Pakhan's Rose

by V. F. Mason

  Without words, my eyes only on his red cock, I kneeled, opened my mouth, fighting the bile in my throat, and took the head of his penis inside my mouth, barely containing my gag reflex. He was still tense, so I did what I learned to do not to get more shit, and slowly, lick by lick, he started to settle on the sofa more and more, until finally only his moans were heard. “Suck it like a good boy.”

  The second he uttered those words in the highest throes of passion, I bit hard on his cock and trapped it between my lips to his agonized screams. “Get off, you son of a bitch, get off me!” he kept screaming, but I wouldn't leave. Slowly, I understood the coppery taste in my mouth was his blood, and I hummed in satisfaction from the pain I inflicted on him.

  The sound of the door opening, then crashing against the wall, followed by heavy footsteps behind me, indicated Alec and Tim entered the room. Alfred shouted, “Take him away.” Strong hands grabbed me from both sides, but I wouldn't shift until the pressure was unbearable and, with a loud pop, I let go, spitting the head from my mouth. “He bit off my dick!”

  The blood spilled everywhere as Alec cursed and raised the black radio to his mouth. “Boss, problems here.”

  Then as Tim held me, he removed his shirt and tried to cover up the dick, but it only made Alfred scream more. “Get me the fucking doctor. He’d castrated me!”

  I breathed heavily, and for the first time in my life experienced deep satisfaction from hurting someone and wanting to do it all over again. The sight of Alfred groaning, bending his knees to his stomach, trying to hold in screams of pain, and being on the other end of rough treatment… it did something to me.

  This.

  This was my fucking destiny.

  Just for a second in time, bringing punishment to those who deserved it.

  John ran inside, his eyes going wide at the sight of the white room covered in blood and Alfred’s body, and then he immediately turned his attention on me. The hit with the gun he delivered to my face was expected, and the sound of bone breaking penetrated my ear as agonizing pain rushed through me. “You fucking toy.” Then came his kicks to my stomach and back as his fist collided with my shoulder and cheek.

  He delivered his blows, and as the strength slowly started to leave my body and a feeling of euphoria washed over me, I closed my eyes and wished to open up my arms wide to welcome my coming death.

  Life without pain.

  Life without men.

  Life without fear.

  But then, as I almost slipped into heaven, he grabbed my hair painfully and raised my head to his face, and snarled, “Tim, get him the fuck away from here. Kill him and dispose of the body. Now.” Letting go of me, he darted to Alfred as Tim put me on my feet, and to my fucking surprise, I could still walk, although wobbly. He pushed me through the entrances as we passed a few gateways and halls, which seemed familiar from being here once when I almost escaped with Damian and the twins. The place had several more machines, which I couldn't name, and almost didn't see due to my vision being blurry and the blood spilling through my fingers as I held my nose, which was surely broken.

  We arrived in the underground parking, and I was pushed inside the SUV. It looked like the same car they brought us here in nine years ago. Tim sat in the front and drove off, while I lay on the floor barely breathing due to the pain in my ribs, old wounds, and… fuck, everywhere.

  There was a small window with bars behind the driver’s seat, and I could hear Tim’s voice as oblivion overtook me, welcoming me in a warmth I hadn't felt in a long time. “Alec, always fucking Alec, leaving to do good shit when I have to deal with small troubles. Fuck you, John,” he muttered, and for once, I was in agreement with Tim on something.

  Fuck you, John, indeed.

  Rosa

  Cursing the stupid presentation I had to do with Aaron, I urged Lorenzo to hurry up. “We are late!”

  He raised his brow and pointed out, to my displeasure of course, “Had you woken up on time, we wouldn't be late. So don’t give me the famous Giovanni temper.” Sticking my tongue out at him only got me a roll of his eyes as the car moved flawless on the empty streets of New York. Probably most people left to enjoy the rest of the summer outside the city, plus it was a Saturday. Usually traffic here was insane.

