Violent Beginnings : A Dark Enemies To Lovers Mafia Romance

by J. L. Beck

  “I’m asking you to trust me, Fallon. Save Julie’s life, so I can save your sister’s.”

  I can see the turmoil she’s going through; it’s etched into the contours of her face. She’s conflicted, scared, but most of all, she doesn’t trust me.

  “Markus, please, don’t do this.” Her voice is shaky and full of emotion, like she is about to cry. “Don’t make me choose. I can’t choose. I can’t.”

  “It’s not a choice, you can save them both. All you have to do is give me the number.” My voice takes on a gentle tone, a tone that I’ve never used, not even once in my life.

  Silence stretches between us for so long, I’m worried she might actually refuse. If she does, I’m not sure what I’ll do. I guess my next resort will be threatening Julie as fucking shit as that sounds.

  “Fine, I’ll give it to you, but you have to promise… promise you’ll help me save both of them. I don’t care what happens to me when this is over, but I want both of them to be safe.”

  She’s so selfless, so fucking caring, it’s insane. She would gladly take a bullet for this girl, even though she hardly knows her. That single attribute makes me want her all the more.

  “I promise I’ll help you in any way I can.”

  “Okay.” She nods in defeat. “I’ll tell you.”

  “I’m going to trust you and call the doctor now,” I’ll tell her, mostly because I don’t know if this girl is going to make it if I don’t get the doctor there as soon as possible, but I’m definitely not telling Fallon that.

  “When we get back to my place, you’re going to write the right number on a piece of paper. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt here, don’t fucking play with me again. I’ll send the doctor away faster than I called him and bring her back to the auction place to die in the basement. Do you understand?”

  “I understand.”

  I get my phone out and dial one of the doctors we have on call. He answers on the second ring, almost like he was expecting a call. He agrees to come right away, no questions asked.

  He better, for what I’m going to pay him.

  Fallon remains quiet for the remainder of the drive.

  The only sounds filling the cab are the quiet hum of the engine and the occasional whimper coming from the half-dead girl lying on my backseat. If I didn’t have Fallon with me, I would’ve killed the girl just to put her out of her misery. I can only imagine what she’s been through, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she was keen to the thought of death. Hell, when all this is over, she just might try and do it anyway.

  After what seems like an eternity, we arrive at the penthouse. I park in my spot, cut the engine, and get out of the car. Walking around quickly, I open the door where Fallon is sitting. She carefully gets out while keeping Julie’s head cradled in her hands. I pass Fallon the car key before I awkwardly pull the girl’s body out and lift her into my arms. A bag of flour weighs more than this girl does.

  “Close the door and lock the car,” I command.

  “I’m surprised you trust me with the key,” Fallon points out but does as she is asked. “What if I were to try and take off now?”

  She’s not dumb enough to do that.

  “I know you wouldn’t leave Julie behind. Now type in the code,” I grumble once inside the elevator. She types in the numbers I rattle off, her hand shaking, and before I know it, the elevator is sailing north. As soon as the doors open, I carry Julie straight to the guest bedroom.

  Fallon is following me like a shadow. With great gentleness, I place Julie’s beaten body on the bed, and even the soft mattress seems to cause her discomfort. Her face distorts into anguish, and a pained cry rips from her throat. The sound is coarse, and one I know she has made a thousand times over given how badly beaten she is.

  Standing up, I scan her body for any life-threatening injuries. Every inch of her skin is either covered in dirt, bruises, cuts, or dried blood. She is a mess, a disaster, and I know she’d be better off dead at this point, but for once in my life, I’m going to do the right thing. I’m going to help someone.

  Turning to Fallon, I say, “Why don’t you get a washcloth and start to clean her up a bit while we wait for the doctor.”

  Fallon disappears into the attached bathroom, and I hear the water running a moment later. Walking back out into the hallway, I grab a piece of paper and a pen from the entryway table. It’s time for her to uphold her end of the bargain.

