Chapter Eight

After meeting Narancia in the kitchen and hearing that Bucciarati was awake, Abbacchio made his way upstairs to see if he needed anything and to check in on Maria.

However, Maria's door was cracked and he could hear them talking from inside. Abbacchio lingered, not wanting to eavesdrop and was about to go back downstairs when he caught Bruno's voice, using the tense, strained tone he applied to conversations where he was trying to keep his emotions in check.

"Perhaps…it's better if you return to calling me Bucciarati. I'm sorry if I caused any misunderstanding, but this really is no life for someone like you."

Abbacchio paused, brow furrowing. What the hell was he on about?

"D-don't go," Maria called in a quiet, strained voice. "Bru—Bucciarati…!"

Footsteps preceded the door being yanked open, as Bucciarati pushed his way out of the room, nearly bumping into Abbacchio, but not seeming to even register he was there, ignoring him completely as he closed the door behind him.

Abbacchio wasn't having that today. They had way too many other things to worry about than this shit.

"Hey," Abbacchio snapped as Bruno made to go right past him. "What the hell was that?"

Bucciarati ignored him, heading toward the stairs.

"Bruno!"

"Leave me alone!" Bruno snapped. "This doesn't concern you!"

"Doesn't…" Abbacchio was down the stairs in a second, blocking his path with an arm against the bannister. The other man brought his Stand out obviously to escape that way, but Abbacchio grabbed his shoulder. "Bruno, please. Stop for just a second."

Bruno's head was ducked away from him, his hair concealing his face, but not before Abbacchio could see the gritted teeth and the sheen of wetness sliding down his cheek. "Please stop. I don't want to do this right now."

"Oh, so you're the only one who gets to call out people for their mistakes?" Abbacchio snapped.

Bruno finally whirled around, fists clenched. "Mistakes? If you were going to do that, you should have stopped me sooner! I know I made mistakes. I never should have gotten her involved with me!"

"She loves you!"

"Yes, and I foolishly reciprocated and now look what happened to her!" Bruno shouted before he let out a hitching breath and sank down onto one of the steps, arms limp on top of his knees. "I could have gotten her killed. And all because she associated with me." He buried his face in his hands.

Abbacchio carefully sat down next to him, shoulders and knees touching, hoping to provide some sort of comforting presence. "Yeah, okay, she got into a little trouble—to save you, I might add—because she cared about you. Bruno, it could have happened anyway, and you might not have been there. Do you think Marcello would have left her alone if she had never thought to come to us? Think about how she feels having this as thanks that she saved your life! You can't just make these decisions for her; hell, she really loves you, you damn idiot!"

"I know," Bruno's breath hitched. "But should she be doomed because of that?"

Abbacchio rolled his eyes heavily, tempted just to throttle his friend, but instead he took a deep breath to steady himself before he continued. "Bruno. You've given me a lot of good advice over the years, so let me return the favor. You don't let people go who love you like that. Especially, to keep them safe. Because half the time, it just doesn't work anyway."

"This life…" Bruno said. "It's takes everything. I couldn't put her in that position. She would be such a target…"

"And we would all look after her!" Abbacchio insisted. "God, Bruno, the kids love her, you think they'd let anything happen to her even if you couldn't be around? And you know I'd die for you, you think my opinion would change for the woman you love?" Bruno looked away again. "She makes you happy, Bruno." He said finally.

Bruno looked up at him, eyes still wet. "I can be happy with my famiglia. I have been for a long time now."

"Not like that," Abbacchio said quietly and smiled. "You know I'm not sappy, but holy hell, the way you act when you're around her…it's kinda sickening, but in a good way. You can't know what you look like, but I don't think I could more aptly describe a man more content."

Bruno reached up and scrubbed a hand across his eyes. Abbacchio reached over and squeezed his shoulder. "We all just want you to be happy. You deserve it."

"I don't know why," Bruno whispered.

Abbacchio huffed. "If you don't believe that, then at least admit that she deserves it."

"You think she deserves to die?"

"You can't make that decision for her, Bruno," Abbacchio told him firmly. "I mean it. She has the right to choose. To choose you."

Bruno slumped further until he finally thunked his head down against Abbacchio's shoulder. "I'm an idiot," he murmured.

