by V. F. Mason
Wait, what? Blinking a few times, I spun around to study his facial features, hoping he was joking or just irritating my father, but it wasn't the case.
He was freaking calm! The crazy Russian really believed what he was saying!
Clearly reading my dumbstruck expression, Dad smirked, while several of his people raised their guns higher. “Based on the shock she’s in, it’s news for her as well.” Dom’s focus snapped back to me, and something shifted in his eyes, something I couldn't name but desperately tried to. “And it doesn’t matter, even if she wanted to. You are in my territory, and you will leave, or otherwise I won’t hesitate to order my men to end your life.”
Just as Dad had finished saying the words, three black Mercedes Gelenvagens joined us, and in a flash, seven men with guns in their hands got out led by Vitya. All of them wore suits and stood behind Dominic as a brick wall that would always have his back.
“Doesn’t look like today,” Dom mocked, his voice detached. “Rosa, let’s go.” Apparently, Dom’s unwillingness to listen was enough for Dad, because in an instant, he was beside me with his gun pointed right at Dom’s forehead.
“You don’t listen, regazzo, leave,” my father hissed, calling him a boy.
Dom wrapped his hand around the gun and held it still. “Out of respect for your age and being her father, I’ll let this slide.” A beat, and then he stated, “But point your weapon at me again, and I won’t hesitate to act.” Oh, my God, what was happening?
They both had lost their minds!
“Stop!” My scream snapped their attention to me, both of them studying my reaction as I breathed heavily. I positioned myself between them, right in the middle of the whole mess, and wondered how I ended up in such a situation, and if there even was a solution. My patience finally snapped, and I could see that any second now, this thing would escalate to epic proportions. If it hadn't already. “I don’t want a war. Are you insane? You’d start a gunfight because of me?” Since neither of them bothered to answer, I continued, “Can’t we find a solution?”
Dad smiled for the first time. “There is no solution here, baby girl. It’s either this or the other.” My eyes travelled to Dominic, but he gave me nothing.
Blank freaking stare.
“I don’t want this.” The decision I was about to make would probably ruin my chances of knowing what it was like to feel this powerful man against me again, but I couldn't allow him to hurt my family. The spark we had between us was nothing more than sexual desire, which happens sometimes between people, or so I’d heard. But if it happened once, surely it could happen again with someone else?
Resting my open palm on Dom’s chest, I said quietly, “You have to go.” Everyone around us froze, and from the corner of my eye, I could see men from both mafia houses were confused, and slightly disappointed. Did they want to measure their dicks in a fight? “He’s my dad.” I didn't know why I added this last part. Wasn't I supposed to let him go? Instead, it felt like I explained myself to him.
Like I apologized for my choice.
“Rosa,” Dad barked, but I couldn't keep my eyes away from Dominic’s as he held them in a long stare. Then something passed between us.
Something I still couldn't name, and wasn't sure he could either.
Dominic raised his hand, and all the guns from the Russian side lowered slowly. I didn't miss Vitya’s sigh of relief or the wink he sent my way. Wrapping both his hands around my neck, Dominic brought me closer to his lips. My breath hitched right before his mouth crushed to mine. He gave me a deep and punishing kiss. His tongue seeking mine sent a jolt of electrified pleasure all through my body. Forgetting myself, I wrapped my arms around his waist and an unconscious moan escaped me.
All too soon, it was over, and I blinked a few times to get rid of the haze he had created.
Dominic pushed me back, right into the willing arms of my dad, and then without another word to anyone, he sat in the car as his men followed his example and did the same. One by one, the cars disappeared, leaving me standing alone with my ‘family.’
Only then, my mind registered the chilly weather sending goose bumps down my naked arms, and I rubbed them, hoping to get warm.
“It’s for the best,” Dad said quietly, and he was probably right.
Why then did it hurt so much that he left me without a backward glance? And why, God, did my lips burn as though he branded me with his claim, right in front of everyone again?
Man with the dragon tattoo
Well, well, well.
