Depraved

by Pucci, Trilina

  I can’t lose you, Billy. You chose me. I won’t fucking lose you.

  Pain ignites against my skin as my shoulder connects with brute force against the door, and a loud crack sounds through the oak, splintering the wood, leaving jagged edges and frays.

  Her name pulls from my throat as I take a step back and charge the door again, splitting it open. The hinged part flies open, bouncing off the wall, and back into my hand that’s up to stop it.

  There’s commotion behind me, but I’m focused on what’s in front of me.

  “What the fuck is going on?” I hear Dom yell almost on top of Luca’s voice booming through the space.

  “What the fuck is happening?”

  I stand silent inside my room, letting my eyes take in the unmade bed…the high heels on the floor, and the window that’s still cracked at the very bottom.

  Because closing it completely from the outside is near impossible.

  It’s as if I can’t catch my breath as I look around. I know this all means something, but my mind won’t let me think it. I can’t know this because I told her…

  I told her she could never leave…

  My eyes drift around the room until I see it. I see her goodbye because it doesn’t matter that I already knew she left by the other pieces of the puzzle. It’s the diamond choker and bracelets on the nightstand that hold my attention, paralyzing my breath.

  I take a step backward, feeling the rage settle itself inside my bones, guiding me toward what I’ll do next. I turn to my brothers, hollowed and emptied of my heart.

  “She’s left. Sarah’s gone.”

  My vision goes black, giving in to the comfort of my haze of fury as my fist busts straight through the wall next to me.

  PUSHING THE HEAVY DOOR OPEN, the smell of stale beer and cigarettes attack my senses. My sneakered feet make a squeak on the floor as I step on whatever sticky shit hasn’t been cleaned off the floor of this crappy bar, but I pull my hoodie down over my face and walk inside.

  I stole my new ensemble right out of a suitcase being unloaded from a bus that came from Chicago, and then I stole a car and headed right for Boston. By the time the people in the overnight parking figured out their car was missing, I’d be long gone.

  I want to feel guilty, but I don’t.

  It took fifteen hours, and I drove it straight because I knew if I stopped and stood still, Dante would get to me. But now my body is surviving on adrenaline and Red Bull, leaving me jittery and unsettled.

  It could’ve been worse. Dante could have stopped me. Thank god I still have survival skills—if you can call theft and hot-wiring a car “skills.”

  My eyes scan the room looking for the man I’m here for. This bar is the kind that serves as a feeder for anyone who wants in with someone like Declan. It’s a hot spot for wannabes and losers.

  A guy sitting at the bar takes a drag of his cigarette as he speaks loudly about his latest fight. He’s throwing money at the bartender, buying drinks, while his arm hangs lazily over a woman who looks as if she’s fifty and still hoping for her prince.

  I make my way over to where he’s speaking too loud for the story he’s telling and take a seat on the stool two down, raising a finger to the bartender and pointing to the whiskey on the shelf.

  “And then I told him…you better fucking apologize because my boss isn’t someone you want coming for ya.”

  The man’s breath gets caught in his throat as he laughs, making him cough like someone who smokes three packs a day. He clears his throat, wiping the back of his dirty hand over his mouth, before reaching to the cigarette that’s rested among another fifty in an ashtray. Putting the smoke to his lips, he takes another drag.

  “Because Declan Murphy is a man of his word…”

  “Bullshit,” I say aloud, interrupting him, pulling the shot of whiskey toward me.

  He coughs again, and I hear the stool move and feet shuffle. “Did you just say bullshit?”

  I don’t answer, opting to nod instead.

  “Who says I don’t work for Declan? You better watch your big mouth before I break it.”

  I slam my shot down on the counter, letting the burn run down my throat, and bring my hands to my hood and pull it back, locking eyes with him. “Hi, Dad. Been a long time.”

  He stabs his cigarette into the ashtray vigorously, a sneer spreading across his face.

  “Call your fake boss. Tell him I’m here and that I’d like to come home now. Go on,” I coax, motioning to the old shitty phone on the bar top.