  When I return to the room, Fallon is already running a washcloth over Julie’s forehead and cheeks. She’s watching her with hawk eyes; the concern she has for this girl is everlasting.

  “Here,” I hand Fallon the items in my hand, “write the number on it.” She hesitates for a brief moment, then drops the washcloth on the nightstand and proceeds to write the number down. “I’ll be right back.”

  Fallon’s gaze flicks to mine, searching for confirmation in my eyes. I give her a tiny nod, hoping to ease her mind, but I’m not sure there is anything I can do to convince her right now. Until I can actually deliver, Fallon is going to doubt me and my intentions.

  I quietly slip out of the room, closing the door behind me. I walk to the end of the hall, where I can still see the door, but where I know Fallon won’t be able to listen in on my conversation with whoever is going to be on the other line.

  Eagerly, I type in the number from the piece of paper and hit the green call button. I hold the phone to my ear and suck in a calming breath. I’m not the nervous type, never have been, but for some reason, there is an anxious feeling that washes over me as I wait for the person to pick up the phone. The phone rings exactly four times.

  With each ring, my patience draws thinner, and dread weasels its way up my spine. Then the ringing stops.

  “Hello,” a familiar gruff voice filters through the speaker, “Fallon, are you there?” I almost drop the sleek device, barely stopping it from sliding out of my hand.

  No, this can’t be. It can’t be him.

  Pulling the phone away from my ear, I look at it instead, as if that would explain why Victoria’s father kidnapped Fallon and sent her to the auction for me to buy. Before I do something stupid like talk to him, I hang up the phone and slip it back into my pocket.

  All I can do is stare at the floor—shock coursing through my veins. I’ve expected all kinds of people behind this, but not him. I know he hates my guts, but Timothy is not the kind of guy capable of something like this… or so I thought.

  My mind is spinning as I try to form a plausible explanation. Victoria’s father loved her. He was a good dad, an outstanding citizen. How could he do this? Kidnapping? Sending a woman to an auction? A woman who looks like his dead daughter, no less.

  Regardless of how this happened, one thing is clear. This is bad.

  Really fucking bad.

  “I’m going to give her some antibiotics and morphine through the IV for now. I’ll probably do this for the next few days to keep her comfortable, then we can switch to oral medicine. I don’t see any injuries that will require surgery, but the amount of superficial trauma is so extensive that it will take her awhile to recover,” Doc. Schwarz explains. “She is also dehydrated and malnourished. I’ll leave some supplements for when she wakes up.”

  “So, she is going to be out for a while longer?” I ask the doctor while he cleans the final few wounds. He has been here for over an hour, examining and cleaning every cut and bruise.

  “For her sake, I hope, yes. The longer she is out of it, the quicker she can heal. The physical trauma in itself is a lot, but the mind is going to be the biggest burden. Your bones and skin can heal, but what’s done to you, the things you remember…”

  I know what he’s referring to. The fact that she was obviously raped, repeatedly. Like I said before, putting a bullet in her head would be doing her a favor.

  Fallon has been sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, watching the doctor take care of her friend. She watches him meticulously as if to make sure he’s not doin
g anything wrong.

  “What about those cuts on her legs? Won’t you stitch them up?” I switch gears.

  “It’s too late. Stitches have to be done within twenty-four hours of the injury. These seem to be older, and the skin is already healing itself. At this point, it’s better to just keep the wound clean and let her body do the rest.”

  “Oh.” Fallon lowers her head.

  “I told you, Doctor Schwarz is one of the best in the city. Julie is in good hands.”

  “Her scarring will be very visible since it wasn’t stitched up, but that’s something she can have revised later. Right now, we’ll just make sure she doesn’t get an infection, so she can recover and get back on her feet.”

  “Thanks, doc.” I watch him pack up all of his stuff.