  Lorenzo had been right though. Last night, I arrived so late and had to find an electrician by phone as nothing worked in the apartment, then get some food, and by the time my head actually hit the pillow and exhaustion claimed my body, it was well past four in the morning. So when the alarm went off, I just clicked it on mute and dug my face deeper into the pillow. Lorenzo shook my shoulder so hard I finally snapped my eyes open to notice it was 10:30, and I had only half an hour left to get ready, eat, and be at the university by eleven. I didn't even have time to be offended or outraged he had seen me in my nightgown.

  So there we were. For some reason, to boost my confidence before giving the speech in front of a hundred students, I decided to be daring. Six-inch black, velvet heels suited the pencil dress.

  “Just in time,” Lorenzo proclaimed, stopping the car near the building entrance as I grabbed my papers and practically ran from the car. When I noticed Aaron waiting for me, my mouth almost hit the ground.

  The guy sure as hell could clean up. Gone was the geeky, redheaded kid; instead, he was replaced with a confident young man wearing a black suit like a second skin while his hair neatly showcased his vivid features as shades hid his eyes. “Wow, Aaron, such a change for a presentation? Maybe we should have done this whole project sooner,” I joked, but he didn't chuckle too. His body was still, his stance straight as though he were some kind of James Bond on a mission.

  In fact, something was off with the entire scene. “Rosa!” Lorenzo suddenly shouted, as I heard a screech of tires. I spun around, my eyes widening in shock as Octavio, Mark, and Jules emerged from a car holding their guns high, aiming at Aaron. “Come with us,” Lorenzo said.

  My brows furrowed as I took a step toward them to stop them from shooting at my friend, when Aaron pushed me behind his back in one swift move, while taking his gun from under his jacket, releasing the safety, then pointing it right at Lorenzo’s forehead. “Don’t think so, Lorenzo.” For the first time, I heard the hint of an accent in his voice as it lowered in warning. “You won’t like the consequences.”

  Right after he finished saying those words, while I tried to put all the pieces together, two Gelenvagens stopped right beside the others, and the Bratva men jumped at my father’s men with their guns. Finally, Dominic arrived, darting in my direction with determination on his face. “Aaron, what’s going on?” I whispered, and he pushed his glasses up, replying to me coldly, “My name is Anton.”

  Blinking quickly, I squeaked, “What?”

  “I’m a byk of the Bratva. Sorry for lying, Rosa, but someone had to keep an eye on you during your classes.”

  Say fucking what? Dominic placed his bodyguard to spy on me?

  And this guy, the guy who I considered a friend, actually played ‘double-agent’ games with me and abused my trust. “You freaking piece of—”

  Dominic bent down, propping me on his shoulder as he rose up with me while my fists were pummeling his back. “Let go of me, you lying jerk. What the hell do you think you are doing?”

  He didn't even bother to reply, just kept on walking to his car as though nothing out of the ordinary happened. He stopped next to Lorenzo, and greeted him through his teeth, “She is mine. Stay the fuck away from her.” And in three short steps, threw me in despite my loud squeal, and joined me inside the car, as he barked, “Airport. Fast as humanly possible.”

  The vehicle rushed immediately, and since I didn't expect such force, I would have fallen down had Dom’s strong hands not caught me in time. Slapping them away, I backed into the corner, breathing heavily. “Dom, stop this madness.” He shook his head, refusing. “You promised me you wouldn't do it. You promised,” I whined like a little bitch, but I didn’t care. He couldn't, in one momen
t, change into this coldhearted man who didn't listen to my wants and needs. This last month proved he could be different. Why destroy it all in one incident? “Are you jealous?” Damn my big mouth for spilling about the whole Lorenzo thing to him. What guy would like his woman being in close proximity to the man her family supposedly tried to marry her off to?

  Like a flash of lighting, he grabbed me by my neck and kissed the living shit out of me. His mouth demanded entrance, and despite my reluctance, he bit lightly on my lower lip, making me gasp, which gave him the perfect opening to push his tongue inside and take mine hostage. Lacing his fingers through my hair, he mashed our mouths harder as though he wanted to forever imprint his claim there. Slowly, I started to forget why we argued as my mind got sucked into the incredible sensations only he could provide. Greedily sucking on my tongue, he used his teeth, creating a bit of pain, and I moaned. All at once, he took his touch away from me.

