by Nicole Fox
It’s disgusting. I tear my eyes open.
But there’s no respite. There’s no escape. It doesn’t matter whether I’m dreaming or not. I can’t outrun them all.
Awake again in the real world, I find myself tied to a massive four-poster bed with unnecessarily frilly covers that prick my skin. Rokiades is sitting on a chair to the right, his eyes trained on me with an unreadable expression. His eyes track my body, lingering on my breasts before landing on my face.
“This doesn’t have to be hard, you know,” he remarks when he sees that I’m up. “I can be merciful. Even kind.”
I scoff. “So you’re delusional as well as cruel.”
He ignores me. “As my wife, you would have nothing but the best. You would live in luxury, wear the finest clothes, own the most expensive jewelry.”
“What makes you think I care about any of that?”
“I thought you were smart.”
“Smart enough to know what I don’t want,” I tell him. “And I don’t want you.”
“Then I suggest you change your mind,” he says sharply. “Or else prepare yourself for a hard life.”
I cringe at the threat. For some reason, it scares me more now as I stare at the gaudy loudness of the room I’m trapped in. This place is hideous. A fitting match for its owner. Everything is gilded and contoured, like he can hide the ugliness of who he is behind ostentatiousness.
Rokiades gets up and moves closer to the bed. I tense, bracing myself for whatever hell he’s going to unleash on me. When he leans in, I shrink back.
“I can be tender, Renata,” he murmurs.
He’s so close I can see the individual lines around his eyes, the milkiness in his irises that comes from old age. I wonder how many pills he needs to pop to get it up. How many women he’s done this to before.
“I can be a good husband,” he says. “A generous lover. But it all depends on you.”
Before I can respond, he bends and his lips slide against mine. My eyes stay open as my nose is filled with the horrible scent of cigar ash and overwhelming cologne.
I’m so furious at the assault that I open my mouth and bite down hard on his lip.
The Greek howls in pain and springs away from me. Blood drips down his mouth. His tangy blood coats my tongue, but I don’t mind in this case. It feels like victory.
He glares at me furiously. The so-called tenderness has disappeared completely from his expression. He’s looking positively murderous now. “You fucking bitch!”
“What’s the matter, old man?” I ask triumphantly. “Got more than you bargained for?”
I see his hand coming for me and I brace myself. The hit is a cross between a slap and a punch. It’s as though he can’t make up his mind. The fact that he’s wearing a massive gold ring only makes the blow more painful, but I don’t give a fuck. It was so worth it to watch the bastard bleed.
My skin breaks underneath the slap. My own blood starts to trickle down my cheek.
“I’m never going to stop fighting you,” I snarl at him. “And I’m never going to give you an child. Count on it.”
“Oh yes, you will,” he snarls. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“There are some things that can’t be done,” I tell him calmly, “no matter how powerful you think you are. Sometimes, fate is stronger.”
He throws back his head and laughs. The blood dripping down his drooping jowls makes him look downright psychotic. Not that he’s too far from it, anyway.
“That’s what you’re hanging your hopes on?” he asks. “Fate? You really are a stupid child.”
I feel a stab of pain in my stomach, but I ignore it. I just grit my teeth, steeling myself against all the pain I know is yet to come.
“If you try and rape me, I will do much worse than that,” I say, gesturing to his split lip.
He shakes his head, the manic glint still glowing in his eyes. “Oh I have no intention of touching you now,” he tells me. “But when I do, trust me—I’m not the one who’s going to end up bleeding.”
45
Kian
One Week Later
“Don O’Sullivan?”
I spin around to face the voice as though I’m preparing to attack. Collin takes a step back, clearly startled by my reaction. He should be used to it by now. I’ve been jumpy ever since Renata was taken.
As of today, that was a whole fucking week ago.
I’m so furious with myself that pacing has become my new form of stress relief. Not that it relieves much of anything. My other outlets have been slightly more satisfying. I’ve had my men target local restaurants and clubs that are widely known to be Greek haunts. And with every dead Greek son of a bitch, I feel one tiny morsel better.
I hope he hears me kicking down his doors. I hope he sees me slaughtering his troops one by one. Because I want my message to come through loud and clear.
I’m coming for you, Yannis.
I’d expected retaliation from the Greeks or the Italians almost immediately. But my efforts have been met so far with silence.
Which brings me back to the pacing. It’s a vicious cycle.
“What is it?” I ask Collin when my adrenaline has receded.
“We’ve got a man at the gates,” Collin tells me. “His name is Elias Baros. He’s been sent by Rokiades. He claims to have an offer for you.”
“Where is he now?”
“Just outside the entrance,” he replies. “We’ve already checked him thoroughly. He’s not armed or carrying explosives.”
“Send him in.”
Collin disappears with a curt nod. When he returns, he’s accompanied by a tall, rangy man with wild brown hair.
