could destroy him if he weren't careful. Stefano was gawking at me as if my question had surprised him. Did he actually expect sympathy from me?

"I mean, you don't even have children who could get the hit from your debtors." I wasn't mocking him or trying to make him feel bad; those were facts. I was just curious. I waited for an answer, but none was forthcoming because silence fell, bringing with it a murky mood that felt like I was being judged and found guilty, only Bruno remained unfazed, the rest had awkward looks. I didn't create death, and just because I mentioned it doesn't mean shit. It was ridiculous and hypocritical that these men would feel I had no empathy while they had no clear view of what morality was. I wondered if this was the same as being judged by the jury of my peers. "You know, I have heard a lot about you in the last couple of months." It was not exactly what I had expected to hear, but I rolled with it. "Most of what is said is mostly exaggerated." I snapped, rubbing my neck while we both stared at each other like we were in a competition.

"What is it you want from me, Stefano?" I was tired of standing and more so of the way he seemed to think he was in control of the meeting. "I thought we might come into an understanding." he sounded like it was more in my interest if we were to come into an agreement. I wasn't sure it wasn't in my best interest, the man was dying anyway. But to have come all this way in his condition meant he was as needy as I was. I threw another pebble at Bruno, and he grinned carelessly, still smocking, listening, and keeping his watchful eye on the tableau that was about to turn into a melodrama. "You're right, I'm dying, but I hate knowing I will die dishonorably." I burst out laughing, and so did Bruno, I wouldn't have stopped it, even if I wanted to. It was absurd. The man had lived his whole life dishonorably. "I'm sorry for laughing," I said although I wasn't. "Haven't you lived dishonorably?" He blinked as if I had spoken in a foreign language that he didn't understand. It dawned on me that he did not consider to have lived dishonorably. "I have lived honorably among my peers." I jerked up towards him in confusion, wondering whether I had gotten the meaning of the word wrong.

What was so ethical about his life? Had it lost his damn mind? But then it hit me, he was speaking of honor among thieves. That, I guess, is a concept I understood as well. "Let's talk business," I said, lifting my wrist to check the time. It was almost 6 pm. " I know the reason you called me here is because Silvio is missing, and you have no idea how to contact him, and your time is running out." He nodded without trying to deny it. "What is it you want?" I asked again. "I'm sure you know." He muttered in a low voice. It was so weak I complimented myself for having heard it. "I'm not sure I do." I refuted, starting to pace around. I felt like I was caged; this was taking longer than I expected. He was stalling, but the question was why.

Signaling Bruno to move, I hit Devonni's shoulder in a clear message that our business was done. "Where the hell are you going?" Stefano shouted, coming to his feet and then sitting back abruptly, probably of dizziness. "I don't have the time to stand here and play a guessing game like we are five or something." I retorted, without breaking a step. I knew one of them held a guy to my back without having to see it. It was instinct. A sixth sense that develops over time to warn of a coming danger or one that was already there.

"I'm asking for you to settle my debts, damn it!" The bitterness and the desperation in his voice unjustifiable. "Why the hell should I do that?" I asked in a calm voice looking at him before shifting my gaze at Paulie, who was holding a gun at me with a hateful stare in his eyes. It was a little dark, but I could see in the dark than anyone in my acquaintance. Without missing a bit, I withdrew my Glock shooting his from his hands and missing Stefano's head by a few inches. There was a collective sigh of relief like I intended to kill him. "Stefano, you're dying, the least you can do is tell the truth. And Paulie, the next time we meet, kill me before I kill you." As we walked to our car, I realized, Stefano through his evasion had given off one thing, whether he got my money or not, he intended to sell Mia out of spite. I wish I could have said confidently, that didn't scare me. But I was terrified.