Abbacchio huffed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, patting his arm. "Yeah, but you're our idiot. That's why you have me here to help you see reason."

"I love her," Bruno whispered sincerely.

"I know you do. Tell her that."

They sat like that for a long second before Bruno sighed and pushed himself upright, scrubbing at his eyes. "However, my feelings do not negate the fact that she is in trouble and Marcello is likely going to try something even more desperate soon. It was lucky that we got away from him last night, but his next move will undoubtedly be more focused."

"And we'll be ready for him," Abbacchio assured him. "But after this is over, you need to promise me you'll figure this out with Maria. Because this indecision is not helping anyone and it's messing with your head."

"I know."

"Abbacchio!"

Giorno's voice preceded his footsteps hurrying from the direction of the office as Fugo and Mista could be heard talking in the background.

Abbacchio glanced over at Bucciarati and they both stood, heading toward Giorno as he appeared.

"Oh, good, you're awake, Bucciarati," he said a little breathlessly. "We just got a call. From Marcello."

Bruno felt his chest squeeze slightly. "What did he say?"

"That we need to either return the drugs or pay for them, otherwise he's going to start burning down businesses under our protection."

Abbacchio cursed and could see the fury rise in Bruno, flashing in his blue eyes, making them stormy.

"Is he," Bucciarati said darkly. "And exactly when does he expect this payment?"

"He provided a time and location for a drop," Giorno said. "And wanted you to go alone, of course."

"Of course," Abbacchio grunted, folding his arms over his chest and glancing at Bucciarati. "So, what's your call?"

"Go to the drop," Bucciarati said firmly.

"But it's obviously a trap," Giorno protested.

"We probably won't get another chance to have Marcello out in the open like this," Bucciarati told them. "And considering that I doubt he'll be following the rules himself, I see no reason why we have to."

Giorno nodded in agreement. "If you bring Narancia and Mista they can hang back and provide back up when it's inevitably needed."

"Exactly," Bucciarati replied. "However, if this goes wrong, there's going to be fallout, and I want Maria out of the city."

Abbacchio nodded in agreement, and, as much as he hated leaving Bucciarati's side at a time like this, he knew that this was the only thing that would allow his friend to focus and hopefully not get himself killed. "I'll take her to a safehouse until we know what's going on."

Bruno looked over at him gratefully. "Thank you, Abbacchio."

"And what about the money?" Giorno asked.

"Make it look convincing," Bruno told him. "I'm not planning on giving him a chance to count it."

Giorno nodded. "Drop is in two hours so we should probably get to work."

Bucciarati nodded and turned to Abbacchio. "Can you tell Maria?" he asked. "I want you to start out as soon as possible."

Abbacchio refrained from sighing. Usually he would prefer Bruno do his own dirty work, but there was no time for more arguing right now. He nodded and headed up the stairs.

There were quiet voices coming from inside the room and he knocked softly.

"Who is it?" Trish demanded sharply.

"It's me," Abbacchio said and opened the door. "Sorry, but things have come up. Maria, we need to get you out of the city."

Trish was sitting on the bed with her arms around the other woman, and glowered at Abbacchio. "If he doesn't want her here anymore, he can tell her to her face!"

Abbacchio pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly. "This isn't about Bucciarati, Trish, Marcello has called us with an ultimatum and we can't let him have any opportunity for leverage. Maria, you understand you're in danger here. You'll help all of us by being safe."

Trish squeezed her shoulder gently as Maria nodded, reaching up to wipe at damp eyes. "I understand."

"All right. Trish can you help her pack some stuff for a couple days?"

Trish nodded and got off the bed, going to grab Maria's suitcase from her closet.

Abbacchio went over to the bed, and offered a hand as Maria scooted toward the side. "How are your injuries?"

"Just a little sore," she said. "Giorno did a good job."

"I'm sorry we have to drag you out of here when you're not even fully recovered."

Maria sighed. "Nothing we can really do about it. It's probably for the best anyway."

The last was said quietly, and Abbacchio sighed. "Maria, I know Bruno didn't want to hurt you, he just gets it into his head sometimes that he's doing the right thing, especially when it comes to protecting people, and he doesn't always consider anything but their safety."

