After taking her from her home and killing her parents, which was already bad enough, we brought her to a hotel … and when I went out for a few minutes, he touched her.
He put his filthy hands on her … how could I not have seen? How could I not have been there to stop him?
In my anger, I immediately decided to go to his house and kill him.
It wasn’t quick, and it was certainly painful.
My first kill in years … yet I don’t regret a thing.
I’m glad the motherfucker is dead.
I ripped his heart out from his chest, but he deserved much, much worse.
Entry 14
In an effort to stop her from falling for me, I pushed ahead with the plan. I purchased the boy from The Lady and brought him into our home. Unfortunately, the price was high, and I had to use her for it. I hated betraying her, but I had no other choice. He is part of it just as much as she is … two sides of the same coin … two stars on my back … two violent stars in the night sky constantly reminding me of what I’ve done.
Their existence only proves how bad I am.
I guess the tumor coming back was only a way for the universe to tell me exactly that.
Karma’s a bitch.
I deserve it all.
Entry 15
The boy has been trained to serve his mistress as a bodyguard, and I know just what to do with it. I want him to train the girl so she’ll learn to stand on her own two feet. I told them it was because I have many enemies, but I doubt they will ever go after the two. If there’s anyone they want dead, it’s me, not them. But I don’t want Ava and Daniel to think it’s all for nothing. The training helps her to feel more confident in her own skin, I can see it from the way she glows when he teaches her.
They seem to like each other, and I can’t help but feel jealous. I shouldn’t be, but I am. Somehow, in the process of trying to get her accustomed to the real world again, I’ve grown to love her too much, and I know it will mean my end.
I wonder if they’ll end up together. They probably will. I can already see their affection growing; it’s happening right in front of me. It’s beautiful, unstoppable, and frightening at the same time because I know that the boy isn’t like her. He defies me, constantly, and he feels the need to prove himself to her. One day, he’ll prove that I’m a liar. I just know it.
And when that day comes … I hope I will be ready.
Entry 16
I love her.
I always have.
From the moment she stepped into my doorway, I knew she was going to love me too. And I knew she would be the death of me.
I guess it’s only fitting. After what I did to the two of them, I don’t expect anything else in return.
I know they’re going to hate me for what I’ve done. I don’t blame them either. It was just meant to be.
My only hope is that, once I’m gone, they’ll take care of each other. That they’ll love each other as much as I loved her, and that they’ll work for one another just as I worked for them.
I gave the boy the key to my secrets tonight.
She doesn’t even know I’m sick because I didn’t want her to feel bad … but she’ll know now. I know he’ll tell her and then come looking for more. But I am ready.
The entries end.
“It stopped?” Daniel mutters.
I nod, but I’m not sad.
All of this … he was right, it explains everything.
And now, I finally know what those tattoos meant.
When I attempt to close the book, something in the shape of a small square drops out. A folded note.
I pick it up and open it.
I am ready. I don’t fear death anymore thanks to you both. I felt your love, and I hope you felt mine. Not just Ava but Daniel too. In my own way, I cherished you both. And I don’t blame you.
Don’t feel guilty for hating me. Don’t be mad at me for dying.
Please forget the man who took you … remember me as the man who saved you.
That man is the true me. That man who smiled at you when you laughed, that man who loved to watch you cook and clean, secretly hoping you would one day love him, not as a servant, but as an equal. That same man who vowed to set you free, even if it was against your own wishes.
I hope that, wherever you are now, you feel free.
I will always be here, watching, wishing you live out a long and happy life.
Love each other as I loved life.
That’s the only thing that matters.
Love.
xoxo,
Marcus
A tear runs down my cheeks as I lean into Daniel. He wraps his arm around me and holds me tight as I fold the note again.
“He loved us both. And I know now … he wasn’t that man who took us from our homes. That wasn’t him. It was his job that made him do that, but underneath all of the bad … he was a good human being.”
“Yes … and he saved us,” Daniel says. “He saved us both and gave us a better life.”
Tucking the small note back into the book, I wipe away my tears and whisper, “Thank you.”
Thank you for everything.
Thank you for setting me free.
But above all … thank you for loving me.
Epilogue
Ava
Two years later
Junior runs around in our room with his arms spread wide, pretending he’s an airplane. I laugh as he crashes into the bed and falls facedown, making a splashing sound.
“You sure do love airplanes, don’t you?”
“Love them!”
I honestly don’t know where he gets his energy from, but it wasn’t from me. Still, it makes me smile, knowing that his daddy is still very much present in him, even though he isn’t here in the flesh.