  I stand and pick up the second shot the bartender puts in front of me. “I’ll be over there in the booth. Let me know when it’s time.”

  Walking away, I hear my dad on the phone with my brother, and my eyes stay focused ahead when I hear, “We just hit the lotto.”

  I push into the booth and set the whiskey on the table and let my head fall back against the torn, cracked faux leather that’s on the seat, closing my eyes.

  It’s almost over.

  My peace is interrupted by the smell of my father as he joins me. “When they come for you, you’re going to tell them we found you.”

  “Yep,” I answer, unsurprised by his opportunism. I was actually banking on it.

  I open my eyes as the smoke from his newly lit cigarette infiltrates my nose. I level a glare at him and pick up my forgotten shot and throw it back.

  I place it back on the table and lock eyes with him, noticing the deep lines and worn skin on his face. I wish I felt something for him or had one good memory. But I don’t.

  He might as well be a stranger to me.

  “Did you ever love me? Not love what I could do for you…but like the love a parent has for a child.”

  “No,” he answers frankly, giving a shrug.

  “I’m glad.” I nod. “I’ll never have to mourn. So I guess, thanks for that.”

  His mouth opens to say something fucked up but shuts immediately as he holds his smoke in between his teeth and scrambles from the booth to stand.

  He looks downright afraid. I glance around to see similar expressions, and I know my ride’s here. Pushing from the booth, I stand and turn around to see two men in dark suits standing at the door.

  Without speaking, I start toward the men, and my father calls from behind, “Don’t forget what I said, Sarah.” I give him the middle finger as I walk straight out the opened door, letting it close behind me. My eyes squint, trying to adjust to the dimming light of the late afternoon because I was in complete darkness.

  A car door opens, and one of the men behind me grunts, “In.” I climb in, immediately relieved that I’m alone. No Declan in sight.

  The suits climb in on either side of me as the driver gets in and starts the car. My body is squished, even in the back of the SUV, because I’m being swallowed up by the two gargantuan men.

  The tires kick up rocks as the car peels out of the parking lot, darting into traffic quickly and causing me to ram into the suit next to me.

  “Jesus. Is that necessary…are you trying to kill us?” I shoot out, gripping the seat between my legs to right myself.

  A strong hand connects with my mouth as my head shoots backward, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. My hands shoot to my face to where the pain stabs at me.

  “Keep your mouth shut, bitch.”

  Tears spring to my eyes as my mouth throbs. I wipe my hand over my lip, seeing crimson on my fingertips. I should keep my mouth shut. I should listen. I should.

  “Is your boss going to like it when you bring him damaged goods?” I challenge.

  Suit number one grabs my hair, pulling my head back with such ferocity I’m sure he’s pulled the strands out of my scalp. Suit number two comes close to my face, his eyes filled with his enjoyment as a pained whimper catches in my mouth.

  “Your husband told us we could have as much fun as we wanted with you…but today’s your lucky day because dirty, filthy whores aren’t our type. Maybe after he cleans you up, we can show you what we
specialize in?”

  A sharp hit to my stomach forces a scream from my mouth as I’m released to double over in pain. I stay like that, bent over myself and quiet, hugging my legs, wishing that I’d fall asleep, wake up, and realize this was all just a nightmare.

  The bolt on the door sounds as the locks are removed from the outside. I scramble to my feet off the old, pissed-on mattress that’s in the room. Pulling my zip up around my body tighter, I cross my arms, preparing for who’s coming in.

  Declan walks through the door, smiling like the arrogant prick he is.

  “You’ve looked better,” he greets, leaning his head in, sniffing, and recoiling as if I’m disgusting. “I’m surprised to see you here. I trust you’re comfortable.”

  “Sure, as much as anyone can be when they’re beaten and thrown in a fucking dungeon.”

  He rolls his eyes. “That’s a bit dramatic—there’s a mattress. And from what I heard, you’re to blame for the beating you got. Seems your smart mouth keeps getting you in trouble.”

