Shadows In Durango

Chapter 139

*****Sofia's POV*****

The house felt eerily quiet as the minutes dragged on. The soft drone of a reality show was playing in the background, but I couldn't even focus on it.

The artificial laughter and overdramatic arguments seemed absurd against the real life scenarios brewing in my own reality.

I sat on the edge of the couch, my hands clasped so tightly in my lap that my knuckles were pulsing white.

Vincent lounged beside me, with his arm draped over the back of the couch, pretending to watch the screen, though I knew he wasn't paying much attention to it either. His jaw was tense, his eyes darting toward the window every few seconds...

Vincent's father had been gone for a fair few hours now, off on some of his "errands" that apparently couldn't wait any longer.

Before he left, he had made a conscious effort to make arrangements for tomorrow - to bring them here for the 'meeting' to which they dreadfully agreed to...

I tried not to let myself think in to it too much since I knew that it would only cause an unnecessary panic attack so instead, I decided to attempt to go with the flow.

It was better that we do this tomorrow - get it over with - as opposed to procrastinating, right?

"This is bullshit - the show I mean! How are you feeling?" Vincent's voice broke through my spiraling thoughts as I turned to look up at him, finding his eyes settled on me.

"As okay as I can be," I replied quietly with a small shrug. "Time's running out, isn't it? I just need to roll with it and pray for a miracle..."

"How do you feel about tomorrow though? You seem far too... calm for my liking. Do you think you'll be able to handle seeing them after so long?" He tests, as I lift my left hand up to rub at my drying throat...

Tomorrow...

The day in which my father and brothers would walk through that door, and everything would hinge on whether we could sell this twisted plan to them or not.

luxury of failing anymore...

it? I'll just look more miserable to them, so I'm just telling myself that it's ok to fall apart when I see them..." I explain my reasoning, sounding as though I was trying to convince myself as opposed to

a decent way to look at it... but just know Sofia, that I'm proud of you, you know? For even agreeing to face them for the first time in a long time, that's major. I'll have your back with this right to the very end - trust me - I'm certainly not scared of them so neither should you be anymore!" Vincent's words are gentle, as my

and he'll have

Woah...

can think up a further response, a low rumble of an engine pulling up into the driveway shattered our valuable moment, as Vincent instantly twisted himself around to look out of the

getting a better look at the car, as I released a breath I hadn't been aware I

little to peak out of the cracks in the blinds

guessing to help with the makeup and shit..." He recites, as my

a moment later, the front door was heard opening,

unaware that we

heard and Vincent's father appears in the room with us first, his broad shoulders taking up most of the

a sleek black turtleneck and slim-fitting black trousers that screamed high-end fashion. "This," Vincent's father announced, stepping aside and gesturing toward the stranger, "is Sergio. He'll be taking care of the...

repeated in a breath, my stomach flipping as I glanced at the

makeup artists used for professional photoshoots or crime scene re-creations maybe... that would be more

Sergio's diminutive stature. He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze hard as he studied the man.

convincing. I've used him many times in the past - he knows what I get up to in my spare time, don't you pal?" He chuckles, as Sergio

"I understand that zis is more... delicate work, yes. But do not

A homeless dog?!

Really?!

I would have laughed out loud at how ridiculous his metaphor

of his hands, looking directly at me now as

first, but he gave me a small nod of encouragement. Reluctantly, I pushed myself up to my

stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied me with the intensity of an artist sizing up his subject as I squirmed under his sharp eye.

bony fingers were cold and clinical as he tilted my face toward the light, pressing lightly on my cheekbones and jawline with enough pressure to leave

he murmured, half to himself. "Small frame but zis is actually a good thing! Shall I say, za bruises will look more