by Dee Garcia
“Where are your manners?” he asks, him tone seemingly friendly as he gestures to his guests.
My arms come around my middle as all four men, my father included, stare me down. “I apologize,” I say to them. “I’m just so hungry.”
“Not an excuse,” my father growls, racking another shiver down my spine.
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
A mere second ticks by before Fredrick chimes in.
“I’m hurt, little L.”
I snap my gaze to where he sits in time to catch him holding a hand to his chest. “Had me waiting all night. I wanted to see you before I left and you don’t even say hello?”
Of all the men, Fredrick likes me best, and my father lets him have sex with me the most, doesn’t even make him pay like the rest. They have the kind of relationship I once used to wish my father had with me. He loves him—genuinely loves him—like a son.
Technically, he could be his son. He’s only twenty-one.
And I’m fifteen, just to put things into perspective for you.
My father loves him so much, he let Fredrick take my virginity two years ago. It was nothing like they say it should be. Wasn’t sweet or slow. There were no kisses or soothing touches either.
I did bleed quite a bit, though, but perhaps that’s because I fought him the whole way through, begging him not to strip me of my innocence as tears rolled down my cheeks. I hadn’t made any sort of vows to keep it intact, but I’d hoped someone special would claim that card, someone who took my breath away, someone who loved me.
It was brutal, and a part of me died that day.
The next time, I fought him harder, tried screaming louder. I even bit him when he sealed a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. But the third time, the third time I learned it was best to just keep my mouth shut. No one was coming to rescue me, especially not my father, not even when Fredrick pulled out his uncle’s pistol and whipped me across the face.
I wore that gruesome marking for weeks, and my mum truly believed I’d fallen down the stairs.
With time, the rest of the men followed suit, some more aggressive than others. Either way, I simply took it, no protest.
Because what was the point?
My cries would only fall of deaf ears.
“Well, you saw me,” I snap at him.
My father’s eyes bulge at my disrespectful tone. “Watch that tone, young lady.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologize for the third time. “I’m just hungry. I’ve said hello…can I please go now?”
“I’ll walk her back up to her room, Pops,” Fredrick offers immediately, and of course, my father nods without a word, clapping him on the shoulder with pride in his blue eyes.
That twisted, blood-chilling sound of approval is what dissolved the memory into nothing. When my stare refocused in the moment, I found myself standing before the bathroom mirror, eyeliner wand in hand.
I sighed at myself in frustration.
I’m doing it again.
Staring off mindlessly as flashes of my past played at the forefront of my mind. I’d do it at the most inopportune times, too. Can’t say I missed this one bit, not when the last few years of my life I’d finally been able to keep them at bay, tucked far, far away in the very depths of my mind.
But after what happened with Vic, they flooded me with a vengeance.
They’d evolved, too, which was the worst part of it all. Now, they all ended with Vic. I could start off seeing Fredrick, or James, or Ronald, or any man who’d used my body, but eventually, they all morphed into Vic.
And what they did to me was mind-numbing.
As a result, I’d been keeping my time in the office to a bare minimum. I couldn’t look at it the same, not without breaking into a sweat or goose pimples dotting my skin as my stomach churned in revolt. I kept telling myself I simply needed to work through my demons, and that time would, once again, heal these vicious wounds.
But after Roman’s surprise visit, I’d just been avoiding it at all costs.
Told Ellie—in my best congested voice—that I was feeling under the weather. We were going on four days now of my so-called super flu, but could you blame me? Black Widow used to be my safe haven, my command center, a sanctuary I’d worked so hard to build, and within days of each other, I was attacked there, twice.
Granted, Roman’s encounter had a vastly different effect on me than what Vic’s dished out, but nonetheless, it contributed to running myself mad. The sheer amount of emotions both of these men had me fluctuating through was enough to drive anyone to the point of insanity.
Regardless of my instability, though, four days was still four days of missed work, and while I knew Ellie was doing all she could to keep me up to speed, there was still a lot I was missing out on, including that meeting with Isabella.
Well, both of them.
I’d cancelled the re-schedule the day of and Miss Mendoza was obviously not pleased. If I missed this third one, I knew she’d walk, no matter how badly she wanted to work with me.
Which brings us to now.
Clicking the home button on my iPhone, I took note of the time. I’d promised Ellie I’d be there before noon.
Didn’t look like that was going to be possible after wasting so much time spiraling into the past.
I’d dragged my ass out of bed and showered, put my face on, threw on something work-appropriate, and hustled out the door less than twenty minutes later. I’d go in for this meeting and come right back home after everything was finalized—no big deal. The chances of running into either of them, Vic especially, were slim.
Or so I hoped.
When I arrived at Black Widow, Isabella was already waiting near Ellie’s desk, looking a million times more confident and prepared. She seemed a bit uptight, too, her lips a firm line when I smiled, but I suppose that was my fault with the double reschedule. The girl probably thought I was trying to play her.
I wasn’t, in case you were wondering.