  The look in his eyes makes me nervous. He isn’t leveling me with anger—it’s excitement. Declan wants to hurt me, and he’s waiting for me to give him a reason.

  “You’re right. Let’s start again. I’m here, cooperating, and ready to behave,” I lie.

  Declan is a dead man walking, and I’m just playing him at his own game.

  He walks toward me, pushing a hand into his pants pocket. “Mmmm. I don’t know. You’re a sneaky one. You managed to evade your father for eight years, but he catches you now? Where’d he grab you at?”

  “A bar. The exchange was made there. You should be celebrating. You’ve won. They discarded me, treated me like a piece of trash. You were right. They are the monsters.” I keep my eyes on his, saying each word with more conviction than the next.

  It’s the best con job I’ve ever pulled, but Declan tilts his head, his lips pulling up in the corners. He’s trying to seem friendly, but the disbelief in his eyes remains.

  “You could prove it to me. Show me how committed you are to being here,” he offers.

  The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, fear creeping over me.

  “By?” I swallow nervously.

  “Drop to your knees and crawl to me.” He grins as he squats down and claps his hands as if he’s calling a dog.

  I stand, staring at him and seeing him for the small man he is. He wants my humiliation like we’re playing some sick game. But he won’t get it. Because while he plays his games with me, I know the Devil is coming for his soul.

  I drop down slowly to my knees and place my palms on the floor, closing my eyes and stilling my breath.

  “Come on. Come here,” he calls whistling to me like I’m an animal. “And when you get here, you can swallow my cock.”

  My head snaps to his, and I push back to my feet, standing up angrily. My nostrils flare as the breath rips in and out of my lungs. I’ll never let him touch me.

  “Go fuck yourself. Get out of my hovel. I’d rather die in here than ever be in the same room with you again.”

  I spit on the rank carpet toward him and watch the mask he tries to wear drop from his face. I’ve fallen right into his plan.

  A deep guttural cry erupts from Declan as he charges me, his fist connecting with my face. The first hit is the only thing I feel. After that, my mind goes numb as the blackness takes over.

  THE PLANE TOUCHES DOWN ON the private Boston airstrip, and I’m already standing as we taxi in. The moment I saw the empty room, I knew. I knew she’d come here.

  Not everyone was as convinced, but there’s no changing my mind. I know exactly why she did this. There’s no war if Declan gets her.

  But she knows I’ll come for her. She fucking knows that I’ll kill everyone in my way to make sure I take back what’s mine.

  And that’s exactly what I’m going to do because this was the move I couldn’t make. I could never risk her, even if it meant a swift end to the problem.

  So, she did it for me.

  My beautiful, loving girl did it for me.

  I run my hand over my face, trying to restrain the energy coursing through my veins. “Call Matteo, check in with him and the girls,” I direct to Vincenzo.

  He nods, getting straight to task, and my head swings to Antonio. “Check in with our guy here, see if he has eyes on her yet. I want to know exactly where she is because getting her back is the number one priority…clipping Declan is just icing on the cake.”

  “I still can’t believe she did this,” Dom growls as he stares out the small cabin window.

  Luca stands up next to me, holding a hand on the seat to steady himself. “I can. She’s smart and a damn force of nature. She’s bought us time using his own method against him. Declan will be too caught up in her torment to pay attention to what we’re doing. So, we need to make sure her efforts count. When we meet with the Irish council tonight, we need to make sure they’re on board with taking Declan down.”

  “And we’ll do that, whether it’s by reason or force,” Dom adds darkly.

  I smack the ceiling of the plane hard twice, angry at the images that are pushing to the front of my head. “I’ll kill every single person who’s touched her.”

  Antonio stands as the plane rocks to a complete stop. “We all need to stay level. So that we play this smart.”

  I look over my shoulder as he gives me a nod, and I understand what he’s saying. I’m only getting one shot at this, and I can’t let my feelings rule my decisions. Not if I want Declan’s demise to fall into place.

