Chapter Text
The rustling of loose paper was the only sound to stir the silence. Y/N flipped through the documents that lay neatly on her desk. Her eyes flicked over the deep blue ink scribbled across each page. Carefully, she memorized each word that had been printed before her, afraid of the consequences that would surely arise if she managed to forget.
With curtains drawn and her head buried deep in loose pages, she was lost in her studies. Memorize it. Do not forget the message, she told herself over and over again. Her body was rooted to the desk's wooden chair. She wouldn't move until she could rehearse each message fluidly.
It had been 8 p.m. when she took a seat in her bedroom to begin her work, and 11 pm when she got up to grab a drink of water. 3 am rolled around and Y/N still hadn't moved from her desk. Not even the erratic A/C unit in her tiny apartment could break the focus she forced herself into. The loud buzzing was drowned out by the blanket of concentration that she wrapped around her body and mind. But as the flow of memorization swept through Y/N in those early hours of the morning — when the birds were finally waking and when the sun slumbered at the bottom of the sky — a light buzzing coaxed Y/N out of her focus.
"I was just getting the hang of this", she groaned to herself. The buzzing continued as Y/N scrubbed at her tired eyes and willed herself to stand.
Reluctantly, she got out of her seat on stiff legs and moved from one end of her room to the other. Her silver flip phone — a prized possession — shook on its charging port by her bedroom's closed door. Someone was calling her, and it didn't appear to be anyone she knew. Snapping the phone from it's port and flipping open it's cool, metal face, NO CALLER ID flashed on the glowing screen as Y/N wrapped her aching fingers around the phone's silver body. She only knew of one person who might be bothering her at such an hour, but this mystery caller was not him — it was not Carlo. So, with practiced movements, Y/N set the phone back into its port and returned to her desk.
After letting the buzzing die out, and situating herself back into a state of focus, only a moment passed before the buzzing began once again.
And she ignored it. And once it stopped, she smiled. But no sooner did it begin to buzz again, and again, and again.
Y/N crossed the room in three strides, swiping up her phone with a scowl. With a flick of her wrist, the phone snapped open and no sooner was the cool metal receiver pressed into her ear. Y/N had serious work to do and coudln't focus with all of the noise. She was already falling into the arms of sleep and needed to get back to her documents as soon as she could, and this mystery caller was no help.
The call began with a soft click and Y/N wasted no time with formalities.
"Who is this? And why am I being called so late at night?" Y/N spoke firmly, tapping a slippered foot on her bedroom's black rug.
"So. . . You were ignoring my calls?" The caller said flattly, clearly not in the mood for Y/N's attitude.
Oh. No.
"O-oh! My deepest apologies sir. It was not my intention to ignore your calls. It was. . . Uhm, my phone hadn't been working! Your ID read as "Unknown" but I most definitely put you down as a contact in my phone. Please forgive me. S-so how may I be of aid this morning?" Y/N stammered. But in return, all she received was an eerie silecne.
. . .
Slowly, Y/N guided her legs back to her desk and sat, awaiting a response. Butterflies fluttered from within her stomach as a deafening silence rang through the other line of the call. She had screwed up bad by not answering the first time — let alone the second or third time around. This isn't going to end well . . .
Leaning across her desk, Y/N reached an arm and lifted the edge of her drawn curtains, peering out of her bedroom window and into the early morning sky. The apartment's entire courtyard had been swept away by darkness. Only the early morning birds occupied the vacant space. Y/N wondered why he would be calling at such an hour. He never called her this early.
"Get to the Port," the husky voice said starttling Y/N from her thought. "Make sure to wear something presentable. And husstle, would yuh?" With a click, the caller hung up.
Wasting no time at all, Y/N threw the phone onto her bed and began shoving all the loose papers from her desk into an empty drawer. Her fingers fumbled as she tried to keep the documents as neat as possible, but with the Boss requesting her presents, Y/N had little time to spare. She needed to get to the Port quickly. She didn't want to deal with the consequences of being tardy.
Leaky Eye Luca is what they called him. He was a mafioso; a criminal with a single leaking eye that made it look as though he was always on the brink of tears.
