by Robinson, M.
I glared at him, simply questioning, “But who took her first?”
He eyed me skeptically, arching an eyebrow. “It doesn’t matter when someone as sadistic as he has her, and that’s where your concern needs to lie right now.”
I resisted the urge to fuck him up. “So you’re here as what? Her captor or her savior?”
His jaw tightened. “Both.”
I lunged at him, only to be held back by my father’s men.
“Romeo!” he roared, rushing over to stand by my side. With his hand on my shoulder, he demanded, “Stand the fuck down.”
My seething glare shot to my father’s calm one, trying to listen even though every bone in my body struggled to follow his orders.
The son of a bitch didn’t care in the least that I wanted to tear him to shreds. He knew I was aware of who he was and what he did for a living. If I could even call it that, living.
“Was she here? A week ago? Was she on this property?”
“If you’re asking me those questions, then you already know the answers.”
He was more like a death sentence for any woman who came in contact with him. Thinking of my baby sister at his mercy made my blood fucking sear. I always knew there was a chance for him to retaliate, but I never imagined it would be with Juliet.
How naive am I?
“Do you know what he’s into?” Dad questioned while I held on by a very thin thread.
“I can imagine,” he acknowledged, watching as my father pulled out his phone.
Picture after picture, lifeless body after lifeless body appeared on the screen.
If this motherfucker was surprised, he didn’t show it. He was a blank canvas of emotion. Where I was ready to attack like a guard dog, he was ready to strike like the snake he was.
“This is what your business partner has been doing since before your piece of shit father killed your mother in front of your eyes.”
He cocked his head to my father’s statement. “And yet you never came back for me, but I wasn’t her blood, was I?”
My heart pounded against my chest.
Louder and louder.
Faster and faster.
I exploded.
“Does Juliet know the truth?”
His gaze locked with mine, and I didn’t realize I was holding in a breath until he simply shook his head and stated, “Not yet.”
Juliet
“Ahhhhh!” I screamed bloody murder, jolting awake.
My head was throbbing, and the familiar pain was like coming home to Donovan when I first woke up on the piano in my old bedroom.
With wide eyes, my body propelled forward from the force of Troy’s whip hitting my stomach.
“Stop! Please stop!” I begged, not caring that I sounded so weak.
He didn’t; instead, he struck my chest, my legs, and the side of my neck. Blood immediately poured out of my flesh, staining my dress. I was shocked he’d left me clothed, and I wasn’t naked, shouting for mercy.
I was sweating profusely.
Shaking.
Panting.
Was this what dying felt like? Was this what Donovan’s mother felt?
“Well, well, well, look who finally decided to grace me with her presence. Did you take a nice nap, sleeping beauty?”
Whip to my inner thigh.
To the other one.
To the top of my mound.
“No more! Please, Troy, no more!”
“MASTER!” he yelled as the tail of the whip slammed against my cheek. “You call me Master! You’re my slave now!”
I refused. He’d kill me before I ever addressed him as anything other than a psychopath.
“NEVER!”
The whip hit the same spot on my stomach, and I almost threw up from the rip-roaring pain, reminding myself that I could live through this.
He’d come for me.
I knew it like I knew my name.
Pet.
My head hung by my chest. I was exhausted, and he had only just started beating my flesh. I realized I was tied to the same cross he’d beat me on the last time.
“Juliet…” he sang in the creepiest voice I’d ever heard in all my life.
It was one of those tones that you heard in a horror movie, triggering the hair on your arms to stand straight up. Fear creeped up my spine, becoming a part of me.
Like Donovan.
My master.
“Let’s play a game, shall we? I just love playing games. What do you think? Will you play for me, pet?”
He was using Donovan’s words to mess with my head.
“Fuck you.”
My head whooshed back from the force of his blow to the side of my face. I slowly turned my head around, glaring at him through the slits of my eyes, acting as if my cheek wasn’t on fire. “You hit like a bitch.” I spit blood on his face, and it landed near his mouth.
He viciously smiled, sticking out his tongue and licking it off.
“You taste good enough to eat. What do you think, pet? Do you want me down on my knees, devouring your pretty pink pussy?”
“Donovan will kill you if you touch me.” But would I be alive to see it? My chest ached almost more than my body.
“Donovan and I have shared many slaves. Where do you think he learned everything he knows? I taught him how to touch, how to lick, how to fuck and beat women into submission.”
“He’s nothing like you,” I spat.
“On the contrary—he’s worse than me. I wasn’t the one who killed my own father.”
“That monster deserved to die. He should have done it sooner.”
He rolled his eyes, gripping onto my mouth. “I thought you were smarter than you looked. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and Donovan is the spitting image of his father. Trust me, little one. I’ve seen what he’s capable of. He stole you, didn’t he? Mafia princess to the Sinacore family.”
I swallowed hard and let go, but not before he licked off the blood from the gash on my cheek he’d just inflicted.
“You’re such a pretty girl, much prettier than your mother was at your age.”
I jerked back. “You know my mother?”
He smiled, reminding me of a Cheshire cat. “Knew. I knew your mother.”
