Angelo woke up in the early morning still in the police precinct. However, he was thankfully being finally released due to no evidence of the murder. He stood in the release hallway that led into the parking lot, currently getting his hands uncuffed for the first time in what felt like all night.
Standing on the other side of a window with a little box, his clothes had been kept but he was being provided a hoodie for the early fall weather. It had the symbol of the police on its collarbone, but otherwise, just a normal grey hoodie to go with his normal grey shirt and his normal grey sweatpants. He had been provided sneakers, thank the gods, but they were maybe a little too big.
His phone and wallet were in the box with the provided hoodie, and he quickly put all his things away and slid on the hoodie before offering the box back. The woman took it and threw it in a pile for trash, and waved Angelo along. He walked through a buzzing gate door with a police officer on the other side who opened it, and Angelo exited through the second metal door into the parking lot.
Angelo closed his eyes to take a breath of fresh air, but unfortunately, there was the disgusting scent of cigarette smoke. He wrinkled his nose and opened his eyes, seeing that there was a familiar man standing to the right facing away from him. Sniffing and wiping his nose to try and faux the cigarette smoke away with the smell of his new hoodie, the man turned.
Dante looked at him as if he was surprised to see him. He flicked his cigarette's ash onto the ground and took one last drag before dropping it and stomping it out. Then he turned to Angelo, taking a breath and sighing.
"Really letting you walk free, huh?" He mused.
Angelo, though disgusted by that habit under his boot, raised his hands to sign – but Dante quickly shook his head and waved him off. "Sorry – I only know basics. Dropped out because I already had all my credits."
Angelo lowered his hands, looking away. He was almost happy to find some random civilian – who happened to be a cop, he supposed – to know sign language in this shitty city, but those dreams were crushed. Dante rubbed the back of his head, hesitating.
"Look." He started. "I don't know you, but I know that look on your face. You don't want to go back to wherever you came from."
Dante didn't move on with that sentence, he just ripped Angelo a new asshole of philosophy and expected him to have a normal response. A response that didn't require sign language? Angelo didn't answer. What was he supposed to answer?
"Do you want a ride?" Dante asked. "I'll take you anywhere you wanna go."
Angelo looked at him strangely, kinda like…
"I know," Dante laughed. "Why am I offering a guy who just got released for being a not-possible murderer? I got no idea."
He grinned, and Angelo felt his heart do a little flip of anxiety. How had this guy read him so well? It was a little unnerving, to be read about as well as Jose might read him. Dante simply shrugged.
"Want a ride?" He asked again.
Angelo stared at him a little longer, then simply shook his head. If he showed up at his father's mansion in a detective's car, not only was he immediately deemed suspicious, that cop was likely going to be dead in the next five hours.
"Alright," Dante said. "Suit yourself, ghost."
The detective began to walk away, and Angelo was a little confused. Ghost? That was a weird nickname, but… it was better than Blaze.
(¯`·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸¸.-> 🖋 <-.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸¸.·´¯)
It was late that morning when he arrived at the Kuron Estate mansion his father's home and Angelo's prison cell. He walked straight through the main hall, and the guards stepped away from the entrance. One of them opened a door, and the other gave a chilling announcement.
"The Don demands your presence in his office."
The air felt colder as Angelo walked in, becoming devastatingly chilly. He didn't like how the whole place stared at him, at that logo on his sweater, giving suspicious glares and others laughing behind covered mouths. The don's son being caught by the police? Either it was a ridiculous mistake, or Angelo was bullshitting all of them and rubbing it in their faces. There was no inBetween with these people.
Once Angelo made it to the office, he gave two hard raps for knocks. He felt the backside of his ears grow warm, like he was sweating. Had Jazelle already given him up? Did everyone know how much of a coward he was? Was Jazelle in there right now, waiting to give him up in front of his father? He didn't know, and that was terrifying.
"Come in, Blaze."
His father's voice resonated off of the walls, and Angelo didn't like that it was already known that it was him. He didn't try to take a deep breath before entering, as there were two bodyguard outside the door, so he just stepped inside and hoped for the best internally.
His father was already standing, facing the long three panel windows that were his view of the city below. It wasn't high, but it was enough to make him feel powerful amongst his prey. At least, that's what Angelo thought he would feel like, staring at all the lesser people than him and smiling like a deranged weasel. The thought almost made him snicker, but he quickly wrapped up his poor sense of humour.
"You got caught."
Angelo didn't answer as he closed the door and stood in the centre of the room in front of the Don's desk. He kept his head down, waiting as the tall but plump man slowly turned and rounded the desk. Angelo couldn't make out if he was all muscle underneath his suit, or if it was just fluff. Either way, he knew not to try and underestimate him.
"You know what that makes you look like?" He mused, walking towards him. "Sloppy. Soft. Like you've never worn blood before."
He hated that phrasing. Did his father know that he didn't kill that man? Had he known all along that he hadn't killed anybody? Was he playing the long game, and this was finally the end? He stopped in front of Angelo, and Angelo had to clench his fists to keep from shaking, and pray that it wasn't noticeable.
"You're my heir," Lorenzo said coldly. "And you made me look soft."
The word was spoken like a muffled gunshot, like putting a pillow on someone's head and firing to silence their useless screams. Angelo hated that he felt weak right now, that he felt open and vulnerable for killing. Lorenzo grabbed his chin, forcing it up – his grip was loose, but threatening. Like it was going to aim for his throat next.
"Did you kill the target?" His father demanded.
Angelo managed a nod, trying to keep his expression flat. He was scared, but he couldn't show that. Even just a fraction of it slipping through his guard would make his father snap, yell, break him. He had to act the part, or suffer the consequences.
"Good." Lorenzo said.
There was no warmth in his voice, but instead just cold satisfaction. He glared into Angelo's eyes for a moment longer, but then he let go of his chin. Lorenzo brushed his fingers together like he was disgusted with his choice in touching Angelo, and he sneered and leaned away.
"Now go get cleaned up." He said, voice chilling. "You smell like pigs and government carpets."
Angelo turned away, and the Don let him. Lorenzo crossed the room and picked up a glass, pouring himself whiskey. Angelo would out of the room by then with his own choices, but if he went too fast, Lorenzo would have caught on to his fear. So before he even reached the door, the Don called out to him.
"Oh, and Blaze?" He said, and Angelo stopped. "If anyone asks," He raised his glass of whiskey. "Tell them you were gathering intel."