  Still tugging my hair painfully, he finally spoke, emphasizing each word. “You. Are. Mine. I don’t get jealous, because why the fuck would I, krasavica moya? No one touches what is mine, sure as fuck not some Italian guy who dreamed of marrying you for ages.” I opened my mouth to correct him that no freaking crush was in question, as said guy had a girlfriend, but he placed his index finger on my lips. “This mouth, body, and soul can only be claimed by me.”

  My lips burned from his kisses, and I barely resisted enveloping his finger with my mouth and sucking it. Fisting my hand on his shirt, I whispered, “Then why are you doing this? Why are you ruining everything?” Something akin to pain flashed through his eyes, but it was quickly gone, so I wasn't sure if my imagination had played tricks on me.

  “You can thank your father. He didn't honor our agreement, so I no longer feel I’m obligated to follow it from my end.”

  “What do you mean?” My voice trembled as I shivered, not really expecting anything good to come out of his mouth.

  “Your father ordered the killing of my sovietnik. So much for not declaring a war.”

  Gasping in horror, I shook my head. “It’s impossible. Dad never plays dirty.”

  He chuckled. “My naïve Rose. You cannot be in the mafia and not play dirty.” His gaze hardened. “So you see, nothing holds me back from taking you with me to Russia where you belong,” he finished, clearly pleased with his logical conclusion.

  My head throbbed from all the awful information he spewed at me, as I said, “I don’t want to go.” Meeting his eyes with mine, I stated firmly, “Stop the car, let me go, and go wherever you please.” Sadness was replaced by anger, as it gave me strength to fight the pull against this man who longed to shatter my life without a care in the world.

  Dominic, completely shut off, focused his attention out the window. His hands clenched in fists were the only indication how much this scene affected him.

  I could have screamed, kicked, and demanded. But what was the point? No one would come to help me. I’d been in this situation before, and I knew how this fucked up shit worked.

  An eye for an eye, an absolute mafia law. Just in my case or luck, whichever way you preferred to look at it, the pakhan of the Bratva claimed me as his and took pity on my dad, but ultimately he delivered a hard blow, because I was what he valued most.

  God, why did I have to be in the middle of this mess between the two men I loved, and why would whatever choice I made still mean pushing my dreams aside to stay by their side. Dominic wouldn't care much for my surgical career. A mob wife had other priorities.

  Wait.

  Love and wife?

  Dominic

  Rosa calmed down and sat with her hands on her lap deep in thought as she stared at the road ahead of us. She was probably contemplating ways of escaping or crying out for help, none of which would be effective considering only the Bratva soldiers surrounded her.

  Yeah, a heartless bastard, that would be me. For a small amount of time in her company, I forgot my real nature and that I no longer waited for people to decide something about my life. I made all the decisions and refused to accept less.

  Rosa Giovanni, soon Konstantinova, was mine the minute my eyes landed on her picture. And it was about damn time the whole world knew about it, her included.

  Finally arriving at the airport and passing all the security checks, Vlad stopped the vehicle in front of a private plane, where Vitya and Michael stood. They had gone ahead to prepare it for taking off the minute we boarded. Grabbing her hands, I picked her up in my arms while she uttered not a single word, and honestly, this silence evoked a suspicion that it wasn't a good sign.

  My friends raised their brows along with their chins, indicating a question of how it was going, but by my grim stare, they got it loud and clear.

  Fucked up, that was how.

  Entering the plane, I sat her on a wide chair while removing my tee and wrapping it around her wrists, holding them together with a tight knot. “Sorry, krasavica, but I can’t have you endangering your life during the flight.”

  She said nothing, shrugged, and then greeted the guys. “Hello, to you.” They shared a look, and then Michael sent her a goofy smile. “Nice to see you again.”