Maria looked away, wrapping her arms around herself. "I just wish he wouldn't take it so hard. It was my choice to save him. Why can't he realize that other people don't want to see him hurt either?"

Abbacchio laughed wryly. "I have been trying to hammer that concept into his head for years, cara. That's just Bruno. He's a self-sacrificing idiot, but he has a true heart of gold. Just give him a little time. When this is over, there's a good chance you can get through his thick skull."

Maria sighed and Abbacchio pulled her in for a brief hug, rubbing her back. "Come on, let me grab your coat for you."

Trish finished packing Maria's bag and Abbacchio took it as they headed downstairs.

The others were all gathered as Bucciarati was discussing plans. He and Maria caught each other's eyes briefly before they looked away.

"We're ready to go," Abbacchio informed.

"Good," Bucciarati replied and then glanced at Giorno. "Giorno, I want you to go with them."

The blonde's eyes widened. "But don't you need me here?"

"I only need Mista and Narancia to go to the drop and Fugo can stay here to keep an eye on the phones," Bruno said. "I would feel better if there were two of you going, please."

Giorno glanced between him and Maria and nodded. "Of course."

"Thank you."

Abbacchio motioned to Giorno. "Let's get going."

Giorno nodded and hurried off toward the car. As Abbacchio ushered Maria ahead of him, he caught Bruno taking a step forward before he schooled his expression as Maria followed Giorno out the door.

Abbacchio gave Bucciarati a look, maybe with a little bit of pity. "I'll keep her safe," he assured him.

Bruno's shoulders slumped but he nodded reluctantly.

"Be careful," Abbacchio reminded him.

"You too."

He headed out to the car and started off toward the safehouse. He really hoped this would be the end of this business with Marcello because he was frankly tired of it.

Bruno hefted the bag of decoy money as he stood by the car near the designated drop, waiting for Marcello to show up.

"Anything?" he murmured.

"Nothing on my end," Mista's voice crackled through the earbud.

"I'm not seeing anything either," Narancia said.

Bruno looked around, checking the time again. There were still a couple minutes, yet…it was a little odd that there didn't even seem to be anyone nearby.

"Hold on, I have something now," Narancia called. "A car just stopped a couple blocks away and let out three guys. Now it's coming to your position."

Bruno narrowed his eyes. And there was the trap he had suspected. "Keep an eye on them."

"I can rout them if you want," Mista said.

"No, you stay in your current position in case anyone comes from that direction. I want Narancia on the others."

"Will do," Narancia said as Bruno watched the car pull up slowly on the opposite side of the street from him. He reached up to make sure his earbud was hidden by his hair and watched the car door open.

However, it wasn't Marcello who got out, but his second, Nicola.

Bruno straightened, a bit surprised. The man met his eyes as he crossed the street.

"You're early, that's admirable," Nicola commented.

"I want to get this done with as soon as possible," Bruno told him. "Where's Marcello."

"Tied up with other business," Nicola said in a way that had Bruno feeling rather wary.

He kept the feeling off his face though, and held up the bag. "I have the money. But you do realize that this comes with the warning to stay out of my territory unless you want further trouble."

Nicola gave a slimy smile. "That's Marcello's call, but I'll relay the message to him all the same."

Bruno pressed his lips together in annoyance and took a step forward, holding up the bag.

Nicola approached as well, both of them going slow and cautiously, Bruno listening for either Mista or Narancia to call a warning.

He dropped the bag at Nicola's feet a few inches in front of his shoes. "It's all there," he said, unnecessarily.

Nicola gave him a look. "I suppose you don't mind if I count it?"

Bruno grunted and the man knelt, opening the bag.

Frogs jumped out, one landing straight on his face.

"Gah!" Nicola shouted in surprise, stumbling backward.

Bruno saw his Stand appear in an instant and already had Sticky Fingers ready, his Stand raising his arms to deflect Nicola's projectile discs.

"Narancia," he called as he dove out of the way of another attack.

"Already on it," the teen replied and there was the sound of distant gunfire, followed by surprised screams.

"You bastard!" Nicola shouted as he finally recovered and stood, his Stand at his shoulder as he shot more projectiles at Bruno.

