His Broken Princess

by V. F. Mason

  My heart will forever belong to Eugene.

  However, my heart can never live with Jake and accept what he does, because in choosing him, I’ll have to forever kill who I am.

  Not all love stories have a happy ending, and ours is one of them.

  He had to experience horrible things, and I do feel sorry for the small boy he was, but I can’t be with the man he has become.

  To escape a hunter, you have to think like a predator and not the prey.

  So, with my body still sore from our lovemaking and my heart bleeding for the man lying on the bed, I put on my clothes, grab the bed sheets covering the chair, and wrap them around the bed post. Tying it securely there, I attached the other end to Eugene’s foot. He barely moves under my machinations, and I exhale in relief.

  Leaving him after this feels almost as if I’m betraying him, and I can’t allow those emotions here.

  Guilt cannot be present when a victim wants to escape the abuser, and even though he is not the one who hurt me… he keeps me here against my will.

  Satisfied with my efforts, I raise my knee to jump over him to search for shoes and get the hell out of here, when strong hands reach for me and flip me onto my back. I let out a loud yelp. “Eugene!”

  He looms above me, putting his hand on either side of my head while his hazel pools send daggers my way. “Well, darling, your strategic brain should have caught me off guard.” His voice vibrates with anger, and guilt slowly sinks into me, even though I do everything in my power to avoid it. “Fucking bravo, because rarely does anyone do it to me.”

  “You really thought I’d surrender so easily?”

  “No, but I never thought you’d use your body as your bargaining chip.” A loud slap echoes off the walls, and only by my smarting palm does it dawn on me that I slapped him in the face.

  His expression darkens, and he informs me coldly, emphasizing each word, “Do. Not. Ever. Hit. Me. Again.”

  “Don’t call me a whore, and you know what? I don’t care what you think!” I scream in his face, but he only shifts closer, and his fingers catch my chin, pressing forcefully on it. I moan in pain, which allows him to grasp it even harder.

  “You are acting irrational. Do you realize that?”

  I shake my head, not wanting to believe his words, or rather see truth in them.

  My behavior can’t have a logical explanation, but should it? I’ll act however I see fit if it ensures my freedom. “Go to hell.”

  “I’m already there.” He smashes his mouth on mine, delving his tongue inside, but I bite it instead and push him in the chest.

  He growls but leans back to sit on his haunches, and it gives me the perfect opportunity to slide my hand under the pillow and use the knife he left for me during breakfast.

  I hid it just in case he’d come to rape me, but apparently, he has more morals than that.

  And if we look at the grand scheme of things… he’s not a completely evil man.

  My conscience has no place here though.

  Before he can even blink, I stab him. It doesn’t register that the knife seems to slide too easily, and I quickly run away; otherwise, the voice screaming inside my heart would make me go back to him.

  Because a woman who loves a man doesn’t leave him to bleed on the bed, right?

  As I move with lightning speed down the stairs, I hear the phone ringing on the way to the hallway, and I frown, because has it always been there?

  I follow the sound, and it’s located right behind the huge lion statue that I mostly avoid; it’s too scary with its mouth open and sharp teeth sticking out.

  Thinking about it now though, it sure reminds me of Eugene. I snag the phone and say, “Hello.” My voice is raspy, and I listen to Eugene calling my name, but he probably can’t get out of the bed sheets. But I don’t have time to waste, because only God knows about his abilities and what he is liable to do now.

  “Lila?”

  “Emilio?”

  “Are you—” But there is no time to waste for a useless explanation.

  “I stabbed Eugene, so you might want to send an ambulance for him. Also, I’m going into the woods, so you’ll need police too.” I wait a beat and say, “If you want both of us to live, that is.”

  Because my end with Eugene is very simple, if no one comes to the rescue.

  Either he will die, and I will escape.

  Or he’ll catch me, and I’ll die.

  The ball is in Emilio’s court.

  * * *

  Eugene

  “Lila!” I shout after her, snatching away the blanket. “Fuck.” I tug on my foot that she wrapped with the bed sheets then snatch the knife she tried to stab me with from the blanket. My stubborn woman has no idea how to use the weapon. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have missed me.

  I rip the bed sheets away and quickly put on my pants, boots, sweater, and gloves, running downstairs where the wind hits me right in the face. The front door is wide open, so she must have dashed outside barefoot in the fucking cold!

  If she planned it all along, then she wanted to seduce me and escape her nightmare.

  For her, is being mine worse than death?

  Unreasonable anger floods through me, and indifference settles on my face when I go out. By the footsteps, I know she’s moving toward the woods.

  I turn off all my emotional attachments and inhale the frigid air into my lungs, channeling the hunter and focusing on my prey.

  Lila will learn that no one harms what’s mine without getting punished.

  Including her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Eugene, 19 years old

  * * *

  Whistling, I walk through my office and throw the latest oil contract on the table. Pressing the red button on the phone, it immediately connects me to my secretary, who answers loudly, “Mr. Harrison.”

  “Is Emilio Giovanni here?”