He was also the man that Y/N worked under — her Boss. The low-end mafioso promised Y/N that he would help her get rid of a nasty debt she owed to Passione - one of the biggest crime syndicates in all of Italy. But it wasn't until the first day of working with the greasy mobster that she found out exactly what he would be using her for. A Messenger.
The job required her to deliver information to the small-time criminals of Passione. The types of messages that couldn't be sent over the phone or through a letter. After hours of memorization, Y/N would have to deliver the crucial reports verbally, all across Napoli, Italy.
Y/N closed and locked the desk compartment, spinning on her heels to face a full closet. Digging her hands into the mass of different coloured fabrics, she began to search for anything that was remotely presentable. And after what felt like too long, she pulled out a pair of dark green dress pants and a matching jacket. This will have to do, Y/N thought as she made her way to the front door. Either this or my pyjamas.
A piece of buttered bread sat limply in Y/N's mouth as she grabbed the door's handle. A rush of cool air tickled her cheeks as she stepped into the hallway as she rushed into the common space. Though, as she made her way through the apartment's shaby hallway, Y/N couldn't help but feel nervous. Something that morning felt different. Something felt bizarre. This meeting had to be something important or else Luca wouldn't be spending his time dealing with Y/N. He never really liked her, but he did like the money she made for him.
Maybe, Y/N would finally get the chance to meet one of the higher-ups of Passione. The higher the rank, the more they'd pay for her messaging service; which ment the quicker she could get rid of her debt. And after her three weeks of working for Luca, she hadn't met a single man or woman that outranked her current Boss. It was strange that Y/N hadn't been introduced to any leaders. Maybe even deliberate.
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The drive to the Port was mellow. Y/N let the warm summer air roll through her car as she drove down quiet side roads and sleeping streets. The humid breeze ruffled her hair and tickled her flush skin. Summers in Italy were hot — day and night — and with the nervousness of being summoned so early in the morning, Y/N's formal wear clung to her skin.
Lined with shipping vessels and small boats, the port of Napoli was packed; even in the dead of night. Slowing her car, Y/N drifted past early-morning workers and flickering street lights. She didn't bother staring at any particular individual for too long. Instead, her eyes darted across the landscape, looking for anything suspicious or out of place. Paranoia struck the second her car cruised into the Port, and she had a gut feeling that it wouldn't be leaving her anytime soon.
Y/N pulled her car to a stop in an empyt lot facing the sea. She sat quietly, watching restless waves disappear into the sea. She wanted to close her eyes, wanted to embrace the rhythmic beating of cool water and let the warm breeze lull her to sleep. But she knew better than to relax. Mere seconds passed before the clicks of opening car doors sounded, followed by two aggressive slams. By the thick stench of cheap cologne and the faint smell of body odour, Y/N knew exactly who had entered her vehicle.
"To the city prison," Luca said before taking a breath from his lit cigarette. "And get moving, will yuh?"
Y/N eased her foot on the gas, circling the lot and driving back out of the port. She stayed closemouthed for the full forty-minute drive to the inner city prison of Napoli, and remained that way as the men in her back seats puffed on their cigarettes and squabbled with one another.
It was Luca with who she was familiar. The man with the brown hair cut closely to his scalp. With pants that sagged below his waist and a saggy red shirt that was far too big and too old to be worn. But his poor clothing choice and his lack of style were not what Luca was known for. It was his leaking eye. Always tear-struck no matter what mood he was in. Luca's right eye simply didn't stop leaking.
To Luca's right was a man the Y/N had only met once before. The rumours that swirled around his name made her glad of that. She would have preferred to stay clear of the mafioso as a whole, but with a heavy debt and no other options, Y/N had to sit tight and avoid his wandering stare.
Galstov Brutta. A lanky man with a drinking problem and an aggressive receding hairline. He was a supposed wife beater and a top-tier drug seller, making sales that no low-end thug of Passione could achieve as he could. His pink golf shirt was unbuttoned at his chest and sweat stains were plastered under his armpits. He wasn't the most attractive man, to say the least. And his poor hygiene and bad attitude only added to his case.