That’s why Daniel and I named him Junior, short for Marcus Jr. To remember the man who brought him into this world.
We know for sure Marcus is his dad now, as we got both of them tested.
I thought Daniel would be mad when he found out, but he wasn’t. He actually seemed pleased, which was a relief.
“I got another airplane from Daddy today!” Marcus Jr says. “Wanna see?”
“Of course! I’ll come down in a minute and have a look, okay honey?” I say.
“Okay, I’ll be waiting downstairs,” Marcus Jr. says, and he runs to the door and slams it behind him before rushing downstairs.
I chuckle again.
“What’s so funny, Mommy?” Isabel asks me.
“Oh, just your brother, he always gets so excited. I can’t wait until he finds out we’re going to the airplane museum this weekend.”
“Really?” she says, turning her head.
“Yes but stay still!” I say, pushing her head back. “Otherwise, you’ll mess up your hair.”
“Sorry,” she mumbles.
“Don’t say sorry. Remember, we only say sorry if it’s something really important, and this isn’t it.” I pull strings of her curly, red hair into small pigtails.
“Okay …” She lets out a short laugh. “Mommy, why do I have red hair while Junior has brown hair?”
I stop with braiding for a second. “Well, sometimes it happens that two people are very different, even if they have the same mother.”
“Very different … because we have a different father?”
I already told them this long ago. I didn’t want to keep any secrets, and I don’t believe it’s needed. Marcus isn’t something I feel ashamed about and neither should they.
“Yes … but it makes you both all the more special,” I whisper in her ear. “Because you have two daddies who loved you dearly.”
“But only one is here.”
“Exactly. But just because your other daddy isn’t here doesn’t mean he didn’t love you. Plus, he’s not really gone.” I finish her braid with an elastic hair band.
She glances at me over her shoulder. “Where is he then?”
I smile at her and then poke h
er chest where her heart is. “Right here.”
“Inside me?” she gasps.
“Both your daddies are inside you … But they’re also in your mind. You only need to think about them, and then they’ll be with you.”
“Really?”
“Really,” I say, and I put her down from my lap. “Now, go play with your brother.”
She runs off as quickly as she came, and I let out a sigh.
It surprises me how much they’ve grown.
How much I’ve adapted to the world.
Our life is finally beginning to make sense.
And I’m sure Marcus would be so damn proud of us all.
But after our conversation, I can’t help but wonder if Marcus truly is watching us from above. If he is, I think he loves these little kids just as much. I just wish he were here to witness them grow up.
The scars on my body and heart have healed, even though they’re still visible. Sometimes, my kids ask about them, but maybe one day, when they’re all grown up, I’ll tell them about the origin of my scars … and about the brave man who healed them.
The heartache and sorrow went away, but I never forget the loss, and that’s okay. We learn to live without our loved ones. We learn to move on. And in time, we even learn to smile when thinking about them.
Something nagging in the back of my mind makes me lean over and pull out the box from underneath the bed. I’ve not seen it in such a long time that dust has collected on the lid. I blow it off and open it. Not much is left inside. We took out all the money and the papers until only the notebook and letter were left, which I’ve cherished ever since. They’re my secret treasures.
I take it out and look at it, and then I hold it close to my heart. It still fills me with warmth, even after all these years.
In my time as a servant, I lived for another.
Now, I live for myself … and for the loves of my life.
My little girl and boy, and Daniel … for them, I broke all the rules.
And I regret it not even a single second.
I put the box on the bed, but apparently, not steady enough because it drops to the floor.
It’s then that I hear something, like a stack of papers being shaken.
Frowning, I pick up the box and check the inside. There’s nothing to see, but a small piece of loose carton catches my attention. I pull it out, and the bottom of the box comes loose.
In shock and with parted lips, I pull out the bottom only to reveal more hidden papers.
What is this?
I take them out and read them.
Numbers after numbers on end, pages filled with info about different companies, including photos and elaborate descriptions of their location and the people who work there, including all the jobs they ever fulfilled.
The exact companies Marcus worked with before he passed away.
Is this … what I think it is?
There’s another note attached, which I tear off and read.
To Ava,
This is all the info you will ever need about the companies I worked with. All the files of each division have been compiled into these papers, and now, I want to give them to you.
They ruined my life, and in turn, I ruined yours. I wanted to crush them but knew I wouldn’t survive to see it happen.
But you could.
You can tuck these papers back into the box and pretend they never existed. Or you can go to the media and the police and expose the truth … the choice is yours.
You do what you think is best.
After all, this is your life, and I’d want you to live it the way you felt was right.