“What does that mean? Is my mother here too? Did you take her too, you fucking demonic asshole!”
He roughly pinched my cheeks, causing my lips to pucker. He crashed his mouth into mine with so much passion I thought he was going to rip my face off. Finally, he released me with a loud smack from his lips, pulling back to look me in the eyes as he licked more blood away.
“What do you want?” I gritted out, holding back the bile rising in my throat.
“What do I want? Hmmm…” he hummed. “I want a lot of things. But first, I want to be the one to break you by telling you the truth about who you really are.”
“Like I would believe anything you say.”
“I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a liar. Let’s see … where should I start? From the beginning, I suppose, right? It’s always best to begin there.”
I didn’t stop him, and God help me, I wanted to know what he had to share.
Hit to my chest.
To my stomach.
To my leg.
“Ahhhhhh!”
“Yes! Scream all you want! No one can hear you, and no one’s coming for you like no one came for your mother!”
“What?” I asked through the agony I was feeling.
“You heard me. No one cared enough to save her life. Your family didn’t have to; they already had you. She gave you up willingly.”
My eyebrows lowered. “Gave me up? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Your daddy…” he sang again in a high-pitched tone. “He couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, and one night during an auction, Donovan’s father shared your real mother with him.”
“What?! No! No! No!”
“Yes! Yes! Yes! You’re a fucking bastard! Your mom was Donovan’
s father’s slave for twenty-two years, and when she wound up pregnant, she begged, pleaded, on her hands and knees to her Master to not make her get rid of you. So Donovan’s father did the next best thing—he made a deal with your daddy. The Sinacores turned a blind eye to what we were doing in our business, and they got to raise you instead. With the woman you’ve believed to be your mother all these years when she’s not. Your mother was a slave who couldn’t suck cock to save her life, but that’s not why he killed her.”
My winded stare found his sadistic one. He was getting off on this, on breaking me.
They lied.
All this time, my whole life was nothing but a lie.
“He killed her because your mommy wasn’t very bright, and she decided to take it upon herself to try to gain her freedom on her own. When Donovan was ten years old, she sought out your daddy to help her and Donovan escape from the only life she’d ever known. How poetic, right?”
I sucked in a breath. My heart was shattering into a million pieces.
“Why do you think your family has made it their mission to stop human trafficking? They weren’t doing it for any other reason than to clear their fucking conscience. Your old man is a smart fucker; he knew Donovan’s father would find out what she was plotting. In my opinion, he signed her death certificate long before Donovan’s dad walked into that room and made Donovan hold that cat o’ nine tails that ultimately killed her. Your mom’s blood is on your father’s hands.”
Troy slammed my head into the metal X behind me as hard as he could, and instantly I saw stars. He knocked the wind right out of my lungs from the impact and his might alone. With a death grip over my windpipe, he pinned me against the X, not allowing me to properly breathe and catch my bearings.
My chest heaved, and my eyes watered, gasping for air that wasn’t available for the taking. All the blood draining from my face, down to my lips that trembled with the instinctual desire to fall apart.
So much hurt.
Lies.
Betrayal.
“Now you know why Donovan had you kidnapped.” He leaned in close to my lips. “You play the piano just like her. How fucking sick, right? To teach you her only talent as if they wanted her soul to live on through you. You’re nothing more than a pretty doll that he puts on his shelf to show the world that you belong to him. Do you understand now? Are you seeing things clearly? More accurately? Did I paint the picture you wanted, pet?”
I wanted to know why Donovan chose, me and now I knew the truth, and it was like dying with Troy’s hand over my neck.
“For nine years, nine fucking years, Donovan’s father taught him the ropes, showed him what it was like to be a master, own a slave, have a pet. Until Donovan turned nineteen years old and decided it was time to make his old man pay for his sins, for your mother’s untimely death,” he seethed into my ear, his hard cock pressed against my core. “Do you feel me, Juliet?” He let go of my neck to rip my dress. “Because now it’s time to show you who’s your real master with my dick deep inside of you. What better way to end this fucked up fairy tale you’ve created in your own head than to have my seed grow in your stomach. Proving to Donovan and your father who you truly belong to.”
“NO!” I acted on pure impulse, banging my head into his nose as hard as I possibly could. Blood immediately flew from his nostrils while his body propelled back from the impact of my blow.
“You’re going to pay for that, pet! It’s time to make you lick my blood!” He lunged forward, and I tightly shut my eyes, turning my head into the X. Trying to get away from him. To hide.
Everything that proceeded next was in slow motion.
The doors to wherever we were slammed open.
Instantaneously, my eyes flew open and locked with my villain.
My hero.
I’d never forget the look in Donovan’s smoldering glare as he took in my battered face, my bleeding body, trailing down to the rip in my dress that was barely covering my core. It was that exact moment we were both held captive by this psychopath’s wrath.
The next few seconds played out in my mind resembling a reel from a classic movie. The glimpses of the black and white pictures were present as the current day, even though the stills were blurred, confusing, and utterly compelling. Nevertheless, we would never be the same again.