  She chuckled. “Wish I could say the same, but… oh well, I can’t.” This seemed fucking hilarious to Michael as he burst out laughing. She studied the plane, which was considered a luxurious thing if one knew the worth of the expensive wood used for the seats, tables, and bars. The main area, with six wide, first-class style seats, had a flat-screen TV and a Wi-Fi connection. On the far end was one bedroom with a shower inside, along with two restrooms. Fucking comfortable if one travelled as much as I had in the last month.

  “Dominic?” she whispered, and I kneeled in front of her, so our eyes would be on the same level.

  “What?” I asked gently, even though my insides still hadn't calmed down from Radmir’s incident, Lorenzo protecting her from me, and her reluctance.

  “The rules stay the same. No touching until I say so.” With that, she plastered a fake smile on her face as the stewardess offered her a refreshing drink, and she gladly took it.

  My instincts had never wronged me before.

  Rosa was up to no good, but something told me I wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it.

  An eye for an eye. She grew up with this law. It was almost a motto of life, so I wondered what kind of payback she had planned for me.

  Man with the dragon tattoo

  Watching Don lose his shit was an indescribable pleasure. Octavio, Jules Mark, and Lorenzo stood in front of him as he yelled his guts out at them. “How the fuck was my daughter snatched right under your noses with no effort? No gunfire? You just stood there like the fools you are and watched,” he huffed in frustration, his fist slamming against the table as men cast their eyes down, afraid of his wrath. “Now he’s taken her to fucking Russia? Why should I even keep your fucking asses alive?”

  None of them spoke, because really, what could they say? Not being able to follow orders equaled death in the mob world. Don ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and addressed me. “Figure out what pulled the trigger on the pakhan’s temper.” Nodding, I stood up and closed the door behind me as a sinister smile spread wide over my mouth.

  I passed Lucretia, who shied away from me. For some reason, she always disliked me, that fucking old hag.

  I sat on my bike, roared the engine, pressed the button on the detonator, and rode quickly away, enjoying the fucking breezy wind on my face.

  One second.

  Two seconds.

  Three seconds.

  Kaboom!

  Don’s house blew apart in a massive explosion, pieces of bricks scattered around the property, fire erupting and spreading through the garden, as car alarms echoed and black-as-dirt smoke rose to the sky, illuminating a clear view of what was happening. Screams of people who occupied the guesthouses or security blocks and those not exposed to the danger reverberated through the neighborhood.

  What a beautiful sigh
t, red and black colors entwined, destroying everything in their wake. The only thing I regretted was not being able to enjoy seeing all those lifeless bodies.

  Kicking my bike to the side, I fell down to my knees, dialed the phone, and croaked into it as though my insides were dying, when in fact, I barely held in the laugh. “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

  “Someone just blew up the house of Emmanuelle Giovanni.”

  Rosa, Rosa.

  One step closer to me. Because a girl would never live with the murderer of her father, even if he had nothing to do with it.

  Feeling hard concrete under my back, pressing on all my wounds, I almost wept in defeat.

  I thought I’d finally fucking died and escaped this prison. Was it all a dream? A dream in which I finally did something meaningful instead of being a victim all the time?

  What the fuck did a fifteen-year-old boy have to do to get killed in this world?

  Lifting my hand to my face, I frowned at finding a cloth under my fingers, and my heavy lids snapped open, only to close again due to the bright light blinding me.

  The cells had no lighting. Darkness was our constant companion, and we learned to eat, sleep, talk, and live in it.

  Trying again, this time I put my hand on my brows, covering the sunlight beaming at me from the clear blue sky above while birds chirped in the background.

  What the ever-loving fuck?

  Shifting my neck to the side, I came face to face with a man sitting opposite me, his back resting against the huge brick wall.

  He had a long silver beard. His clothes were dirty, his shoes had holes in them, and he could use some washing. I didn't give a shit about any of it. What snapped my attention were his kind blue eyes gazing at me worriedly.

  It reminded me of the look Damian always had for me. “Who are you?” I asked, wincing as it scratched my throat, dry from the lack of fluids. He quickly lifted a rust-and-dirt-smeared cup to my lips, and I took a sip, welcoming the relief it brought.