Trouble in paradise.
The combustive explosion that happened between the two mafia houses was interesting to watch. I expected Don to agree to such a good candidate for his daughter, but his flat-out refusal played well into my plan.
The pakhan wasn’t known for giving up or doing as he was told.
Whatever it took, I had to antagonize a war between them. Because once they were totally focused on fighting each other, neither of them would notice their precious Rosa was snatched from right under their noses.
And by the time they did, it would be too late. I would’ve already cut up her little body piece by piece, after I enjoyed torturing it thoroughly.
A sinister smile slowly stretched across my face as I enjoyed thoughts of what was to come.
Revenge, motherfuckers.
My eyelids felt heavy. Dizziness overtook me. Fear ran through every bone in my body. My arm had fallen asleep and desperately demanded to be stretched.
I lay on the bed with a blanket over my shoulders, as the night was quite chilly and this place didn't seem to have a heater. Maybe those violent men didn't want to waste it on me.
My arm was under my head and my knees pulled up to my chest. Every minute, I expected him to walk in. The knife was safely between the bed and me, ready to be taken out the minute someone showed up.
No matter how much I willed myself to calm down, I couldn't, so the trembling wouldn't stop. My teeth chattered against each other, and I burrowed my face deeper under the covers. An owl sounded in the background in the otherwise silent night, which made me think we had to be outside of town in some kind of forest. The image of Snow White came to me, where she was running in the forest like crazy when the Huntsman took her there to die and she couldn't find a way out. With my luck, those ‘huntsmen’ wouldn't take pity on me, and the nice animals of the forest wouldn't have any chance of getting me out of this mess.
How the hell could I escape from here? Why didn't being a princess of the Cosa Nostra come with a handbook of instructions on how to handle certain situations? If we had such traditions, then maybe our fathers wouldn't have to be so afraid of letting us leave.
Before I could dwell on it more, the door opened and Erik stumbled inside, laughing. “Rosa.” He smiled; the bright light in the hallway almost blinded me as it shone right in my face. “Time to have some fun. Father has finally allowed me to have my way with you.”
His walk was wobbly as he stumbled again, and then he straightened up. He ripped open his shirt—this time a dark one—and pushed down his pants, and got out of them, toeing off his black leather shoes in the process. “Have to admit I wasn't into fucking you until you fought me a few hours ago.” He licked his lips, taking a huge sip from his whiskey bottle. “Can’t wait to finally break you.” He plunged onto the bed, spilling the bottle in the process. At once, the smell of expensive whiskey floated in the air, but the action only made him laugh louder. “Now I can lick it off you, along with your blood.”
Blood?
Bile rose in my throat once again, and for a second, I didn't even breathe. Just what did this sick man plan to do with me?
“Here you are,” he proclaimed, trailing his fingers over my lips as I wrapped my hand tightly around the knife, not caring if the sharp edges broke my skin. When Erik was about to pull the blanket away, I attacked him with the knife, aiming for his heart, but he managed to shift to the side, so I missed him.
“Fuck!” he cursed, a
nd slapped my cheek with all his power. Just like in cartoons, tiny stars played in front of my eyes from the blow. Then he threw me on the floor and stood over me. “Thought you could kill me?” Kicking me hard in the stomach, he picked up the knife from the bed. The silver glistened from the moonlight slipping through the window. “You’ll learn to obey.”
My hands rested on my stomach as I fought nausea and dizziness. I tried to get up, but Erik kneeled swiftly and pinned down my hands so I wasn't able to do anything as he sat on my legs. “I wanted to be gentle with you this first night, just enjoy the blood of your virginity. But since you beg for it to be rough, so be it.”
The craziness in his eyes was impossible to miss. He was almost in some kind of trance, enjoying the fruits of his actions. He brought the knife closer to my face, and whispered, “Yes, blood and pain.” Chanting it, he ran the knife from my forehead to my left ear, and then the second cut went from my cheek to my right ear. My scream of terror was so loud I thought my throat would give up and I’d lose my voice.