It was a memory neither one of us would ever forget, even if we wanted to, even if we hoped, even if we prayed, they were permanent. Exactly like his past. Troy was right—this wasn’t a fairy tale. It was a nightmare I wanted to wake up from.
Except when I’d wake up, I’d be alone.
My villain would vanish like a thief in the night, stealing my heart and soul with him. I wouldn’t be the same woman I was after this, and maybe that was his plan all along.
To set me free, even if it meant … I was lost without him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Donovan
“Why?” Romeo asked as we pulled in front of the mansion. “Why not just let him kill her? You sadistic fucks are all the same.”
I clenched my fists. “Don’t talk shit you’ll have to clean up later, Romeo. You fucked while killing, and you think you have the right to judge me?”
“Enough of this,” Romeo’s father barked out. “We’re here for one thing and one thing only, to get my daughter back. Understand me?”
We nodded.
I held my hand toward Romeo after we got out of the car.
He stared at it, looking up at me. “What?”
“I don’t have my gun on me, so I need one of yours.”
His smirk made me want to smack him across the face then run him over with my car.
“I think I have a wooden one in the back. Maybe if you throw it hard enough, you’ll—”
“Romeo!” Old man Sinacore sighed. “Give him one of yours, so we can get this business over with.” His expression hardened. “Should have dealt with this shit a long time ago.”
Romeo breathed deeply, handing me one of his Glocks before going to the trunk and pulling out two more and then shoving them into the back of his pants along with a sharp-looking knife.
Guess even heroes had their favorite toys.
I made the right choice.
In going to them.
In exposing myself as the true villain.
In confessing.
I had to think, as we walked up the steps and into the mansion, that in the end, I did good, and I did it all for her.
My Juliet.
It felt like my body was moving through a thick fog, walking in slow motion down the hall. My hand was heavy as I held the gun in my right hand.
But my thoughts were clear.
Get her out.
Get her safe.
Get her away from the bad guys—even if that meant I was getting her away from me.
A sudden pain attacked my chest, then spread outward and down my limbs until my entire body was heavy as sand.
“Where would he be?” Romeo asked, his eyes wild, glaring through the corridor at all the different rooms.
I stopped in front of the one Troy used to love to play in, knowing in my gut this was where he was. I kicked open the door and rushed in with both men at my sides.
Juliet looked up, scared. Her skin was marred from head to toe with blood, and chunks of flesh were missing from her thighs and chest.
Her right eye was completely swollen shut, her lips bloody, cheeks bruised.
He’d broken her body.
So I would break his now.
“You sick son of a bitch!” I roared.
“Oh.” Troy looked over his shoulder. “You brought your own playdate.”
“Get the fuck away from her,” I said in a lethal tone. “Now!”
Troy finally turned and looked at the men, slightly paling at the sight of one of the most formidable mafia families staring him down with guns pointed in between his eyes.
“You really think you can take me down?” Troy laughed. “I have connections. I kn
ow every senator in—”
Romeo shot at his leg, nearly taking it off. “That’s what I think about your fucking connections.”
I laid my hand out in front of him. If anyone was going to kill this motherfucker it was going to be me.
Tears ran down Juliet’s cheeks.
I mouthed, “Are you okay?”
She nodded slowly.
My angel.
Broken.
Bloody.
While the devil stood by and watched it happen.
Troy was still screaming out in misery when I ran up behind him, catching him by surprise, and grabbed the cat o’ nine tails from his hands. I didn’t waste one more second of what I came to do, what I’d hoped for, what I’d prayed for in who knew how long.
To have his blood on my hands.
“Donovan—”
Not allowing another moment to go by, I started raining holy hell all over Troy’s body, forcing him to his knees.
“You fucking hit her,” I seethed. “Now it’s my turn to hit you!” I slammed the whip down across his back. “You made her bleed, and I’ll steal every ounce of blood you have left! You made her fucking scream, cry, and scarred her perfect skin for you!” I crashed it down so hard it took away chunks of skin from his forearms. “And I’ll make your body unrecognizable. Wishing you were never born!”
Troy held his arms up, blocking each strike, making it easy to take more and more of his skin, pouring out more and more blood, until a hand came back and grabbed my wrist.
“You’ll kill him.”
I glared back at Romeo, stressing, “Good.”
His eyes widened.
“Give me your knife.”
Without hesitation, he handed it over, and I grabbed Troy by the hair, exposing his throat, and drove the knife straight into his chest, all the way to the hilt.
“My boy.” A tear slid down Troy’s cheek. “So proud, so, very, very.” He smiled through the blood oozing from his mouth. “Proud.”
He fell in a gory heap to the floor.
Cursing me one last time, even in his death, as if I had somehow given him a hero’s burial. In his eyes I’d killed him, taken him out in a reign of final glory without even realizing it.
Hating myself more for giving him exactly what he wanted.
Letting my eyes linger on his dead body for far too long, I wanted to remember this moment and look back on it when I needed to smile, to stay calm, to find peace in a world that only caused distress and disorder. Once I was finished, I spit in his face, resisting the urge to piss on it instead.