Love,
Marcus
A shiver runs through my spine as I lower the papers and stare ahead.
The choice is mine.
But I don’t have to think about it.
The moment I laid my eyes on them and realized the information they contained, I already knew my own choice.
I smile as I hear footsteps coming up the stairs and bright orange hair appears in the doorway. I look up into his blue eyes. An all-too-familiar smile meets mine.
I know exactly what I have to do.
###
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***
Also by Clarissa Wild
Read about the DeLucas in TWENTY-ONE (21):
21 years
On her 21st birthday, she’s taken. Collected by a rich family as an unpaid debt. Her body sold. Her mind his.
21 weeks
For 21 weeks, she carried a burden no girl should ever have to carry. Now, she loses her freedom to a man born to destroy her.
21 days
His name: Angel DeLuca. His mission: To break her in 21 days before she sees through his lies. But she won’t give up without a fight.
21 minutes
It takes only 21 minutes for their lives to be forever entwined.
21 seconds
21 seconds to spill. Time is running out.
Secrets ruin them … but not all truths are worth the price.
This is a STANDALONE Dark Romance novel. WARNING: contains explicit situations, graphic violence, and other disturbing content some readers may find offensive.
Read it now!
Or read an excerpt below.
***
Prologue
Angel
My name might be Angel, but I’m far from a saint.
In fact, I’m a fucking killing machine.
I was born and bred for one purpose; murdering those who stand in the way of Cosa Nostra.
I know nothing other than blood and vengeance. This is what I live for, and what I’d die for if it were up to my father. If it were up to me … well, let’s just say I enjoy the benefits enough to continue doing what I do best.
Kill.
I pace around in the pig’s cell, tossing a knife in my hand, careful not to let the blade touch my skin. His screams pierce my ears, but they won’t wipe the smile off my face. The bound pig who’s just pissed all over the chair is much too amusing.
“Did you have to piss that badly?” I ask, laughing. “Maybe I should’ve let you out for a break, huh?”
The pig repeatedly nods as sweat drips down his red and bloody face. His hands shiver, or at least, what’s left of them. Maybe two or three fingers.
“Or should I chop the rest of your fingers off just for wetting the floor?”
This makes him screech out loud.
I’m so glad I stuffed his mouth with his own underwear. I can’t be bothered with listening to his sad cries. I’m not here to feel pity, nor am I interested in what he has to say.
He’s the asshole who ratted me out to the police using that picture of my license plate. Instead of keeping his mouth shut and stopping our family from prosecution, he decided it would be best to expose my little operation. Suffice to say that he didn’t get to enjoy the benefits too long.
He thought the police would offer him protection. Instead, my father bribed them so they’d hand him over to us. Personally. Like a fucking roasted apple-stuffed pig offered on a platter.
His ass belongs to me now. Literally. I think I should just hang it on my wall, like a fucking trophy. It’s what he deserves.
He pisses me off, that’s what. I walk toward the guy and hold out my knife close to his eye.
“Or maybe I should take your eye instead? You know … an eye for an eye or something.”
He shakes his head vehemently, tears running down his bloody cheeks.
“Seriously? You’re gonna cry like a fucking pussy now?” I punch him in the face with my fist and make sure to hold the knife on the other side where his head flings. The
laceration it creates from left to right across his nose makes him whelp.
I shake my head at his pitiful appearance.
“Please …” he murmurs into the cloth.
“What?” I lean in, grabbing his chin so I can take a good look at him. “You think begging me will help you?” I growl. “You should have thought of that before you became a rat. Too late, motherfucker.” I cut into his hand for good measure. “Not much left of this now, is there?” I muse, looking at his sad three little fingers. “Should I let you keep these?”
“Yes!” he says.
“Hmm … but that wouldn’t be much fun now, would it?” I say.
And then I cut another one off.
There is no rhyme or reason to what I’m doing.
Hell, I don’t even feel anything while I’m carving this pig.
Maybe that makes me fucked up in the head, but hey, what can you do? I was born like this, and I don’t see anything wrong with getting revenge on the fucker who took my freedom away from me.
He thinks he still has a chance. That he can beg his way out of this.
Too bad, he doesn’t realize that ain’t how this organization works.
He took the Omertà. He knew what it meant.
Break the silence and you die.
Pick a fight with me, and you get a slow and painful death added on top of your sentence.
It’s my job either to intimidate and shake down a victim for information or to kill. It depends on what the job entails. We get them from clients who hire our company to do their filthy work. I don’t mind because I get a kick out of every kill I make.
I step away from the pig and watch him quiver in his seat before I throw another knife at him.
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