by Rose Harper
I look at him as he says, “You know, I have a hard time telling you and your brother apart. He was a sniveling coward, too. Always crying, never up to par. Looks like I should have just abstained rather than bring two worthless individuals into this world. Mark my words, Carina, you will be what I want you to be.” He points a solitary finger at me. “Or I will take you out of this world myself.”
Gathering myself up from the ground, I reluctantly take the same route he did up the stairs just moments before. My eyes flick to my room, an overpowering need blazing over me to run in that direction instead of following my father. But I just barely resist the urge and continue my trek up the stairs. The only thing I need is to be put in the hole my father likes to threaten me with. I have to stay as free as possible, so I can hopefully get out of here when he goes to bed.
So, I can finally be free.
3
CARINA
Ten-Years-Old.
I’d like to say I’m thinking about what my father will do when he notices my absence in the morning, as I trek up the stairs and into the kitchen. However, it’s the farthest thing from my mind when I come to a stop in the doorway of the kitchen. There my father is, no longer brisk and angry, but smiling. Smiling at nothing in particular.
Instantly, I have this since of foreboding. A breath of fear races up my spine I can’t ignore. I see his right-hand man, Rossi, beside him with the same maniacal smile stretched across his face.
“Come, I have something to show you,” my father states in a sugary sweet voice.
Nothing could have scared me more at this moment than thinking about what he could possibly “gift” me. But like a good daughter, I follow the rules and trail after him as he walks back down the stairs toward the basement. Except instead of making a right, we turn left, heading toward my room. A quizzical look passes my features, causing me to look back over my shoulder at Rossi, who pushes me forward harshly.
“Keep moving, little girl.”
We head down another flight of stairs into the wine cellar—a place I’ve never been before—and stop our descent as Rossi pushes past me to speak with my father in hushed tones. I lean forward, trying to overhear what they’re talking about, but can’t make anything out but rambling. Worry starts settling in my bones as my eyes drift around the sights around me.
The wine cellar we have is huge, easily the size of a local department store. It smells of aged oak and cedar barrels—not to mention, the floor-to-ceiling wine bottle racks that are stocked with the rarest and most expensive wines and champagnes money can buy. This is my mother’s favorite room in the house. I’m never allowed in here for fear I’ll break something, so it only piques the question of why my father is allowing me to be in here now.
My father and Rossi talk amongst themselves, each taking turns to stare over at me. They’re laughing about something, which has my guard firmly up and locked in place. It’s a complete shift from his mood when we were in the basement training, and I’m itching to ask him why. Daniel Ricci is never one to change emotions so easily. So the fact that his mood has changed so drastically instantly raises my hackles.
After nodding toward me, Rossi walks in my direction, menace lining each step. His hands beg me to run so he can give chase and destroy me, but his eyes dare me to stay where I am like I don’t have the balls to handle whatever it is they’re going to throw at me. It doesn’t matter what it is they have to show me, I’ve already seen it all. There’s nothing they can do to surprise me now.
As we push our way into the cellar, I come to a dead stop when I see a figure tied to a chair, slumped over. An old bloody cloth bag rests over his head, the fluid clearly fresh because it hasn’t yet darkened with age. It’s still vividly red, like may of the wines in this very room. An uneasy feeling settles into the pit of my stomach as I continue to stare at the man. Turning my head, I gaze at the shiny implements of torture surrounding the individual on trays so clean you could eat off them.
“Here you go, dear daughter, just for you,” my father says, holding his hand out toward the hooded figure like he’s just given me the world.
Tears come to my eyes as understanding rushes to the surface. Turning toward him, I hold my hand out toward the figure, whispering, “Who is this?” I start to panic, shaking my head furiously from side to side. “I can’t do this, I’m not ready.” I mean, I knew this day would come, but I didn’t think it was going to be this soon.
The smile he’s sporting suddenly takes on a whole new level of shine. “Oh, dear girl … did you think you could fool this old man?” he asks, shaking his head. “I mean, I thought you would have figured you couldn’t by now, but alas, you never do pay enough attention. Well, you know what? We will remedy that issue tonight.” He makes his way across the floor, closing in ever so slowly on the bleeding person in the chair.
The instant I saw everything inside this room, I knew what tonight was. This man—whoever he is—is to be my first. Father’s fantasized about this night for years. Really, since he started training me. Always telling me how ruthless I will be; how sure my blade will cut as they mark along my victim’s flesh.
How emotionless he will be able to make me.
That’s been his main objective since the moment he started this endeavor. He wants me to be emotionless, so when I start my missions, I won’t blink at the thought of slitting anyone’s throat—of snuffing out a life without rhyme or reason.
I don’t get it. I really don’t. I cry if I accidentally kill a moth, trying to get it outside before it dies in my gentle hands. He wants me to kill a human being when I can’t even stay in one piece over such a minuscule insect? No can do, and he’s going to see that tonight.
When my father gets to the hooded person, lifting the bag, everything stops around me.