  “Yes, he arrived five minutes ago, but you were at the meeting—”

  Not interested in hearing much of her voice, I cut her off. “Let him in. And make sure no one disturbs us.”

  “Yes, sir.” Disconnecting, I lean on my desk and wait for the man to enter, all the while wondering if he will agree to my offer.

  For the hundredth time, I study my father’s office and dwell on the past, his last words to me before the heart attack that took his life a year ago.

  But oddly, his death evokes no emotions inside me. I generally never felt much after my mother’s death, but I couldn’t even feel sorry for him.

  His end was the product of his choices.

  According to his will, he left everything to me, and I have full control with my grandmother who is on the board. Since she has zero interest in the business side of things, unless it requires her to reduce her expenses, we get along well. I was trained from a young age for this role, so everything runs as smoothly as it did.

  And only at night have I allowed myself to hunt, to pick up the scum of the world on the streets and practice my craft on their flesh. But it never goes according to plan. Always too much blood, or tears, or the wrong weapon.

  I even studied karate and boxing, but those don’t give me the much-needed advantage.

  To master the craft, you have to learn first, and I think I’ve found the perfect teacher for it.

  Emilio Giovanni barges in without knocking, wearing a three-piece suit almost identical to mine. His emphasizes his power and family name. Several tattoos on his neck speak about his status and the experiences he’s lived through, at least that’s what my research has told me. “Let’s make something clear. I’m not your bitch who you can summon at your every wish, Harrison.” Although he doesn’t raise his voice, the tone speaks volumes.

  Perfect, always in control. I can relate to such a character.

  Motioning to the leather chair opposite the desk, I say, “Welcome. Please sit.” Then before he can argue, I pick up the contract and wave it in his face. “According to this, your family is my bitch.”


  Fury flashes in his face, and his hands fist, but he quickly pushes it back and gives me nothing but a bored expression as he drops onto the chair and rests his elbows on the sides, propping his chin on the back of his hand. “What do you want?”

  Yeah, I thought so.

  My father might have been a bad man, but he sure was smart with his investments. He acquired starting companies all over the country, investing in the stock market, all while expanding his products and brand in different chains. One such company belonged to Emilio’s father, who at one point in time almost lost his empire.

  My father helped him out, of course for completely selfish reasons; who wouldn’t want to have the Cosa Nostra in their control? And as a result, I own the majority of the action in their business, which means I could make them bankrupt with the snap of my fingers.

  “I need your experience.” He raises his brows but stays silent, waiting for me to elaborate. Stubborn fucker. “In torture and everything else that requires a skill to kill someone. Also, how to make sure no one can trace it back to me.”

  He laughs as if finding it funny, but it dies on his lips the minute he understands I’m not joking. “Have you lost your mind?” he asks and gets up swiftly, his anger on full display. He is ready to punch me at any second if his fisted hands are any indication. “What is it, rich boy? Someone’s told you no and you want to kill them?”

  “No, rarely anyone refuses me,” I reply calmly albeit bored, because I shouldn’t have to explain my actions to him of all people.

  “Oh yeah? Well how about that.” He claps his hands loudly and spits out, “I just did. Go fuck yourself with your orders.”

  He spins around and goes toward the door, when my words pause him midway. “I will give your family back their stock shares.”

  I wait for my words to fully sink in, and he finally turns back to face me, conflicting emotions running across his face, one after another. “You can’t buy me.”

  “You’re right. I can’t.” I throw the folder back and then pick up another one. “But your family means everything to you. And the minute I request my shares, everyone will be out on the streets. Banks will even take your precious car.” His jaw tics while I continue to paint a rather sad picture. “Your aunts, uncles, and nieces will lose their houses. Not to mention the Cosa Nostra will crumble. And we both know you guys have a lot of enemies. Are you sure you can handle the fallout?” Blackmail isn’t exactly the way I wanted to go about all this, but he left me no choice.

  Young Giovanni sure has a temper.

  Minutes tick by while he considers my proposition, and then he nods, hooking his thumbs on his pockets. “Fine. You’ll sign the shares over first, and then I’ll do the work.”

  “Fine by me.” If Emilio promises something, he always keeps his word. Honor is far greater for him than money.

  “But let me make something very clear. You use the abilities I give you to harm women or children, I will kill you myself. In the most painful of ways.”

  I half smile, noticing how he’s decided to have the last word after all.

  “Very well.” I extend my hand to him and he shakes it, cementing our agreement.

  In the next few years, he teaches me religiously, but he also introduces me to the world of the elite, which has all the prey I need.

  And somehow along the way, a strong friendship has grown, which will know no boundaries of time.

  * * *

  New York, New York

  1981

  * * *

  Lila

  Breathing heavily, I wrap my arms around the tree and wince at the scratchy surface that sends prickles of pain through my torn skin. Dusty leaves and dirt dig into my sore, bare feet, and a whimper slips past my lips. “Help,” I cry, but it’s barely an audible croak, as my throat is too sore from screaming and sobbing to make other sounds.

  Tears slide down my cheeks while I will myself to calm down and resume running, when the other voice in my head—the one exhausted from all the sweet torture that has been inflicted on me—begs me to sit down and rest.