Agonizing pain assaulted me. It seemed to come from everywhere as my skin burned under the silver knife, and my blood slowly dripped from the wounds. The soft touch of wind coming in through an open window only intensified the horrific feelings on the raw meat of my face. As though layers and layers of my skin were peeled down until nothing was left. The cuts were deep enough to cause permanent scars, but not deep enough for me to die from them. He leaned down and licked my forehead as I pushed and pushed at him, but he wouldn't move. His saliva was like salt on my wounds; the pain never seemed to defuse or go away. My body burned feverishly as some of the blood entered my mouth, the metallic taste of it paralyzing me.
Erik wouldn't stop hurting me. He opened the robe and squeezed my breasts brutally, while his knee pushed into my lady parts. He couldn't stop moaning in pleasure. Strength was slowly leaving me; pain, blood, and despair everywhere.
And then, for a fraction of a moment, my nana’s voice came to mind, when she’d take me out for an ice cream and give tips on how to handle boys who picked on me in school in an unkind way.
All men have one weakness.
Back then, I didn't understand what it was, but now I did. Maybe it wasn’t the brightest idea, but no other options were available. So with everything left in me, I slammed my knee right into his erect penis. He cried out in agony, and I slid out from under him as my eyes searched for any kind of advantage in this fight while he palmed his dick, laughing. What could possibly be funny? The man was a lunatic.
The iron bedside lamp with a green, mushroom-shaped shade caught my attention.
Without thinking, I grabbed it, and with all my power, I smashed it right in the center of his head. He fell down, eyes closed, as blood spilled onto the white carpet from his skull, the kitchen knife still in his hands.
It might sound awful, but I didn't give a shit if he was dead or not. Wrapping the robe tighter around me, the adrenalin rush miraculously dissolving every ounce of pain, I took the knife coated in my blood and flew to the door.
The hallway was silent. Stretching widely with several doors on each side, the house reminded me more of the biker compounds I’d seen pictures of on the internet. The walls colored in dull whites and black were accompanied by green carpet, which had seen better days. The smell of alcohol, smoke, and something else, which I had a strong suspicion was sex, hung in the air. I fought not to cough.
My head spun, as the hallway tilted to the side in my vision. I grabbed the wall, leaning on it with my shoulder, while I willed my heart to slow down and calmly searched for a way out.
Suddenly, an unfamiliar male voice shouted, “Did you hear that? I heard some kind of noise.”
“Let’s check.”
The footsteps echoed loudly in the night. I searched for a place to hide and noticed a small opening in the last room in the right corner. As quietly as humanly possible, I tiptoed hastily, and once I reached it, I closed the door behind me and pressed my back against it. The smell in here was even worse, like urine and shit, and my bare feet could feel concrete under my toes.
However, I couldn't care less, because my eyes locked on something, a rectangular window, which surprisingly had no bars. Sheer curtains hung from a rod, making it difficult to see what was outside. I rushed forward to find out the ground was only a few inches away, as we were located on the first floor. The view opened onto a big green field and a small, narrow pathway, which led right into the scary-as-shit forest.
The voices from the hallway got louder and louder, so I snatched the curtains back, and with all my power, I pushed up on the window. It gave on the third try. The opening was small, but I managed to get through it and fell down on my knees painfully, silencing the cry of pain with my palm.
The grass was wet and itchy. Nothing but forest surrounded me, although the sound of the road could be heard in the distance.
“Fuck, the bitch escaped. Call Mark.” They started to scream through the night, so I wasted no time and darted away fast, running for my life. Despite my discomfort and weakness, I ran and ran. The bulbs switched on in the big stadium-like spotlights. The sounds of motorcycles and cars revving their engines and shouted instructions could be heard. “The bitch needs to stay alive. She can’t run for long.”
The words were enough for me to speed up. I hid in the forest, where several kinds of briars, thorns, and sharp things attached to my feet, creating blisters and wounds painful enough to make me want to stop, but I didn't have that luxury.