He steps into my office confidently, but his eyes scan the space with a hawkish glint in his eye. He looks older than I am, but not by much. There’s a wiry toughness about him that tells me he’s not one to be intimidated easily. Which is probably the reason he was sent in the first place.
“Elias Baros, I presume?”
“O’Sullivan,” he greets with a tilt of the head.
The purposeful omission of my title as don is a provocation, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of demanding respect. I never wanted the title to begin with.
“Don Rokiades has sent me with an offer,” he continues.
“Get to the interesting part, man.”
I’m itching to ask about Renata, but I don’t want to give them any more ammunition than they already have. At the moment, Renata is nothing but an asset to these bastards If they get wind of the fact that she is more to me than just a piece on the chessboard, that gives Rokiades leverage he’s sure to make use of.
I startle myself a little with those thoughts. When had Renata become more to me than just a pawn? I don’t have the time to think of the answers, however. Not with Elias watching me through eagle eyes that are quickly to take in every little detail.
“We have the girl. Renata Lombardi.”
“I’m aware of that,” I drawl.
“She has not been harmed,” he adds. “Yet.”
My fists clench before I can stop myself. There’s no way he doesn’t see that. The corners of his mouth turn up in a knowing smile.
“Don Rokiades is willing to give her up. Set her free.”
My muscles are tight with tension, but I try and maintain the placid expression on my face. “What does he want in exchange?”
There’s a beat of silence. And I already know that the bastard is waiting to drink in my reaction. “You,” he says at last.
I raise my eyebrows. “Me?”
“Yes,” Baros says. “He’ll release Renata if you give yourself up.”
“What makes him think I would ever agree to that?” I ask incredulously.
“Maybe you’d like to ask him yourself,” Baros offers. “I can dial him for you.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” I ask, jutting my chin towards the phone on my desk. “The less time I have to waste talking to you Greek assholes, the better.�
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Unruffled, Baros struts over and picks up the receiver. He dials in a number and then puts it on speaker phone.
“Hello?”
Hearing Rokiades’s baritone makes me furious all over again. “Is this some kind of joke?” I demand, skipping the pleasantries. “Do you think I’m a fucking blue light special at the department store? ‘Trade in some girl, get a don for free’?”
The Greek don chuckles. “On the contrary, I’m extremely serious.”
“You really expect me to give myself up for the Lombardi girl?”
A shuffling of motion comes through from the other side. Rokiades is on the move. He’s walking somewhere. “I know you will,” he tells me confidently. “And I’ll tell you why…”
I wait for his explanation. The sound of footsteps is obvious now. A door squeals open.
“…Because I know she means more to you than you want to let on.”
I freeze, warning signals firing off in my brain as I think of a way to maneuver out of this situation. How the fuck had he managed to figure that out?
“That’s a pretty big assumption on your part,” I say calmly. “And you know what happens when you assume…”
“It’s not an assumption,” Rokiades scowls. “I know the little slut means something to you. I know you mean something to her. When I fished her out of the ocean and breathed the life back into her, it was your name she cried out. And at night, when she sleeps, it’s your name she screams.”
That revelation has me feeling both fear and elation. In her most vulnerable moments, she called for me. She wanted me.
I wish I could puzzle out exactly what that might mean.
“The girl has an unhealthy interest in me. She’s hardly the first. That doesn’t mean the feeling is mutual,” I point out.
“No?” he asks. “Well, then, perhaps I’ve misjudged the situation. Hold on a moment while I put you on speaker phone.”
I hear a few sounds on the other line and then—a scream.
Renata’s scream.
I can’t help myself. “What the fuck are you doing?” I snarl viciously.
“Considering you don’t give a shit about her, I thought you wouldn’t mind hearing her in pain. And trust me, I haven’t even gotten started yet.”
More movement. And then another scream. This one louder and more tortured than the last.
I try and steel myself off from it. I try not to care. To at least pretend like I don’t for the sake of appearances. But the pain in her voice is unbearable.
“Enough!”
Her scream cuts off and I hear her panting in the afterglow.
“What was that?” Rokiades asks innocently.
“Don’t fucking touch her,” I growl.
I know the old fucker is smiling. I can practically feel his triumph from here. “You will stop your attacks on my men. Right now,” he tells me, knowing he’s got the upper hand here. “And as for the rest… do we have a deal?”
I have to think fast. I can’t imagine why Rokiades would want to give up Renata. Especially since his control over half the city would depend on her.
But perhaps he thinks holding the O’Sullivan don is a more effective strategy. There’s no doubt we’re the most powerful mafia in the city.
Or maybe this is all just a trap, a way to lure me out into the open so that he could attack.
Every possibility seems as likely as the next, and I don’t have the luxury of considering each one.
On the other hand, even if the exchange is made successfully, there’s no way Rokiades would be able to control my men. They’d never bend to his rules. Not without my command. And if he slaughtered me in cold blood, Cillian would come and take control.
The Clan will be safe, no matter what.
The question that remains is… Will Renata?