  I walk him out to the door and hand him a wad of cash before sending him off. When I get back to the guest room, Fallon is sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Julie’s hand. The floor creaks as I walk in, and she looks to where I’m standing.

  “What kind of doctor is he that he doesn’t even ask how this happened or demands we take her to the hospital and call the police?”

  “The kind that is paid handsomely and told not to ask questions.”

  Fallon shakes her head in disbelief, her eyes dropping back down to Julie’s hand. “Did you call the number?”

  “I did.” I nod, taking a seat on the chair Fallon sat in moments ago. My chest tightens. “I know who has your sister.”

  That has her interest peaked. Her head snaps up and her eyes connect with mine—the purest blue, soft like little waves that crest against the shore.

  So trusting and kind. I can’t let her down. Not just because I don’t want to but because I already let another woman down once before.

  “Who?” she croaks.

  “His name is Timothy Brent, and he thinks I killed his daughter.”

  “Did you?” Fallon looks me straight in the eyes. Emotions I have been trying to keep buried rush to the surface, bubbling over the sides and pushing past the walls I carefully constructed around myself.

  Did I kill her? I didn’t pull the trigger, but I might as well have. Her connection to me is what inevitability got her killed.

  “It’s my fault she is dead,” I admit.

  “Do you know where my sister is? Can you save her?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll try.” My words seem to calm her down enough to drop the subject for now, but I’m sure it won’t be for long. One thing is clear, I can’t find her sister and take care of Julie at the same time. She’ll need around the clock care if she is going to make it. I’ll need someone I can trust to help me with this shitshow.

  Tugging my phone from my pocket, I unlock the screen, navigate to my messages, and click on the one contact I know I can count on one-hundred percent.

  Me: I need you to come to my place no matter how long it takes you. Get on a plane and get here. I need your help.

  The answer comes only seconds after I hit send.

  Felix: I’m on my way.

  31

  Fallon

  It’s been three days, and I haven’t left Julie’s side, other than to sleep. I would stay with her at night as well if Markus would let me, but I don’t want to fight him on it since he lets me take care of her the rest of the time.

  She’s opened her eyes a few times, but I don’t think she has fully woken up yet. The times she looked at me, there was no recognition in her gaze. Actually, there was nothing in her gaze, only emptiness, and pain.

  We tried to get her to eat, but she refused, turning her head away and squeezing her eyes shut before falling back into a deep sleep.

  I’m so worried for her, not only because of the physical wounds, but about the trauma you can’t see. Her body will heal, but her mind is a different story.

  I can’t imagine what she’s been through, and I don’t think I want to either.

  “Are you hungry?” Markus’s voice drags me from my thoughts. “I’m going to order some Japanese food.”

  I look up and find him leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. The sight of him causes a ball of warmth to form in my belly.

  “A little. I love Japanese.”

  “Anything in particular?”

  “Not really,” I shrug, “I’ll eat whatever… except maybe like raw squid.”

  “No raw squid, got it.” Markus disappears into the hallway, and I go back to holding Julie’s hand. It’s not much, but at least I feel like I’m doing something.

  I hate not being able to take her pain away. At least she knows I’m here, or I hope she knows anyway. I don’t want her to feel alone.

  “Do you know that you are safe now?” I ask quietly.

  Reaching out, I brush my fingers gently over her beautiful face. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move, not even her breathing changes. The bruises on her cheek have turned from a dark blue to a light purple, and hopefully, they will soon fade altogether. Maybe it’s best she stays asleep for a few more days. Once awake, the mental wounds will take over, bringing with them a whole new level of pain.

  The thought has barely left my mind when Julie pulls her hand from my hold. I look up to find her eyes wide open, fear reflecting back at me as she takes in her surroundings. I’m almost glad I see fear in her eyes because even that is better than the void of emotions I’ve seen until now.

  “Julie, it’s okay. You’re safe now.” She shakes her head as if she doesn’t believe me. “I promise, Julie, no one is going to hurt you here.”