The air leaves my body as I fall to my knees on the hard, unforgiving concrete. It’s been years, but I will never forget those eyes.
“Daddy … no,” I beg as the tears start streaming down my face in earnest.
My hazel eyes … the ones that look so similar to the sad, swollen ones staring back at me from a battered and broken face.
Brother …
I take in the damage already done, my heart breaking inside my chest. From the almost swollen shut eyes to the open gashes on his cheek and brow bone, I feel my soul slowly cowering in on itself.
“Yes, my darling girl. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find out that you and your brother were planning to skip town? Even though he left, Carina, I’ve had my eyes on him the entire goddamn time! I knew from the beginning what you all had planned!” he shouts, bending to get right in my face.
I stay on the ground, hoping and praying he changes his mind and lets my brother go. He did nothing wrong—only tried helping me get out of a situation no child should be put through. He was only being a loving figure, trying to protect me. I won’t do this. No matter how much my father hurts me. No matter how many days I have to go to bed without dinner, human contact—anything he can possibly conjure up—I will not kill my brother. Even the thought leaves me hurting so much I want to vomit.
“You walked around every day, believing you had this old man fooled. You were planning to leave, weren’t you? Answer me!” he screams, approaching me. Swinging his arm, his hand slaps me again, causing my face to explode in white blinding pain.
“You can’t do this! I did nothing wrong! Jesus fucked up Christ!”
I’m taken aback by the rough sounding voice that leaves my brother. Like his size and build, his voice has changed over the years, almost becoming unrecognizable. If I didn’t see his eyes, I would say this wasn’t my brother, and my father was playing a cruel trick on me, but I know even my father isn’t smart enough for that.
I look at him, with blood oozing down his face, but when my eyes come to rest on his, I know without a doubt—he’s my brother.
He’s so weak I can see his head bobbing from the weight of holding it up, making me cry harder. To his last bre
ath, my brother would do anything to try to protect me. The only reason he was gone so long before making contact was to get everything in order. No longer having the connections Daniel Ricci brought to the table, he had to start from scratch, realigning himself with less than stellar connections.
“You can say what you like, but I know it was your plan, you coward. Always shucking your responsibilities, never pulling your own weight. But I’m glad you did, because—”
“No!” I scream, jumping up from the floor. “You can’t make me do this. I won’t hurt him.”
I’m so mad I see red. There’s no way I will complete this task, so he may as well get that out of his head. What’s he going to do, make me grip the utensil himself?
“Ah, there it is,” my father says with pride, confusing me.
Staring daggers at him, I allow my eyes to flick away from him to see where Rossi is in the room. When I peg his location, I use that godforsaken training my father has made me endure to go through each scenario of taking both of them out and saving my brother and myself.
“There’s my girl,” he says, grinning from ear to ear. Walking up to me, I ready myself for anything when he pinches my chin between his forefinger and thumb, studying the split in my lip he made earlier. “There’s the fire I knew you always had. You’re a killer, Carina. It’s time to accept your fate.”
Looking over his shoulder at my brother, he says, “She has it in spades, you know, and that’s what I must make her harness. You will be the catalyst that makes her welcome it. If I can achieve that, she will be unstoppable.”
“I. Won’t. Do it,” I seethe at him with an ironclad timbre in my voice.
He looks down at me, his eyes settling on mine and smiles. He freaking smiles while shaking his head back and forth.
“You don’t have a choice.” Releasing me, he walks back to my brother, who is watching us with rapt attention.
Looking at me, our father picks up a pair of surgical pliers. “If you don’t do as I say,” he states before placing my brother’s knuckle between the tines of the pliers. “I’ll do it myself, and I’ll make you watch as I take him apart. It makes no never mind to me,” he says right before a distinct cracking sound reverberates through the room. My brother starts wailing in pain, and I look down and realize my father just crunched one of his joints, his finger now flattened from the pressure.
“He’s your blood. You love him! You can’t do this to him,” I plea.
“Fuck!” my brother screams in agony, jolting in the chair. “I didn’t do it!”
I beg for my brother’s life with everything I have in me over and over, but it falls on deaf ears. In all the screaming and crying, from both me and him, my father’s actions never falter. He continues on with his torment, hoping he’ll break me before he breaks my brother. When he faints, my father simply brings him back with smelling salts, only to deliver more untold agonies. The whole time I watch and cry, feeling the phantom pains of what my brother is going though, seeing him pleading me with his eyes to just end it all.
It’s something so out of character for my brother, I can’t fathom the look when I see it continuously tossed my way. Before he left, he was never this … broken, battered, weak. He was strong, almost ferociously so. If I weren’t staring at him now, seeing this for my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it. I mean, how could I? My brother has been nothing but fierce in my eyes since the day I started retaining my memories.
“This is all your doing! Your punishment for defying me! Now you can either do this, Carina, or I will!”
I realize at that moment that I hate my father, and one day, I’ll make him pay for this.
“Please,” I hear my brother whisper.