Dogs barking.
Guns firing.
Birds chirping and coyotes howling.
Go. Go. Go.
Finally, my luck ran out. I stumbled on a rock, and because it was near the cliff, over I flew, rolling in the process as everything I came in contact with painfully dug into my skin and face. It felt like an eternity until my body landed, plastered right near the road. I lay still as my eyes watched the night sky filled with thousands of stars and fitful breaths escaped my lips.
The last thing I remember thinking was that it was a really awful way to die at my young age, and I hadn’t accomplished any of my dreams. What did people do when someone or something came to take them away?
Then numbness and oblivion overtook me, and I welcomed it, because it brought such needed relief.
Over.
Everything was finally over.
Rosa
Wrapping my hands tightly around the black Beretta Brigadier .40, I pressed the trigger and it fired loudly. The bullet hit right in the middle of the target, creating a deep hole through which light streamed.
Fire. Fire. Fire.
No matter how many times I pulled the trigger, I always hit the target. When Damian took me under his wing nearly five years ago, he, Connor, and Luke made it their mission to teach me everything about self-defense.
A memory of four years ago came to mind.
“On the side,” Connor shouted, as I dipped my head from the onslaught of the punching bag flying right at me and several plastic knives that were thrown my way. I managed to slide to the side just as he instructed. Next, I climbed the rope, pulling myself up despite the blisters throbbing on my palms, and I started to swing fiercely then dropped onto the mattress, landing on my feet, my hands at my sides. Glancing at the clock, I bent my arms at the elbows and danced a few salsa steps. Five seconds faster than the last time.
The kick behind my knees came out of nowhere. I lost my balance and ended up on the floor, my eyes glued to a stain on the ceiling.
“And you are dead.” I glared at Connor, who stood above me. His muscled body was on full display in his workout shorts and tee, which stuck to his sweaty torso. His short blonde buzz-cut hair attracted the sunlight. His emerald-green eyes shone with satisfaction and displeasure at the same time.
“It’s not fair. My training ends at this point.”
Shaking his head, he took a sip from the water bottle he held. “Darlin’, you should always be ready. You never know when da
nger is lurking. Learn to stay focused until the mission is over.”
Frowning in confusion, I questioned, “What missions, man? I’m not planning to become an FBI agent, you know. Just learn self-defense.” Connor was in the FBI and helped Damian solve his case. Both Connor and Frankie were kidnapped by the same child-prostitution trafficking ring, and they probably would’ve faced the same fate had it not been for Luke and the twins.
After my tragic story—and they didn't even know half of it—all three men decided it was crucial for me to learn how to take care of myself. So three times a week, Connor brought me here, some old gym owned by some ex-military guy, and he provided much-needed action training. Three other days each week, I worked out at home, building muscles and strength training, while Luke gave me his notorious lectures about not forgetting to be a woman in all this.
Connor shrugged and pointed his index finger at me. “Remember, Rosa, when it comes to self-defense, there is no such thing as too much.”
“This girl is on fire,” a voice said behind me, snapping me from my memory, and loud enough for me to hear despite the headphones I was wearing. Ignoring his words, I continued firing the gun until he finally stepped into my vision and stopped me. “Is that a way to greet me, Rosa?” Damian wore jeans covering up his cast, a black shirt, and a boot. His hair had grown a bit longer, so he shoved it back in a messy man-bun.
All-in-all, he looked good.
Unfortunately for me, he was almost identical to Dominic, which right then didn't really make him my favorite person in the world.
Like at freaking all.
“Are you ignoring me?”
Taking off my glasses and headphones, I raised my brow and flashed him a million-dollar smile. “Whatever made you think so?”
His eyes narrowed, and he pointed a finger at me. “Cut the bullshit. I’m here to talk.”
Turning my head from side to side, I searched for Sapphire and Kristina, but the field and terrace of the house were empty. “You came alone?” It was hard not to notice the disbelief in my voice.