ASHES (Ignite Book 3)

by R. J. Lewis

  This man’s gaze was chilling.

  I watched as he slowly opened his mouth and spoke in… Spanish. His voice was low and deep. It was a nice smooth voice, to be honest. Not one I was expecting from a man like him.

  “You’re scared,” Christy suddenly said, standing by his side, looking down at him, waiting. I looked at her and then him, quickly understanding she’d just translated for him.

  Okay, that was interesting.

  They observed me, waiting for me to respond, but I didn’t. I kept my gaze fixed to his, even though it made every atom in my being tremble.

  I hated that they could see it. They knew I was terrified. I was losing my battle at indifference, and my anger at that equalled my fear.

  Still looking back with equal intensity, he said something else, and she chuckled dryly, telling me, “We know you have a voice. It’s one of your defining qualities. Use it, or is your fear stopping you?”

  The way she said fear pissed me off. Her condescending tone grated at me. I ground my teeth together, a flare of irritation shooting through me. Feeling my nostrils flare, I retorted, “It’s you who should be scared. My father will burn every inch of this earth to find me.”

  I didn’t know if that was true.

  I didn’t think my father gave two shits about me.

  He probably cared more that I wasn’t present for the wedding and the deal with the Espositos was severed. But adrenaline was doing all the talking now, and I couldn’t resist myself.

  “He’ll tear through this place like a fucking hurricane,” I went on. “He’ll kill every single one of your men and make you watch, and then he’ll take his time with you. He’ll make you suffer until your last breath. Do what you want with me but be damn sure of the consequences! He’s a shark, and you’ve drawn blood.”

  Jesus, what the hell was I saying? Was that the best I could do? Years of the best education money could buy out the window the second I stood before a thug. It was so primitive of me. I imagined my father glaring at me, loosening his tie in annoyance, realizing with disdain that the tunnel girl could not be locked inside of me after all.

  She translated in Spanish to him, and as she did, his eyes still locked onto mine, unwavering as he listened. Jesus fuck, I didn’t know how long I could keep staring back. I felt tremors wrack my body.

  Considering my words with a ghost of a smile on his lips, he responded slowly, like he was delighting in his words. I swallowed hard, waiting for her to translate and hating how fucking cocky he looked. This felt all wrong to me. This guy wasn’t one bit rattled by my father, by my words, by anything.

  What the fuck does he want from me?!

  Tearing my eyes away from him, I stared up at the blonde and waited. She smiled at me and said, “I find that hard to believe when it was your father who sent you to us in the first place.”

  I froze.

  I froze for a very long time.

  Confusion hit me all at once, and I shook my head in disbelief. “Impossible. Look at what I’m wearing,” I snapped, grabbing at the ridiculous fluff of my dress to prove my point. “I was getting married.”

  “To the wrong man,” he replied through her.

  I scoffed, glancing at the two of them like they’d lost their minds. They obviously had. “I was getting married to Tony Esposito, and my father was going to walk me down the aisle before you kidnapped me!”

  “Your father betrayed the Espositos,” he returned just as swiftly through her. “Their strength is waning. The agreement wasn’t suitable anymore.”

  Now I was losing my mind. None of this made sense. I would have known if that was the case! Why put me in a goddamn wedding dress in the first place?!

  I leaned forward, scared to shit but uncaring when I growled at him, “You kidnapped me! I fail to see how that was a part of my father’s plan.”

  When the blonde translated, she paused beforehand, her eyes stuck on him as she explained, “It had to look real, or else it would have raised suspicion. It also set a perfect trap, luring them all to the church. It was the perfect opportunity. The Espositos are being wiped out as we speak. Your fiancé fled and is being hunted down. Your father sent you to us to remove you from danger and to put you in the rightful contract. To your rightful husband.”

  It took another moment to absorb their words.

  Rightful contract?

  Rightful husband?

  Breathless and weak, I sputtered out, “Who?”

  Though I knew the answer already, and I felt weak in the knees.

  His lips went flat. His stare was impenetrable, his eyes steelier than before. He didn’t even respond to me.

  He didn’t have to.

  The blonde let out a soft sigh and, directing her gaze at me, she said, “You’re staring at him.”

  There was a pause in my life right then I couldn’t adequately describe. It was maybe three seconds tops, but it stretched on for me. In that time, I didn’t ask myself any questions. My brain was mute. I imagined it taking a step back, going, “Whoa, whoa, Liv, baby, the ball is in your court. This is too fucking weird for me.” Even my body had gone quiet, like a gentle surrender. For that insanely brief moment, I wanted to laugh. What a fucking joke my life had become. It was funny, really. This was something not even my brain was capable of processing, but my body was catching up.

  I was nervous.

  I was shaking

  I was on the verge of an anxiety attack.

  I was also bursting with adrenaline.

  I was staring at my future husband, and the wires in my head went poof.

  Now that I knew what was at play here, I felt relieved… and a little bold. I knew they weren’t going to torture me, or behead me, or rape me. I wasn’t a form of revenge. If what they said was true – and I had a strong feeling it was – I was just an asset delivered to the new owner, and it fucking killed me.