  I try to take her hand, but she pulls away yet again. I let her. I won’t do anything she doesn’t like.

  “Julie, you’ve been out for a few days. You need to eat something. It will make you feel better.” I grab the bowl of oatmeal I made for her earlier from the nightstand. Using the spoon, I get a tiny amount of oatmeal and hold it to her lips. “Please, Julie, just a tiny bite,” I beg, but she turns her head away, like she’s been doing.

  Sighing in defeat, I put the bowl back onto the nightstand. It’s like she has just given up.

  The loud ding-dong of the doorbell startles me. I sit up a little straighter, wondering if that is the fastest food delivery service in the world or if I have been sitting here much longer than I thought. It only feels like a few minutes have passed since Markus walked in here.

  I could be wrong, though. Time seems different when you’re waiting for someone to wake up and heal.

  Curiously, I look at the cracked door. If it’s not the food, then who else could it be? The doctor already came by to check on Julie this morning, and he’s only been coming once a day, so I don’t think it’s him.

  A few more moments pass, and I hear the ding of the elevator door echo through the apartment. Two male voices fill the space. They are hushed like they don’t want me to hear, which confirms that this is not the food delivery.

  My heart hammers in my chest. Markus didn’t tell me anyone was coming, and the last time he invited a friend over, things did not end well. I glance at Julie, and her eyes are still open. She is staring at a spot on the ceiling, almost like she is in her own little world, oblivious to what’s happening around her.

  I take her hand again, and this time she lets me. The door creaks open, and I hold my breath. For the last three days, I’ve held Julie’s hand for her comfort, but right now, I feel like our roles are reversed.

  Suddenly, I’m clinging to her, so I know I’m not alone.

  Markus enters the room first, a stern look on his face, which does nothing to ease the tension festering in my gut. Then another man steps in, he’s big, and with the two of them inside, the room seems to shrink. The nameless man peers around the room until his gaze stops on me.

  He pins me with a glare, and I recognize a familiarity almost immediately—dark eyes, dark hair, tall, and bulky build. The man looks like an older version of Markus.

  “Fallon, this is Felix, my brother,” Markus introduces the man beside him.


  Brother… that makes sense. “Um, hi,” I say awkwardly.

  He answers with a grunt. Great, he is just as big of an asshole as his brother.

  Walking into the room, he stops a foot away from the bed. Now that he is closer, I can see he already has some gray streaks in his hair and his forehead has wrinkles that set his face into a permanent frown. He’s still very much attractive, but more so in a silver fox kind of way.

  “What do you think?” Markus asks, and I’m not sure what exactly he is asking, or even who. Me? Felix? I don’t understand.

  “I’ll take her,” Felix growls, looking down at Julie, who is still looking at something on the ceiling.

  What the fuck? Every alarm goes off in my head.

  “What do you mean by take her? Take her where?” I clutch on to Julie’s hand a little tighter.

  “Felix is going to take Julie off our hands for a while,” Markus explains, like he is talking about a pet that has become too much to handle.

  “She is not a dog, you can’t just give her away, or sell her, or whatever it is you just did. She is not a form of currency. She is a goddamn human.” I enunciate each word clearly, my voice filled with determination and passion. I won’t let her be hurt anymore.

  Felix’s eyes slide back toward me, his face a blank mask. I can’t read him at all.

  I have no idea if he is good, bad, or something in between. All I know is that I’m not just going to let him take her.

  “Julie should stay here until she is better. She’ll be scared with you, and she knows me. We’re friends. I won’t just let you take her, so you can do whatever you want with her.”

  Without saying a word, Felix takes another step toward the bed, then sits down on the edge. Julie doesn’t move, does not react like I thought she would.

  “Hand me the bowl of oatmeal,” he orders in the same demanding tone his brother uses on me. I almost roll my eyes but manage to hand him the bowl without doing so.

  “She won’t eat,” I point out, but that doesn’t seem to stop Felix from trying.