"Make sure to park a few blocks away from the prison," Luca sucked on the dwindling end of his cigarette as he spoke. "I don't want any cops seeing the car plates."
"Yessir." Pulling into an empty parking spot beside a vacant-looking apartment building, Y/N unbuckled her seatbelt and glanced back at the men who occupied her car's back seats.
"Do you need me to tell you how to get out of the car?" Luca bit out between clenched teeth. "Hustle Y/N, we're walking to the prison."
Stepping out and closing the door behind her, Y/N moved around the backside of the car to open the doors for her boss and his lackey. No thank yous were received, but dirty glances and side-eyes were shot in her direction.
Everything smelled like the sea. It was a beautiful night and a salty ocean tang filled the air. The heavy shuffling of Galstov's shoes was the only noise that came from the trio; no one spoke as they made their way down the quiet street to the city prison.
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The city prison was a round box of solid stone. No bars to look in and no bars to look out. The thugs who ended up in that pit didn't ever come out. Y/N swallowed thickly as the group made their way closer to the prison's front doors.
"Wait here, Galstov," Luca flicked his cigarette butt onto the sidewalk before drawing his eyes to Y/N. "And you, come with me."
Galstov's slender frame leaned against the rough stone wall. He smiled at Y/N, his yellowing teeth shown in the dark as his thin lips pulled up towards his eyes. He knew she was nervous. His ugly smile didn't help.
Following closely by Luca's side, the two moved past the iron gates of the prison and through the main office's sliding doors. Stepping into the brightly lit space, they were met with a line of police officers who didn't look all too pleased to be dealing with visitors so early in the morning.
Calmly, Luca approached the group of officers that stood before them. "We're here to visit Polpo. We're his niece and nephew." The lie rolled off his tongue as smooth as warm butter.
An officer with a strict posture and a furrowed brow looked the two visitors up and down before mumbling, "proceed through the security gate. No gifts can be given to or received from any inmates. If any officer deems your behaviour suspicious, you will be removed from the facility and detained immediately."
Y/N's heart quickened. She had no idea why Luca brought her to the prison. And she was too scared to ask.
After walking through a metal detector and being scanned from head to toe by several officers, Luca and Y/N walked down a vacant hallway. "Keep your eyes down and be respectful," Luca said quietly.
After entering the prison, Y/N noticed the drastic change in her boss's behaviour. No longer was he acting in his usual boisterous manner, but the young man had straightened his spine and softened his tone. He was an entirely different person.
The further they ventured into the prison, the darker it became. They walked on until Luca paused before a single empty cell. A wall of glass separated the hallway and the cell's interior. There was a mattress and a small fridge, but aside from the simple furniture, the room remained lifeless.
"You took your time getting here, didn't you, Leaky Eye Luca?" The voice that spoke was deep and unfamiliar. Seeming to come from all directions, Y/N was unsure of where to look, or even who to look at. The cell and hallway remained empty. Luca and herself were the only individuals to take up space.
"Apologies, Capo," Luca bowed his head deeply, signalling Y/N to do the same. "But we tried our best to get here as quickly as possible."
A husky laugh erupted from the empty cell. Y/N took a step back, distancing herself from the glass. She didn't know why she moved, but something in her head told her to stay away from that glass wall.
"Luca, who's in there?" Y/N breathed. But instead of an answer, she was met with another burst of laughter. A pale fear covered Luca's face. His hands trembled at his sides as he tried to keep his focus on the ground. Y/N had never seen him in such a state.
Without warning, the once motionless mattress began to move. It contorted into different shapes as the laughing continued. Y/N stared, too startled to take her eyes off of the spectacle in front of her.
"Your best isn't good enough, Luca." the mattress- no, the man spoke. In the once empty cell sat a mammoth of a human being; the same man that Luca had addressed as capo. Y/N was familiar with the term but never had the opportunity to meet someone who held the position of a mafia captain; a much higher rank than any of the low-end thugs she had encountered in the past three weeks she'd been working for Luca.