  I fisted my hands and angry tears pricked at my eyes. I could go along with this. Or…

  “I’m not going to marry you,” I said slowly, my teeth clenched as I bore my angry eyes at him. “You can go fuck yourself.”

  Even the blonde went still before translating. She looked a little nervous doing it, which did little to help my nerves. I knew I was playing with fire. The guy looked like he ate kids for breakfast, and here I was, swearing him off.

  His expression still didn’t change. I didn’t know if that was good or worse, but I did catch the tiniest movement of his head tilting to the side. His eyes went darker, scarily so. He didn’t respond to me for some time. The room was thick with silence, the tension immeasurably building by the second. Then, he looked up at blondie, and motioned his head to the door. She was being dismissed.

  Why was my translator being dismissed?

  Her eyes widened, and she stared at him questioningly. But she wasn’t stupid. She didn’t talk back at him. No, that was what dumb idiots like me did. And now she was leaving me alone with the tank.

  Fuck.

  Shit.

  Fuck.

  She took off a beat later, and my eyes hardly landed on the door shutting when he stood up from his chair.

  My heart skyrocketed.

  He took a step toward me. I scooted all the way back in bed, not stopping until my back was flush against the wall. He took another step forward, speaking to me harshly, saying words I didn’t know. But I could tell he was pissed, and what right did he have to be pissed? I was the one being pawned off! I was the one without a say! And goddammit, I wasn’t going to go down without a fight this time.

  “I’m not marrying you,” I repeated, sharper this time. “I think you can understand that, can’t you?” He said something else. “I don’t know what you’re saying!” I yelled, ignoring the way his body moved toward me. He wasn’t stopping. “Don’t you fucking touch me.”

  He grabbed me suddenly by the leg and pulled me harshly down the bed. It was so abrupt, I felt whiplash. His strength startled me. It was nothing like Green Eyes. It was more.


  Much more.

  I went to scream when he wrapped his hand around my neck, and that was it. I was lost. Terrified again. I could hardly get air in my lungs as I watched him lean over me, his giant frame covering me. His face neared mine, the tie around his hair loosened and thick tendrils fell around his face, hitting mine. He stared into my eyes, inches from me, close enough his breaths mingled with mine.

  His hand hadn’t tightened, it was just sitting there around my neck. Like a symbol. Of power. Of my fear. Of anything he wanted it to be.

  Tears fell from my eyes, but I couldn’t stop myself from glaring back at him. My resistance was still there, lingering around the edges of my being, enough for him to see.

  He made a noise in the back of his throat, and his eyes lightened, like he was enjoying this. It left as quick as it came though, the indifference – the boredom – returning. He let go and straightened his body. His head turned to the window for a second, and I took that second to look him over. He was too big to fight off. The power in his hand alone stopped me in my tracks.

  I was fucked.

  He glanced at me briefly, and there I lay, a passing fancy. A crack in the sidewalk you step over or walk on. I felt invisible all over again.

  Without another word, he turned around and left.

  I didn’t move for hours.

  Eight

  Liv

  It was pitch black, and my eyes were averted to the barred window where the only form of light was the starry sky. I could still hear men kicking about, quietly talking not far from where I lay.

  My fingers traced over my neck. His touch still lingered. I was still shaking, unsure of what it meant exactly. Was he warning me? Threatening me? Or proving a point? Maybe it was all those things. All I knew was I was trapped with no exit. So long as I was in this hell, I was at his mercy.

  I couldn’t sleep. My mind was racing. My life was changing right before my eyes, again.

  Frustration and anger swirled within me. I was supposed to be married to Tony! Tony was predictable. He was a dog, but a dog I had spent months examining. I knew what to expect from Tony. I was aware of all his wicked ways, and I had mentally prepared myself to deal with them. I had found out his weaknesses. I knew what his triggers were. Most importantly, I knew how to fight back.

  But this man…

  I knew nothing about him. I had a feeling I might not be so lucky either.

  He was exactly the kind of man my father would have wanted by his side. But even I hardly believed that was what happened. I knew great power when I saw it, and this man trumped my father in all kinds of ways. It was in his presence. The way his eyes could look and dictate your next move without you asking. I saw it in blondie. I was sure the rest of his men were the same.

  How do you accomplish something like that? What depravities must he have faced, or committed, to be this way? I didn’t want to know.

  Reaper. I’d heard them call him by that name twice now. Reaper, like…Grim Reaper? Had I just talked back to a man named after the personification of death?

  I shivered and stopped thinking about it straightaway. Instead, I found myself remembering the window in my mom’s apartment. The way I stood by it, staring out into the streets, waiting for someone to wave at me.

  There were two forms of loneliness in my life. The first, the deep ache to be wanted, to have someone close to you and share your burdens in life with. The second, having no voice in a world that dictated your every move.

  I was starting to feel myself snapping under the weight of all this. My sanity was being drained to the final drop. My life was a toy placed in the hands of vicious men who used it as they pleased.

  The saddest part of this was I still wanted to live.

  Nine

  Christy

  Reaper couldn’t be fucking serious.

  By the firepit, she stared at the room the girl was in. She’d come close enough to hear her move several times. And she’d fucking delivered her food.

