For the very first time in 27 years, Lorenzo Bronte Devereux feared death. He was incredibly fusturated and his consciousness was blacking out every few minutes and it only got worse the more he moved. See, Lorenzo had been on a mission that should've been simple. Go to the ports, check on the goods, and go back home. It was somewhat something like an inventory and for once he went alone. He hadn't expected that his best friend, someone whom he considered a brother would have been a mole this entire time but when he saw the man at the port, pointing a weapon at him his blood ran cold. He was staring right down the barrel, his own, having jammed desire his quick reflexes. He tried to talk his best friend, Jacob out of it, and it somewhat worked, the man shot, but hesitated, and it hit. One in his side, the other near his collarbone, and it hurt like hell.

he had managed to get away in his car but Jacob had men with him and they had a clear objective of making sure that he was gone for good. Lorenzo barely made it out alive. He crashed his car, the tires having given out from the countless bullet holes in them, and the roads were slick with rain. Now he had to walk. He has lost the men but he was sure that they were close. He couldn't die, the mafia was doing well, his grandma, dad, and younger siblings were all waiting for him, and he simply wasn't ready to go. He doubt that he would live but he fought. He dragged himself along the walls of some dark ally way, making his way into some downtown low-income neighborhood. It was mostly empty, but he feared that it made him easier to spot. He kept going until he ended up in some random woods, and he could see a house, a person, alone walking in, and he limped his way over.

“You…the pin to my phone is 0918” He mumbled before fainting on the woman porch. Normally he wouldn't get innocents involved, but he couldn't help it, he didn't want to die. He would pay them back if they managed to hide him, and stay alive until one of his men came, and if so his men would bring them alone. He hoped that this place was secluded enough, and that they wouldn't think to find him here. He hoped that this person would be okay. He hoped that he didn't die here, like this, unprepared. He needed revenge. Jacob wouldn't live long if he survived.