Bruno dove behind the car, jolting his healing injuries from last night, several discs slamming into the wall of the building behind him.

"Bucciarati!" Mista shouted as he ran up, taking a shot at Nicola.

The man yelped, spinning as the bullet hit him in the shoulder. Nicola sent another volley of discs at Mista, forcing him to have to dive behind the car with Bruno.

Nicola seemed to see he was outnumbered and staggered back to his car and started to speed off before either of them could attack again.

Mista leapt up and shot at his retreating car, shattering the back window, but it squealed around a corner before the gunman was able to take out a tire.

"Dammit," he snapped, lowering his gun.

Bruno was up, looking around for any sign of more enemies. "Narancia?" he asked.

"I got all the goons, but I wasn't able to stop Nicola either," the boy's voice came through the earbud.

"Come back to the car," Bruno replied warily.

Mista continued to look around as Bruno turned to the bag and closed it back up, the frogs having turned back to money now that they had served their purpose.

"Something about this isn't right," Mista said. "Don't you think it was a little too easy?"

"Marcello isn't exactly a mastermind," Bruno commented. "But, I agree. I can't help but feel there is something we were missing here."

He glanced around again. What it was, he didn't know, but he had an increasingly bad feeling.

The car was silent as Abbacchio drove toward the safehouse. Maria was simply staring out the window, and Abbacchio again cursed Bruno for making trouble right before they had to deal with Marcello head-to-head. He could deal with the mission stress easily enough, but more delicate affaires were never his strong suit.

He glanced in the rearview mirror at Giorno who was keeping an eye out for any tails.

"See anything suspicious?" he asked.

Giorno shook his head. "No. Not yet." He glanced behind them again. "I have my suspicions about the drop. There was just something about…"

"Yeah, me too," Abbacchio muttered. "But Bucciarati has Mista and Narancia with him. They'll make sure no one jumps him."

Maria shuddered and hunched closer to the window. Abbacchio bit his tongue. "Don't worry, Maria. This will be over soon. You won't have to be in hiding for long and then you can work on rebuilding your business."

She nodded but still didn't say anything. Abbacchio clenched his jaw. He really wished he was better with words. He tried, but the awkwardness of the situation just made everything worse. It wasn't like Giorno was any help. The kid might be a smooth talker, but he wasn't the best at understanding the nuances of human emotion. His go-to was usually turning stuff into small animals and bugs. He almost wished Trish were here.

"Abbacchio!"

Giorno's shout pierced his ears seconds before he saw the car barreling toward them, obviously intentionally trying to hit them.

Abbacchio hit the brakes, as his arm instinctively shot out, barring across Maria's chest on impact, slamming her back into the seat. He summoned Moody Blues to cover her with his body as the horrific crunch of metal rang out, throwing them all forward. Abbacchio's chest slammed into the steering wheel and his head slammed into the window as the car spun, glass cracking, making him see stars, trapped between the pain from his own impact and the shared impact Moody Blues took for Maria.

He must have blacked out for a brief second because the next thing he realized was that they had come to a stop against a road barrier and there was shouting.

"Giorno!" he croaked, chest and head aching from impact as he forced himself up straight.

There was no answer.

"Giorno?!" Maria's shrill cry sounded and Abbacchio finally blinked enough blood from his eyes to glance back, seeing the teen sprawled in the back footwell, crumpled and bloody, covered in glass shards from the broken windows.

"Shit," Abbacchio growled, reaching back to shake him awake, but to no avail. He unbuckled his seatbelt and did the same to Maria's. A quick glance told him the enemy was already approaching. He could see Marcello getting out of the only mildly damaged car. They had to get out of here now.

"Come on," Abbacchio gasped, grabbing Maria's shoulder and hauling her out of the car on his side. "Can you walk?"

"Giorno," she nearly pleaded. "We can't leave him…"

"I need to get you to safety first," Abbacchio forced out, sickened by the thought, but Giorno would agree with him. Besides, the kid would be okay. His Stand would heal him. That's what he had to tell himself anyway.

Maria sobbed and Abbacchio practically carried her out of the car, staggering off the road. He had no clue where he was going but anywhere they could hole up, hold these bastards off, would be better than nothing.