  Since when had she become the fucking servant?

  To be dismissed like she was nothing more than one of his fucking men! And to have to watch the way he moved to her, locking his hand around her throat, like he needed her to obey. Like it fucking mattered! She was nothing more than a business deal. He didn’t need her goddamn approval.

  “You look unhinged standing here,” said Logan, stopping beside her, following her gaze. “It looks weird.”

  “You know what’s weird?” she retorted. “Bringing this bitch into our business. He could have sent her to a resort and had her sippin’ her goddamn fruity drinks poolside. Now, we have to please this la-dee-da bitch?”

  “To be fair, she handled the journey like a real sport. Should have seen the way she looked at me too. She was fucking pissed, but she didn’t cry a single tear. Bitch has balls, and you should hear her swear. Jesus, I didn’t know mafia royalty had spunky women. They were right about her.”

  Christy turned to glare at him. “You’re missing the point.”

  “Your point is she shouldn’t be here.”

  “Not while we’re finishing up. We can’t trust this bitch.”

  “She can’t see shit where she is.”

  “She doesn’t need to.”

  “Yeah, well, this ain’t our business, is it? Are you marrying her? No. So, get over it, Chris. We got bigger things to worry about than wondering what the hell Reaper’s thinking right now.”

  “You’re still missing the point.”

  He looked exasperated. “What the hell is the point?”

  “The point is we’re sneaking around the place like we’ve got shackles around our legs. Don’t you understand? He doesn’t trust her.”

  “No,” he disagreed. “He doesn’t trust her people.”

  “Then he should have killed the whole lot.”

  “He didn’t want to do that.”

  “Don’t you want to know why?”

  He sighed and ran a hand through his head as he levelled her with a solemn look. “You’re not supposed to question Reaper’s motives. He knows what he’s doing. Has he let us down once?”

  She didn’t bother responding. He still didn’t understand. Reaper wasn’t the kind of man to bend over backwards for a girl. He could have set her up somewhere nobody would ever find her. He didn’t have to go through the hassle of bringing her prissy ass here. He didn’t even mention her once over the weeks leading up to her wedding. Not until recently, and the way everyone blew up about it was ridiculous. She was nothing special. She was irrelevant. What did it fucking matter where she was?

  She was everything Christy thought she would be coming here. The second she saw that ridiculous fluffy dress, she knew the kind of girl she was. Her face was inches thick with make-up. Her skin fucking glowed with whatever shit these rich bitches treated themselves with. She was the kind of beautiful you saw in those magazines. Fake. Tanned. Manicured. Fuck, Christy saw herself from years back in her. The old self she shed and no longer respected. The fake nice that made her soul die every time she had to shine someone her fake ass smile.

  She was the pampered kind of girl Reaper would never look twice at.

  So why was he looking twice at her?

  Ten

  Liv

  I woke up in the early morning to something crawling up my arm. I opened my eyes slowly, dozing as I took in something yellow and fuzzy, with too many legs to count, crawling along my inner arm. At first, it was a slow wake up. I felt like I was half-dreaming, half-awake. But the more conscious I grew, the more I felt the legs running up my skin. My eyes flipped open, making contact with the fuzzy, yellow thing.

  A monstrous looking thing.

  A disgusting looking thing!

  My heart jumped to my throat.

  I shrieked at the top of my lungs, rolling off the bed. I shot to my feet, running my hand down my arm, flicking off whatever the hell it was. Then I fled to the other side of the room and stared at it quickly crawling across the floor. I shudde
red, feeling a wave of disgust wash over me.

  What the hell was it?

  I’d never seen anything like it in my life.

  Andres’ face appeared at my window, looking alarmed and tentative. He scanned the room in alert, and then he dropped his gaze to the insect I was still glaring at. With a more amused face, he called out something behind him, and raucous laughter followed.

  Assholes.

  “Princesa,” he remarked, tears of laughter running down his cheeks.

  Seething, I rushed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me. I could still hear their laughter. A hot wave of anger hit me. I fucking hated this place. I didn’t get out until it died down, and even then, I waited longer. Humiliation was a bitch of a thing, wounding me more than I would have liked to admit.

  Princesa.

  I’d slept with cockroaches crawling over my body. I’d had mice scurrying past my head. I’d shared a tent with a disturbed old lady that viewed me as her pet. I’d even slept next to my dead mother’s body for two days. But sure, call me Princesa. What did I care anymore?

  I washed my inner arm with the crippled soap, trying to rid the sensation of that nasty thing. I brushed my teeth with the toothbrush the blondie had dropped off with the tiny travel size toothpaste. I brushed hard, wondering what Sonja was up to, and whether she was secretly locked inside a dungeon too with nothing but a tray of food, yellow fuzzy insect beasts crawling over her, and a marriage contract to a jungle man.

  Just thinking of marriage again made me feel stifled in this wedding dress. In futile, I struggled to unbutton my wedding dress from behind, knowing it wasn’t going to work without someone’s help. And I’d sooner eat rusted nails than ask for help around here. The dress was staying on so long as my stubbornness continued, and that meant forever at this rate.