Clad in a yellow jumpsuit and a rather strange-looking red cap, the massive capo stared down at her. His eyes were a pit of blackness, and his nose billowed out from his skull at a sharp point. The capo sat contently in the center of the cell, trapped behind a sheet of glass, but with the man's sheer size, Y/N wouldn't be surprised if he could knock down the barrier with his monstrous form.
Deliberately, the capo removed his stare from Y/N and pointed his eyes towards Luca, setting his large hand on the food slot of the cell's iron door. She hadn't even noticed the small hole, but the second that the capo's fingers took up a place before the empty slot, she backed away for a second time.
"Luca, come close," the large man practically whispered. And without hesitation, Luca stepped towards the food slot. It took mere seconds for the capo to reach his thick fingers through the opening and wrap them around Luca's neck. In an instant, the small man was lifted off the ground and slammed against the cell's solid door.
"So you think you can hire outsiders to work under my nose? Do you think that you can get away with living a double life? Is that what this is?"
Luca tried to respond, but no words left his lips. Instead, he continued to kick his legs and pull at the large fingers that wrapped around his neck. Y/N began to shake, unsure of how she should act. But as clumsy as he looked, the capo seemed to take notice of her panicked behaviour.
"Luca, it seems that you've brought me a little office lady, all done up in such professional attire." The capo grinned and took a sharp breath before he continued. "You're too young to be stuck with an office job little girl. How old are you?"
"I'm nineteen, sir," Y/N replied in an instant, making sure to keep her eyes pointed at the floor.
"Please, young lady, call me Polpo. I'm one of Passione's capos. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"I'm Y/N."
"Oh, I know exactly who you are and what you've been doing with my itty bitty friend Luca here. Nothing in my city goes unnoticed. And no need to be so nervous. I'm a friend after all."
There was no way that Y/N could remotely pretend to be composed; her boss remained in the grasp of Polpo, who was a mattress only moments ago.
It had occurred to Y/N then that her work as a messenger might not have been as true as she once thought.
So that's why I never got to meet any of the higher-ups, she thought to herself. Luca never officiated me as a real mafioso. I was working outside of Passione.
Y/N felt her knees begin to buckle. She really didn't know why it mattered if she was or was not a ture member of the mafia, but clearly, it mattered to Polpo. Her heart and head told her to run but her feet remiend planted on the floor.
"Little girl, I'm going to tell you what's going to happen in the next few moments, do you understand?"
Y/N nodded quickly, keeping her gaze pointed towards her shoes. But when she heard a loud thud and Polpo clear his throat, she looked up to meet the capo's stare. His once soft features turned hard, and Luca lay sprawled on the floor, gasping for air.
"Has your mother not taught you to look at someone when they speak to you? You're being rather rude, wouldn't you agree?"
Y/N's eyes widened, but she stood her ground as she softly spoke, "You're right, sir. My apologies."
"Listen, because I'll only say this once." Polpo leaned in towards the glass as he spoke to Y/N, forcing her eyes to stay on his own.
"I've heard all about your little delivery service. And it appears that you're quite good at your job. So, I have a little task for you to complete. A small mission for you to carry out if you will." The capo's eyes pinned Y/N in place. A smile tugged at his lips as he spoke.
I need you to deliver a message to Passione's very own bodyguard squad." Y/N's full attention was on Polpo, her eyes unmoving and gaze intense. Her discomfort did not rise when the capo's smile grew, as she was too interested in the words he spoke.
"It will be your final message as an outsider of Passione. You won't be delivering any longer following this final request." Y/N sucked in a sharp breath but didn't interrupt Polpo. "Find Bucciarati. Tell him this."
A slip of paper flew through the food slot and landed neatly before Y/N's feet. Picking it up cautiously, she unfolded the piece of paper. In messy writing, Y/N made out a small message. "Traitors are lurking in the Pink Martini." That is what the note had scribbled across it.
Interrupting her focus on the message, Polpo spoke. "Bucciarati is one of my most trusted men. His team needs to receive the message and deal with the problem. Fail, and I'll have you and your little boss's heads for your acts of disobedience against Passione."
