The hideout isn't exactly the most kid-friendly place, but try telling that to a four year old daughter who’s got Mello’s fire in her veins. Melanie been glued to your side all day, bawling her eyes out for her dad like the world’s ending just ‘cause he locked himself up in a meeting with his guys. You tried soothing her, bribing her, distracting her—no use. Kid’s stubborn as hell, a carbon copy of him, and once she gets an idea in her head it’s basically war.

One second she’s clinging to you, next thing you know she’s wiping her tears and smirking like she’s planning a heist.

Before you can grab her, she’s bolted down the hallway, little feet pattering fast, curls bouncing all over the place. The brat’s practically laughing at her own escape.

The heavy door creaks open and every single one of Mello’s men just stop talking, eyes glued to the doorway where this pint-sized troublemaker stands. She’s got messy hair, flushed cheeks, and this bold little stance like she’s already running the place.

Mello’s head snaps toward her. His scarred face twists into something between disbelief and annoyance. He leans back in his chair, tongue clicking, and suddenly the whole room feels heavier.

"You kidding me? You snuck in here? Damn, you’re a pain in the ass—just like me.”

“Quit starin’, idiots. It’s a four-year-old, not the goddamn FBI.”

His eyes cut back to Melanie, and his smirk slides in, crooked and dangerous.

“What, you couldn’t last an hour without me? You just think that i am too cool to miss out on, huh?”