  The sound of metal connecting to the door means the stairs are rolled. I pick up my small black duffle and adjust the Glock on my back as the door is opened. I duck my head, taking each step to the bottom, waiting as my brothers join me.

  Three men begin walking toward us and away from at least ten Black Range Rovers.

  “The Boston family. Carlo and Lou Scorleone,” Nico says to Luca as he nods.

  “Let’s go,” I direct as Luca and Dom join me on each side to close the distance and greet them.

  I pick out Lou and Carlo right away, but it’s the guy in between them I don’t know.

  “You recognize him?” I say to my brothers, who both shake their heads.

  I undo the button on my jacket for easier access. I don’t want to shoot someone out in the open, but if I have to, I will.

  “Ciao,” Lou greets, but the stranger pushes forward.

  “The Sovrano brothers, it’s a real pleasure.” He extends his hand, but I ignore it. “I’m sorry, where are my manners. I’m Connor O’Bannion.”

  “What the fuck,” I roar. I take a step back, reaching for my piece, and pull it on him.

  Luca and Dom both hold their guns at Carlo and Lou, jaws tensed and ready to follow my lead.

  “No, Dante. Lui è con noi. Per favore. Per favore.” No, Dante. He’s with us. Please. Please. Carlo and Lou yell over each other, holding up their hands.

  My Glock points at Connor’s forehead as I take an angry step toward him. “Why the fuck are you here? You get one answer. Make it count.”

  Connor is calm, adorned with a wide smile as my gun hovers inches from him.

  “We have a mutual enemy, and I’m here to offer my help. Lou was gracious enough to call me and let me come. My father was always friendly with the Italians, and in that spirit, I’d like to help Luca and Dominic with the council meeting tonight.”

  “How’d you know about our meeting with the Irish council? Lou and Carlo didn’t know,” Luca pushes.

  “I’m not the only one who wants things in our family to return back to the old ways. This crew was named after my family, and Declan isn’t one of us. He’s a low-life who gunned his way to the top, killing good men like my father to run a family he should’ve never been accepted into. An O’Bannion has always run this crew, and I intend to see that happen again…with your help of course.”

  I stare at him, looking into his eyes. He’s angry, and I believe hi
m. Dropping my gun to my side, my brothers do the same.

  “You want Declan dead?” I question.

  “I do,” Connor answers. “I can’t touch him, but you can.”

  “Are you prepared to make sure your council is on board? Because we’re not really asking. You need to understand that.”

  He gives a curt nod and looks back at me. “So, do we have a deal here? May I tag along?”

  “You have a few hours tops to get a consensus before news gets out that Declan’s dead. My brothers will be with you; they can let me know you did the job. Because, Connor, if you can’t run your crew, they will.”

  I look at Carlo and Lou, jerking my head for them to follow as I leave Luca and Dominic to handle the diplomatic negotiations.

  We approach the cars, and I see Nico, Antonio, and Vincenzo approaching with our bags.

  “How many men do I have?” I bark, taking my duffle from Nico.

  “As many as you want, Capo. Whatever we need to do, we’re at your disposal,” Carlo answers, pointing to the cars for the guys to take.

  Lou pulls my door open, and I duck inside, throwing my bag next to me. “I’ll make it worth your while. You can rest assured after today that the Sovranos will take care of the Scorelones.”

  They exchange an appreciative look and nod. “We’ll take you to a spot about a mile outside Declan’s place, and you a can give everyone direction, then we can go in,” Lou offers.

  “Let’s roll,” I agree, before he shuts my door, the two of them climbing in the front of the car and bringing it to life.

  The cars pull out in succession, one right after the other, each ready for what’s ahead.

  There’s a calm that happens in moments of extreme violence. It’s almost as if your mind needs to slow down so that it can detach from the adrenaline and emotion that’s clouding your judgment and causing a person to make an irreversible choice.

  But that doesn’t happen for me. I’m present, void of the filter that stops normal people from killing. Because these deaths are just. Necessary. And a goddamn forgone conclusion.