"Where can I find Mr. Bucciarati?" Y/N asked slowly.
"Libeccios. Everyone knows that's where he and his boys go for food." Luca had said, standing from the floor as he massaged his already bruising neck.
"Such an observant boy aren't you?" Polpo grinned at Luca as he moved his gaze back towards Y/N. "Well well, little rabbit. You should get hopping now. It's time for you to deliver your final message."
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After a rushed drive back to her apartment, Y/N removed her blazer and plopped herself into bed. She had offered to drive Luca and his lackey back to the port, but her boss claimed that he needed a drink and headed deeper into the city.
Kicking off her shoes and pants, Y/N lay sprawled on the mattress, thinking about the message. "Traitors are lurking in the Pink Martini." She couldn't figure out what the message could mean. How could a traitor be inside of a drink? Or was the Pink Martini being referred to in the message even a drink at all?
Still confused from the events of that early morning - namely the capo that had also been a mattress -Y/N closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep. It was going to be a busy afternoon in the next few hours. After all, the girl planned on interrupting some high-end mafiosos' lunch.
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The soft knocking of branches against her bedroom window had woken Y/N out of deep sleep. Brushing loose strands that stuck to the side of her face, Y/N sleepily sauntered her way out of bed and to the kitchen for a bite to eat.
A single piece of buttered bread is what she had eaten earlier that morning. And to no surprise, her stomach was not too pleased with the lack of nutrients it received. Taking a box of oats from her cupboard, Y/N glanced at the clock. 1:32 pm is what the time read as she poured the oats into a small blue bowl. "Wow," Y/N mumbled, "I'm surprised I didn't sleep any longer."
Dropping the box of oats on the floor and knocking over her bowl, Y/N twisted her body to face the clock for the second time. 1:32 pm. She was going to miss her opportunity to give Bucciarati the message. And if she managed to fail such a simple task. . . She didn't want to think about the consequences. Instead, she focused on finding a pair of pants as she hurried back to her bedroom.
Y/N slipped on a pair of navy jeans she had cut into shorts, a plain brown t-shirt, and a white baseball cap. She would've opted to have her hair down and styled, but the matted mess that laid on her head could not be fixed without a long soak and a deep cleanse.
Tossing her sneakers into the hallway, Y/N locked the apartment door and slipped on her shoes as she made her way down the stairs. Though Y/N had heard of the restaurant that the bodyguard squad had regularly frequented, she had never been to the place. So as she practically jumped into the front seat of the car, Y/N wondered to herself how she'd manage to find Bucciarati, let alone give him the message.
The car jolted towards the exit of the parking garage. A beam of sunlight shone in Y/N's direction, temporarily blinding her as it kissed her skin. The streets were busy but not jam-packed. Y/N slammed a foot on the gas and took off towards the restaurant. She crossed her fingers and hoped that today would be the day the bodyguard squad ate a late lunch.
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Y/N had been driving around aimlessly for over 10 minutes. She eventually pulled her car over and asked an elderly couple for directions, which she cursed herself for not doing earlier. The couple gave vague instructions on how to get to Libeccios, but Y/N was grateful for their help nonetheless.
It was 1:53 pm when she arrived. Hurrying out of the car, Y/N took in the rather simplistic appearance of the venue. No wonder she couldn't find the place. She had believed mobsters who were supposedly so high-end would be dining at some lavish bar with skimpy waitresses and free strip shows. But the building before her housed many hungry families and smiling staff. Not at all intimidating or what she imagined the establishment would be.
Running through the front doors, Y/N grabbed the sleeve of the first waiter she came across. The brown-eyed man nearly dropped his tray of drinks as she tugged on his uniform and forced him to meet her stare.
"I need to speak with Mr. Bucciarati right now. It's business related and very important. Is he here?"
"He is here-" Before the waiter could finish, Y/N took the tray from his hands and passed it on to an empty-handed blonde employee who had been walking by. She reluctantly took the tray as Y/N spun on her heels and rushed towards the brown-eyed man she had cut-off moments ago.