“Good morning, Miss Mendoza, I’ll be ready for you in ten minutes,” I said to her as I sauntered past quickly to my office, the clip-clop of my heels echoing off the glittering floors.
Stealing a peek at an expectant—and relieved—Ellie, I motioned to my office with a tip of my head and burst through the doors. The initial sight of my desk made me shiver, but I blocked the memory out of my mind, focusing on the fact that if this meeting didn’t go off without a hitch, Black Widow wouldn’t be getting the attention it deserved.
Ellie was skittering in behind me just seconds later, a notepad in hand. “Do you need anything?” she asked sweetly, gauging my reaction.
“Tea, please, and bring one for Isabella, too. Milk and sugar on the side.”
“On it.”
She was out the door not ten seconds later, leaving me to scramble about and attempt to prepare myself for this meeting. Attempt being the operative word. Dropping into my chair, I booted up my computer and began frantically pulling things from my drawers; her file folder, a notebook, sticky notes, my favorite pen with the gold dipped Maleficent head.
I was going to need her contract as well, which I’m sure Ellie printed out at some point. I just didn’t know where it was and I was not about to go on a wild goose chase to find it.
Just print another one.
That’s when I saw the note, right as I turned to my computer to pull up my email.
Stuck on the monitor was a sticky note with Vic’s signature. The mere sight of it made my heart palpitate in all the wrong ways. That overwhelming feeling of dread dispersed through my body with such speed, I almost folded in on myself in agony.
Breathe. Just breathe, I reminded myself, inhaling deeply through my nose and out through my mouth.
He’s not here, you’re safe.
At least for now. If I kept wasting time letting him get to me, though…
Dragging my gaze back up to the note, I peeled it off the monitor in determination and quickly read the short message scribble
d perfectly in the center.
He’s sorry? HE’S SORRY?
Chucking in disbelief, I crumpled the note in my shaky hand and promptly tossed it into the rubbish bin regardless of the information supplied. He was sorry? He was fucking sorry? Did he truly think a meager apology would amend what he’d done to me? Just like that?
The man had to be delusional. Insane. Or maybe he was using? He had to be, had unparalleled access to anything he wanted.
Or maybe he’s just that evil…
“L!” Ellie reappeared at my door then, face pale, breathing ragged, her blonde hair mussed up as if she’d running through the factory.
Every red flag known to man kind shot up at the sight of her distress. The already frantic beating of my heart raged, threatening to break free from my chest.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, shooting onto my feet.
“You’re gonna wanna see this,” she said simply, motioning for me to follow her.
Stat.
Abandoning my desk, I scampered out of my office behind my PA, promising a befuddled Isabella I’d be right back along the way. She didn’t seemed too pleased, but nodded anyway, pulling her phone out from her purse to busy herself in the meantime.
Thank fuck.
The last thing I needed was for her to storm out after I’d come in just for her sake.
With brisk footing, Ellie and I hightailed it down the stairs to the back room where at least a dozen people were hard at work, packaging new palettes for online orders. Their greetings went unanswered, aside from a simple wave, as we barreled through each station and out the back door onto the delivery deck.
The scorching afternoon sun blinded me as I rushed out behind Ellie. Hand raised to shield myself, I skidded to a stop when I saw Vic standing next to Roscoe, their backs turned as they assessed whatever was in the lone delivery truck.
Thump, thump, thump.
Every instinct within me told me to run. I wanted to, wanted to turn back while there was still time and he hadn’t seen me, but Ellie outed me before I could so much as take one step.
“She’s here!”
Both men spun around in a flash, their eyes pinning me in place. Vic’s were glacial, almost emotionless to an extent, while Roscoe’s were more concerned, dark brows bunched together tensely.
“He’s not playing around anymore,” Roscoe said, and at first I didn’t clock on to who he was talking about.
I couldn’t focus with Vic standing not ten feet away from me, staring at me in the most unnerving fashion.
“W-who?” I asked nervously.
“King.”
My stomach flipped at the mention of his name.
“What did he do?” I hedged, taking cautious steps forward.
Roscoe glanced at Vic, then turned back to me and hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Inside the truck, but brace yourself… It’s not pretty.”
I don’t know what I was expecting to see as I slid between the two and padded down the docks edge, but awaited me surely wasn’t it, even after reading the note taped onto the door.
Inside the crisp white delivery truck was a mangled Javi, our delivery driver, and a large shipping box. He knew everything that went down behind these ebony doors, and now, he was dead.
Gasping, I tried processing the harrowing image before me. From the looks of it, he suffered a great deal of pain before Roman finally let him die. His body remained upright solely by the thick, course rope binding him to the chair, uniform shirt drenched in his blood.
This is where got really ugly.
His eyes—gouged.
His ears—sliced off clean.
And his lips—sewn shut.
I didn’t have to open the box to know what was in there, but a part of me wanted to believe Roman wasn’t sick enough to do such a thing…
In the end, I was wrong.
Very, very wrong.
Inside the box were two eyes, two ears, and one bloodied tongue.