  My knees wobble, and I’m about to listen to them, when I hear his footsteps several feet away, his heavy boots crunching the dry leaves under them while he darts through the woods, searching for his prey.

  I shouldn’t have expected anything different; after all, he is a born predator that feeds on the misery and fear of his victims.

  It’s funny that I ever did.

  Clearly, our one last night didn’t change his outlook on our situation or prove to him I want out. He only selfishly cares about his desire, but what about me?

  I can’t live with a man who kills others on a daily basis!

  With determination fueling me, I run to the far end of the forest, where the sounds of water can be heard in the distance and hope blossoms in my chest again.

  If I can get to the water, he won’t find me. I’m invincible in it, because I was the best swimmer in my high school class.

  I run as fast as I can, blocking away the agony building in me and all the wounds that bleed, ignoring his deep, husky voice that shouts. “Lila!” I hate my name on his lips. I hate everything about him.

  Maybe because it tugs on my heart and makes me think about all the wonderful moments we’ve experienced, about his life that he led before me, about his reasons. Some part of me forgives him for all the wrongs in his world and doesn’t care about his present or past if I’m his future.

  But another part pulls me in a different direction.

  I should never have trusted a monster, but they have the tendency of hiding their true nature. Not that he ever hid it, he just showed me what he wanted me to see.

  Fool, I was such a fool, but no more.

  I won’t die as his victim; anything is better than this. I won’t ever again be at the mercy of someone else’s cruelty. I have no illusions that after stabbing him and running away, he’ll want me dead. He relaxed with me, and I betrayed him, just like his father.

  Men like him don’t give second chances.

  I’m in my head so much I don’t see where I’m headed until it’s too late. Halting quickly, I stop almost at the edge of the cliff and my eyes widen at the picture greeting me.

  Several feet down, there is indeed water. But to get there, I’ll need to jump and probably break my neck from the impact on the stones located around the edge of the lake. “No,” I murmur, desperation sinking into me while I shake my head in denial, removing the bloody strands of hair from my face. “No.” It can’t end like this, not when I’ve finally found the way out of the nightmare he’s created.

  “Lila,” he says from behind me. I freeze, air catching in my lungs, and slowly turn around. The breeze hits me in my face and adds to the tremors rushing through me, increasing the list of things that make me miserable. “Come here, Lila.” He extends his leather-gloved hand toward me, while his dark eyes practically order me to listen to his command.

  Studying him, I think that nothing but the angel of death describes him. He is so handsome in a sinister way, showing with his every breath that he dominates the energy and those around him.

  But how can I stay? What future awaits me if I say yes?

  He is the king in his little world, and I’m just a pawn he happens to like.

  Or more like a pawn who refuses to be his. “I hate you,” I tell him, and the muscle in his jaw tics, but he repeats again.

  “Come here, Lila.”

  How dare he call me to him? Insane. The man is insane.

  When I make a move to turn back to the edge, his low tone washes over me, as if he’s skimming his leather belt over my skin again. “Don’t you dare harm what’s mine.”

  Hollow laughter echoes through the wind, and I tell him, “Even death is better than you. I’m not yours.” And then I jump, accompanied by his scream of “No!” as birds chirp loudly above us.

  I fall and fall, and my whole life flashes in front of my eyes.

  Especially the last months and the ev
ents that have led me to my ultimate downfall.

  And right before I plunge into the water, the stupidity of my actions catches up with me.

  * * *

  Eugene

  “No!” I shout at the stubborn woman and, without thinking, jump after her, making sure to place a hand in front of me to be ready for any kind of blow.

  The most important thing is to protect the head; otherwise, I’ll be of no help to her.

  With a loud splash, I dive to the side, and everything goes silent as water surrounds me. I hit my leg on a stone, but I move my hands and legs propelling me up, up, up, and finally break the surface, gulping in as much as I can. “Lila!” I shout again and look around, but she is nowhere in sight.

  The flow is so strong in the freezing water that I can barely hold on to a rock. I dig my fingers into it frantically, scanning the place, and that’s when I notice a body floating to the edge. Fear sinks into me at the prospect of her going over the waterfall.

  Diving toward her, I swim, doing my best to reach her, but she is floating so fast it seems like all my strength won’t be enough.

  The edge of her dress hooks on a branch from a low hanging tree, and it stills her for a moment, giving me enough time to reach her right before she is about to drift to the edge. “Lila,” I call her name, but she is unconscious, her body heavy. I cry out as I keep a firm hold on her and swim to the shore, doing my best to keep a tight grip on her, so the water will give me a chance to get the fuck out of here alive.

  A huge wave flows over us, and I still my breath, hiding Lila’s face in my neck, and she almost slips from my arms, but I catch her in time.

  Taking a deep breath, I continue to swim and swim toward the shore, all while praying to all the gods out there that she will survive this.

  Stupid, stupid girl.

  Why would she do this? She never hung her head for all those assholes, but she was ready to kill herself because of me?

  One more stroke and I get her on the cold ground, shaking her, but she’s still unconscious and already turning blue.