"Take me to him and his squad right now."
The waiter weaved in and out of tables, Y/N following closely behind. The restaurant, she learned, was very well decorated and had quite efficient staff. Suddenly, the waiter slowed his pace before turning a corner at the back of the dining room and clearing his throat.
"Gentlemen, please excuse my interruption, but Mr. Bucciarati has a visitor." Turning his head, the waiter signalled for Y/N to step into view of the men he had spoken to. Quickly, she stepped forwards and took in the group.
Teenagers. They were all teenagers. Looking back at the waiter, Y/N raised her brows in question, but the man only smiled and walked out of view. She had been sent to deliver a message to mobsters, not to a group of high schoolers who were currently shovelling strawberry cake into their mouths.
One of the four boys who sat at the dining table, the smallest of the group, finished chewing before he spoke. "Uh, who are you?"
His unprofessionalism caught Y/N off guard, but remembering the task at hand she straightened her spine and spoke in a frosty calm.
"Hello, gentlemen. I have been sent to speak with Mr. Bucciarati and-"
"Bucciarati isn't here, lady." The boy with a strange hat and what appeared to be bright orange zebra print pants spoke. He had cake smeared across his lips but didn't seem to mind as he took in another mouthful.
"Well, I need to give him a message."
"Then go on," the smallest boy spoke again, this time with a piece of strawberry in his mouth.
"I've been asked by the capo, Polpo, to relay this message to Bucciarati and his team. 'Traitors are lurking in the Pink Martini.'"
Suddenly, all eyes were on Y/N. The mood in the room seemed to change, turning darker and much more serious. Even the customers in the front of the restaurant seemed to cease their conversations. It was then that Y/N noticed the man in purple. His vibrant eyes lingered on her own as he took a sip from his teacup. He was the most intimidating out of the four boys, and probably the oldest, but something about his chilling demeanour sparked a curiosity in Y/N.
Setting his cup down softly, the man spoke. "You're not a part of Passione, are you?"
His voice was deep and set the hairs on Y/N's arms straight. Unable to think of a smart reply, Y/N let the words tumble from her mouth.
"You see, I'm not a member of Passione, but I've been tasked to deliver this message-"
He stood quickly, walking around the table and planting his feet directly in front of Y/N. He was tall. Tall enough to make the girl shrink down as he glowered at her. The scraping of wood sounded and Y/N knew that the other three mafioso had stood as well. To come to her aid or to stand by their friend? She didn't know.
"Polpo is a smart man. And smart men don't give away important information like that for free." His words were barely a whisper. He leaned in closer, strands of his long, lilac hair falling around his sharp features. "So tell me, where did a girl like you get information like that?"
"I'm telling you the truth sir, I-"
His hand launched forwards, slamming into the wall where Y/N now pressed her back. She didn't even realize that she had been walking backwards until the cool brick made contact with her skin. He opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could manage a single word, a stern voice boomed from behind.
"Enough! All of you bastards, sit down now!" The voice came from a man in a polka dot suit, with raven hair cut into a neat bob.
"My deepest apologies for their behaviour darling, I had to attend to a phone call. I am Bruno Bucciarati." With fluid grace, Bucciarati shook Y/N's hand as his team returned to their seats.
"Abbacchio, what the hell have I told you about waiting to interrogate people until I get back?" The lilac-haired man clicked his tongue and glanced up from his seat, mumbling a soft "sorry" before placing a set of red headphones over his ears, clearly done with socializing.
"Gentlemen, this young lady speaks the truth. She is Polpo's messenger. I just got off the phone with Leaky Eye Luca and he has confirmed her loyalty." Bucciarati held out a hand, and all eyes were on her again.
"So messenger, what has Polpo sent for us today?" Bucciarati asked gently, pulling out a chair for Y/N to take a seat.
"Traitors are lurking in the Pink Martini." She spoke the words for a second time.
With a single glance towards each of his boys, Bucciarati and his team stood. "Tell Polpo that his message has been received. We have a business to attend to."
And without looking back at her, the bodyguard squad left the restaurant.
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to be continued. . .