♫ Lucky You - Eminem ft. Joyner Lucas ♫
The delivery guy never stood a chance. Poor bloke never saw it coming. Not to worry, I didn’t drag it out too long, just enough to expel the demons.
For the time being anyway.
They’d return soon enough and demand another taste of death to quench the thirst.
To answer your obvious question—no, I didn’t have to kill him.
But did it send a message?
Yes, it sure as fuck did.
You see, I’d not been left much of a choice really. I had to do it. Lux underestimated me. Hell, I think everyone underestimated me, Vic included. Lux I could somewhat understand, given the woman didn’t know very much me.
But Vic?
How could he truly be surprised when he knew firsthand what I was capable of?
I suppose it didn’t matter either way.
What I did moving forward wasn’t for his benefit anyway.
Not that he’d figured that out yet since I was still playing along without missing a beat.
All part of the plan.
Dismembering the delivery bloke, though, was not part of Vic’s plan, and he wasn’t pleased about it in the slightest.
As you’re about to find out…
Parked outside of Noir Coast after hours, I was rolling up a little stress reliever to enjoy up on my spot when all of a sudden, someone banged their fist on the driver’s window.
Startling just slightly, I snapped my head toward the sound to find Vic on the other side, green eyes blazing.
“Open up,” he demanded, starting around the front end of the Benz.
Sighing, I clicked the magical button and waited for him to slip in the passenger side as I went about resealing the cigarillo between my lips.
“You butchered the delivery dude?” he questioned furiously, sliding inside the peaceful confines of my car and slamming shut the door.
There goes my peace and quiet.
I stared at him for a moment, sealing the final end of the blunt with a vacant expression on my face. “That’s a rhetorical question, right? Clearly you already know since you’re asking me.”
The look he flashed me practically screamed he was about to blow a gasket. I almost laughed.
“Why the hell would you do that?!” he barked.
“Another rhetorical question?”
“Cut the fucking shit, King! Do you have any idea how much this little charade of yours has complicated everything?”
“How so?” I questioned, stuffing the blunt into the inside pocket of my jacket and returning my supplies to their rightful spot within the center console. “Do tell.”
“Lux is going ballistic,” he spat, cinching my entire face in confusion.
“Um…was that not the point?”
“Yes!” he bellowed. “But not this way!”
“Then how? What else did you expect after she had you and Roscoe wipe out more than half of our guys that one night. Did you not think I’d retaliate on the same level?”
Vic opened his mouth to counter, but not a single word slipped free.
Not one.
He just sat there, eyeing me indignantly, until finally he laid an elbow on the window sill and turned to observe our shrouded surroundings.
“They were casualties, Rome, casualties we’ve replaced,” he explained quietly.
“As is the delivery driver. He’s replaceable,” I retorted.
Chuckling, he shook his head and sighed deeply as if I were clueless. “She doesn’t just trust people like that. Finding someone who’s going to keep quiet isn’t as easy as you think.”
“You do realize that makes no sense, right? There’s an excess of people willing to keep their mouth shut for the right price. As you so kindly pointed out, you just replaced over thirty-five people in a span of mere days,” I stated, jamming the key in the ignition.
The engine roared to life with a simple flick of my wrist.
“That’s different!” he snapped, turning back toward me.
“How is that different, Vic? It’s the same damn concept. They know they can’t talk.”
“It’s different, trust me. Lux and I are two different people. How we operate business is different, too.”
They weren’t really, but I didn’t feel the need to exhort my opinion. In fact, I had no inclination to keep this conversation going much longer. If Vic wanted to believe he and Lux were so different, then by all means, the man could live in denial for all I cared. What bothered me most was the fact he was questioning me about something that shouldn’t’ve been an issue to begin with. He knew damn well many a pawn wouldn’t make it out alive.
“So let me get this straight… Eliminating people off the board is okay, but only if it’s on your terms?”
“That’s not what I said,” he muttered.
“But it’s what you implied. You had absolutely no problem with us taking out Ramos, or letting Lux wipe out our people, which for the record was a grand betrayal on your part. I’m surprised anyone was willing to fill in their shoes after the fact.”
Silence, once again, fell upon us. He could try to spout it however he wanted, turn it inside out and all around, but the bottom line is, he knew I was right.
“You could have at least warned me, allowed me to prepare myself,” he said after a beat, his tone resigned. “The day I had… Trying as fuck.”
Interesting…
“Explain,” I demanded, falling lax in my seat. This I could tolerate another five minutes for.
Vic shrugged. “Having to go through Roscoe for everything just made the process more tedious than necessary, that’s all.”
“Why did you have to go through Roscoe?” I pressed, and although he tried brushing it off with a wave of his hand, I didn’t miss the way he initially tensed up.
“Lux and I are not exactly on speaking terms right now.”
Very interesting…
“Why?” I pressed harder, and again, he tried playing the nonchalant card.
“We had a disagreement.”
“About?”
“Not important. She’ll get over it. Like I said, we’re very different people. Don’t always see eye to eye on certain things.”