Standing there with blood dripping down my blade and my heart in complete ruins, my brother’s last words from our phone call three nights ago plays through my head on a never-ending cycle—I love you, sister—always and forever.
I longed for those whispered words when I had finally taken the blade that was going to be used on him. Longed to hear him say he loved me just one more time. My father was dead set on pealing the skin from him right in front of me. All because I tried to leave him and this life behind.
I knew by the look on Luca’s face, there was no way he would be able to withstand our father’s treatment any longer. So, I did the only thing I could do, even though it killed me inside.
I stopped my father with a hand around his wrist and fought for control when my brother begged me to be the one to kill him. Said he just wanted to go home, and he was so sorry. As much as it killed me, I gave him what he wanted. I kissed his cheek, told him I loved him, then sliced across his jugular. Within seconds, the person I loved most in this world was gone. Snuffed out as if he never existed, and it was all because of me.
I back up, looking at my brother as a new resolve starts slithering its way into my very core when the one man in the world I truly hate comes to lay his hand on my shoulder. “See, my dear, it was easy in the end.”
I have enough time to look at him in disbelief before Rossi grabs me from behind. Dropping the knife, I kick and scream as I flail around, hoping to cause his grip to slip. But it’s to no avail, he stands firm in his hold as he starts dragging me from the wine cellar. I haven’t the slightest idea what they’re getting ready to do with me, but for the first time in forever, I am terrified for myself.
What if they’re going to do to me what they did to brother? What if they take me to the hole?
Oh, god … I’d much rather plead death to come to my doorstep than go to that place.
“Please, Daddy, please! I swear I’ll stay. I promise!” I beg and plead with him.
I have a glimpse of my father opening a rusty metal door on the other side of the basement before I’m thrust into it. The first thing that assaults my senses is pain as my entire front crashes into an unforgiving clay dirt wall. God! Kill me! Don’t let me stay in here!
“You stupid girl. Did you honestly think I would take you at your word? How naive do you think I am?”
“Daddy!” I gasp, clawing across the clay mud toward his boots.
“You will stay here until you have learned your lesson to the fullest extent. No fucking emotion! No regret, no love … nothing! From this moment on, you will live and breathe in this fucking place if you don’t follow my rules,” he states acidly, hatred breathing across my face as he glares down at me before turning and striding away, his accomplice fast on his heels.
I start to scream and wail, pushing and pulling on the door. Crying and flailing at the walls with my nails in the hope someone would be able to hear me. My nails begin ripping them from their beds as I continue to claw at the dirt, but no pain can rival the one raking at my chest.
I have to be free.
He … He can’t leave me in here!
I’ll lose everything if I stay in here.
4
MATEO
As I’m trying to figure out this fucking mess Carina, Camille, motherfucking Marco, and I find ourselves in, the door to my office practically bursts in on itself, crashing against the dry wall. Plaster, dust, and debris all fall to the ground as we all jump to our feet. Already reaching for my gun, I stop just short when I see it’s only Vinny with a crazy look in his eyes. Slowly lowering my hand, I cock a brow at him in question.
“What the ever-loving-fuck is that all about, Vin?” I ask, needing an explanation. “You almost got pumped full of lead.”
Panting, his eyes finally land on mine before trekking to every other person in the room. The level of fear rolls off him in waves, but when his eyes come to rest on mine, what I see in them causes my hackles to rise. “She knows.”
“She knows what, exactly?” This cannot be happening right now. Goddammit, I’m still trying to figure this shit out.
“Don’t be coy with me, motherfucker. She knows!” he practically yells, pacing in front of the door.
This could be a slight problem, but what the hell does he expect me t
o do about it? I have things I need to take care of around here, and I don’t have time to hold a murderer’s hand when they finally decide it’s time to come back to reality. Hell, I can barely keep my own head straight on my shoulders sifting through this mess, trying to keep this information as far away from my father as possible.
“You expect me to give a shit?” I ask, rounding my desk, fury lacing my words. “She’s a big girl, and she can clearly take care of herself.”
“Mateo, I could see in the bitch’s eyes that she remembers everything. She was reading American Psycho, for Christ’s sake, and you should have seen the gleam in her eyes.”
Sighing, I round on the men sitting haphazardly in front of my desk, eyes landing on Dom. “Take care of this shit. I have enough on my plate right now, and she doesn’t seem to hate you as much as the rest of us.”
“You mean you, Teo. She hates you. And the fuck with that,” he replies. “I’m not doing your dirty work for you, man. You handle that shit.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I try to ward off an impending headache. This is all I need right now—the fight of my life that could rest until another day.
“Fucking hell,” I murmur, making my way out of my office.
I knew this day was going to come, I just didn’t expect it to be this fast. Yes, there was news that broke out a few days ago that would flip anyone’s lid, but I didn’t expect for it to be the cause to bring back everything she’d lost when I found her in the Riccis’ bathroom. God only knows what I’m going to find when I get up to her room. She’ll probably be waiting on me with a letter opener, frothing at the mouth for a taste of my blood.