“Fine,” I reply. “We’ll meet at a neutral location and make the exchange. I want to see her first.”
“That can be arranged.”
“I’ll give your man a time and place,” I tell him.
“Looking forward to meeting you, Kian,” he says, using my name with a gross overfamiliarity.
I hang up, pull out a piece of paper and write down an address and a time. Then I turn towards his man and hand over the paper.
“Tell your boss that we each bring twenty men. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“Good. Now get the fuck out of my house.”
Once the Greek is gone, I have all my men gather in the main foyer at the front door. Then I tell them about the plan. By the time I finish, their jaws are on the floor. For the first minute, only their protestations fill the air. “Don, you can’t be serious!”
I hold up my hand and immediately, silence descends.
“I appreciate your input… and your concern,” I tell them. “But I have to do this.”
“It’s a trap,” Ramsey says earnestly.
“It very well could be, but I can’t leave Renata with him. She’s too valuable and he’s too dangerous.”
“You’re valuable, too,” Collin points out. “Boss, without you—”
“Without me, you have Don Cillian,” I point out. “Your orders will come from him. You are to do as he commands. Understood?”
“Is he aware of this plan?”
I pause. “No,” I admit. “And he is not to be informed until after the exchange.”
“Boss—”
I hold up my hand again, silencing the fresh round of arguments. “I know I’m asking a lot of you. But I trust you all. I need you to trust me. I need you to resist no matter what. Remember, your loyalty lies with the Clan and the Clan alone.”
The men hold their closed fists up against their chest. The O’Sullivan salute.
I nod approvingly. “Now prepare yourselves,” I say. “We’re going in tonight.”
“Tonight?” Collin repeats in shock.
“At midnight. I’m the one who chose the location. It’s in the neutral territory between our land and theirs.”
I can see the uneasy looks that my men are exchanging. None of them like this plan. None of them can understand why I’m agreed to it. A part of me is even questioning my own judgement here. But even I can’t deny that my decision has little to do with judgement or reason. This has to do with emotion. I’m not making this decision for myself or for the Clan.
I’m doing it for her.
46
Kian
AN HOUR BEFORE MIDNIGHT—DEEP IN THE NYC INDUSTRIAL DISTRICT
I stare up at the old abandoned building. It used to be a functioning factory. But like the rest of this neighborhood, it’s crumbling into ruin now. Everything we passed on our way here reeked of hopelessness and lost potential.
True to my agreement with the Greeks, I have only twenty men with me. But I do have three other backup teams stationed about a mile off in case Rokiades doesn’t hold up his end of the bargain.
I’m a man of my word. But I’m also not a fucking idiot.
Everyone else in my life seems to think I am, though. I’d declined a call from Cillian earlier this evening. There’s no way he’d agree to this, so why put myself in a position where I’d have to openly defy my older brother?
Besides—if he didn’t want me doing as I see fit, he shouldn’t have made me don in my own right.
I’d have smirked at that if I weren’t so fucking tense. A message comes in on Eugene’s comms device, but the static swallows up the words.
“What was that?” I ask from the back seat.
“Some movement has been detected on the east side,” Eugene replies. “The Greeks are on the move.”
“How many vehicles?”
“Four, same as us.”
We’re an hour early, but that’s intentional on my part. I like to take in the lay of the land before a fight. Especially when I can’t be sure of my enemies. It’s a long time since I’ve been in this part of town, and it’s even grimmer than I remember.
Up ahead, I notice
the makeshift basketball court sitting right next to the empty lot where Rokiades and I are supposed to be meeting soon. A handful of young boys are shooting hoops under the moonlight. They look like they’re in their early teens. Five of them, at least.
I’d picked this time and place believing it would be deserted. Realistically, they aren’t an issue I need to be worried about right now. Just some kids fucking around with their friends. But I’d feel better if they get far the fuck away from here.
“What’s the plan, boss?” Collin asks, noticing my expression.
“How long ‘til the meeting time?”
“Fifty-three minutes.”
I nod and get out of the car. Two of my men get down and follow behind me, but I wave them away. “I won’t be long.” I feel their hesitation but in the end, they stay behind.
The game pauses and all the boys glance in my direction as I make my way onto the basketball court. The basketball rolls off into a corner, seemingly forgotten.
One of them separates from the pack and struts over to me. He’s sixteen or seventeen, with bad skin and crooked teeth that tell me his parents can’t afford the health care he needs. His sneakers are beaten-up hand-me-downs and the broken slant of his nose says he has been in his share of fights over the years. His face has that weathered quality of someone who has seen too much, too young.
I gaze around at the other faces. I can see the deprivations of their lives on their faces. And I feel a stab of pity for the lost communities who’ve been left behind. All these poor little pockets of the city, ravaged by too much crime and not enough jobs. Too many drugs and not enough hope. Too much of the bad shit and not enough of the things that make life worth living.
“It’s a little late to be playing basketball, eh?”