"Leone Abbacchio,"

Obviously, they weren't fast enough. A figure appeared in front of them, forcing Abbacchio to halt.

"Get out of the way, Marcello," Abbacchio growled, positioning himself in front of Maria as he tried not to sway too much. Maria clung to him, pressed to his back, hands clenched in his shirt.

Marcello smirked at the undoubtedly pitiful picture they made. "Are you really going to make me take her from you? A stiff wind could knock you over right now."

Abbacchio spat some blood out of his mouth from where his teeth had cut into his cheek. He reached up to wipe his mouth and cringed as the blood smeared in his lipstick. "If that's what makes you feel better, come get her, stronzo."

Marcello snorted, and his Stand began to appear, the second Abbacchio felt his feet beginning to sink into the ground, he reached for his gun and shot.

Marcello barely reverted his Stand's power to defending himself, the bullet hitting his barrier and slamming him back several feet.

"Go!" Abbacchio shouted at Maria, shoving her in front of him as he brought up the rear, taking another shot over his shoulder.

He could see Marcello's goons approaching though, and spun to shoot at them, taking one out before something slammed into his face.

Abbacchio dropped, blinking up dazedly at a road sign that had seemed to melt into rubber, flinging itself toward Maria's retreating figure.

"Maria!" Abbacchio shouted, pushing himself up as he summoned Moody Blues.

Maria screamed as the liquid sign wrapped around her, and hauled her off her feet, keeping her pinned, hovering several inches off the ground. "Ab-Abbacchio!"

Abbacchio shouted and used Moody Blues to kick at the sign, but it only bent and molded with every hit.

"You really think you're going to get away?" Marcello asked, sounding both amused and annoyed. "Abbacchio…always the overachiever—at least when it comes to Bucciarati. What would you do if you didn't have his shoes to lick?" He kicked Abbacchio under the chin before he could fully climb to his feet, and sent him sprawling again, skidding across the asphalt on his injured ribs. He gasped, but sent Moody Blues over to send a roundhouse kick at Marcello.

Marcello mostly ducked, but the kick hit him in the shoulder, pushing him back a couple steps at least. Abbacchio hauled himself to his feet again and limped over to Maria, positioning himself in front of her, aiming his gun at the goons who were slowly surrounding them.

"Get the hell back," he snarled as one got too close to Maria who was still trapped by the sign.

"You still think you can win?" Marcello mocked. "Hilarious."

He motioned to his men and they rushed Abbacchio. He shot one in the leg, and got several punches in on the other before someone kicked him in his injured ribs and he gasped, collapsing to his knees. They piled on, but he shouted, throwing Moody Blues at them long enough for him to stand up.

Of course, by then, Marcello had come up behind him, and grabbed Maria.

"Abbacchio!" she cried and he spun around, allowing one of the men to grab him in a headlock. He felt his feet start to sink into the ground as Marcello was attempting to trap him again. Where the hell was Giorno? Surely the kid had to be awake by now?

"Let her go," Abbacchio snarled, jerking at his feet and nearly falling as the goons left his side, going to grab Maria from Marcello, binding her hands behind her back as she struggled. "You have no idea what hell you're about to rain down on your head."

Marcello gave him a longsuffering look as he reached into his coat. "I didn't want to have to do this, Abbacchio, but you leave me little choice. I certainly can't have you following me."

Abbacchio reached for his gun and realized he must have lost it in the fight. He took an awkward dive for it but it was already too late.

Two shots rang out and agony slammed through him as he felt the bullets impact in his chest and stomach.

Maria's scream cut through the echo of the gunshot, as Abbacchio slammed into the ground.

"Get her in the car, let's go," Marcello said.

"No! Abbacchio!" Maria screamed, trying to keep them from dragging her away, but one of the goons simply slung her over his shoulder and kept going, even as she kicked him.

Abbacchio blinked, gasping for breath which felt too wet. He choked, blood bubbling from his throat. Oh god, he was dying again…choking on his own blood. And he couldn't even sit up. He couldn't do anything as he lay there on the side of the road, watching them drag Maria away.

He had failed.

Some urgency kicked through his head as he fumbled clumsy hands into his pocket, grabbing his phone, hitting the speed dial.

If Bucciarati wasn't also dead or dying, maybe he would get the call.