Unbroken

by Aria Ford

  I took the long way to get to the gym, giving my mind time to churn over what Aya had revealed. Trevor was in some deep shit, that was for sure; part of me regretted killing him so fast. Glancing over at the woman in the next seat, I ground my teeth together and tightened my grip on the wheel.

  We were missing something fucking important.

  Shoving the gear in park, I pulled my keys from the ignition before reaching to snatch my cigarette from Aya’s bony fingers. The stick was only half burned away, and I lipped the butt absently. Jumping out of my car, I waited for her to follow before glancing around. The lot we occupied was surrounded entirely by large buildings that blocked the early morning sun. Cast in shadow, it looked seedy and gross; this was the kind of place a person committed a crime. Narrowing, my gaze landed on a rusted door across the lot, the paint peeling so bad I could see the rolls from where I stood.

  “Why do you bring me with you? I’m a hostage?” Weaving between cars towards the dingy, dark orange barrier, my legs stiffened at the notion. Aya was getting bolder with her questions; they were no longer shallow or superficial. Granted, she doesn’t really ask too many questions, but whatever. Without breaking my stride I spoke up, my explanation flung carelessly over my shoulder.

  “You’re not a hostage. Sylvi doesn’t take hostages. The idea of extorting money by playing with someone’s love for someone else is distasteful to him. You’re just of determinable value. I’d rather Sylvi didn’t kill you and Georgio didn’t torture you.” My tone was harsh, and under my fingers Aya’s wrist flexed. Letting loose an irritated sigh, I stopped a few feet from the door to turn to her. “I haven’t killed you yet. I don’t plan on letting someone else kill you, either. Questo è il mio diritto e deciderò quando sei inutile.”

  Watching Aya roll her thick bottom lip between her teeth, my eyes narrowed and my cheek twitched. For a second my brain pondered what she heard when I spoke my native tongue. Surely it must’ve been something pleasurable; she didn’t know what I had said but still looked so at ease. Squeezing her wrist absently, my throat clogged with annoyance before I tugged her to the door.

  “Luciano! Sei venuto in una buona giornata, mio fratello.” It felt like much longer than a day since I set foot in a gym, and I released Aya’s arm to roll my shoulders. Dylan’s voice was loud, echoing off the high ceiling and the beams that held it up. The friendly greeting overpowered the sounds of people punching bags and each other.

  Taking Dylan’s large hand, I only grunted as my gaze scanned his form. For a burned-out boxer he looked good, his pale blue eyes shining and blonde hair dampened with sweat. Shirtless, he sported lean, wry muscles that no longer held the rigidity of his 20s. His gym was always too hot; even in the summer he only had a single fan on for his wife as she worked behind the front desk.

  “Dylan. I brought a friend for your wife.” Even as I spoke the words a little voice in my head protested. Dylan’s wife was nice enough, but she was also extremely critical. Grimacing as I released his hand, I glanced at Aya only to find her mossy gaze on me, swimming with apprehension. My eyelid twitched, jaw clenching, and I blew a hot breath from my nose.

  “Great- you know, Sarah’s been grumbling to herself all morning. I bet she could use the company.” Nodding slowly at Dylan’s almost perky observation, I watched the color drain from Aya’s face. The only time I left her alone was at the house where I knew exactly where she was at all times. Sylvi wasn’t a coward, but I didn’t put it past him to try something when I wasn’t there. If he did, there was no point in being angry because there was nothing to be done. Life would go on- he knew that.

  But I didn’t want Aya to die until this fucking shit storm that loomed over her had passed. Acting hasty never amounted to anything good.

  Slowly Aya took a step, and her throat flexed in a gulp as her eyes finally left mine. Her body was stiff as she walked away, and my gaze slid down her form. She was filling out- her ribs had disappeared and her hips were less pronounced. Long legs rippled from the tension that gorged her muscles, and I narrowed my eyes on her ass. Twitching, my fingers prickled before I forced myself off her.

  There’s no fucking way she’ll let me touch her. The thought brought a certain taste of bitterness to my tongue, and I gnashed my teeth. Many things I might’ve been, but a rapist wasn’t one of them. Whores brought me no pleasure but finding a woman to fuck was more complicated than simply asking. I had to find a club, pick a girl that didn’t look too drunk, and worry about her vomiting in my car. That was just too much work when it was just as satisfying to jerk off in the shower.

  “Luciano-” With a jerk of his head Dylan beckoned me, and I followed him to a line of punching bags before he spoke up. His voice was harsh, gravely from dozens of hits to the throat that was easily covered up by pitch. “You really have a slave girl, then? I thought that was just a rumor Johann said to make himself feel better about you losing him a ton of money.”

  Clenching my hands into fists, rage ripped through my chest as I sneered at the man before me. My shoulders tensed, back straightening as my heart pounded hard against its cage.

  “She’s not a fucking slave. I don’t trust Sylvi not to kill her- that impatient fucking ass. Trevor had her for a reason. I want to know why.” Hissing, my mouth dripped venom, and Dylan arched a bushy eyebrow. Skepticism overtook his expression even as his hands reached for a bundle of fist wrap.

  “So it’s true about Trevor- he was working for the Russians after all?” The quizzical note in Dylan’s voice snapped me out of my red haze, and I narrowed my eyes on him. My mind’s eye burst with color, flashing back to the ride here and the description Aya had given me of the cross dressing man. Dylan might know something, I grumbled silently, people come here all the time to get patched up.

  “Yes. I need to know if you know anything about a man with a scar-” Sliding my pointer finger down my neck as Aya had, I watched through slits as Dylan followed the movement. “He’s a cross dresser- orange hair- short as fuck…”

  “I’ll have to check, Luciano. You know it all looks the same to us now- just going through the motions. The only time we really remember is if it’s a kid that got caught in the crossfire.” Dylan’s words hit me in the chest, and I grunted as I remembered the face of that little girl from this morning. Even the most heartless murderers in the game didn’t kill kids- it was an unspoken rule. If a person put a hit out on a child, it was that person that usually ended up dead. Children were never bad; evil wasn’t inherent.

  Kids had to learn all of that, and sometimes a really sick fuck got his claws into them- like Georgio. The man was a god damn psychopath, with just enough sociopath in him to fool people. He even managed to buy out an orphanage in Italy to ‘express his distress over violence’. It’d been a very public thing even though I knew that some of the kids were going to end up like me. Georgio wasn’t stupid enough to use all of them; someone would notice eventually.

  Shaking my head of the thoughts, I thrust my hand out as Dylan unrolled the wrappings with expert fingers.

  CHAPTER TEN

  AYA

  Staring at the globs of blood and tissue coating Luciano’s knuckles, I pursed my lips together as my chest tightened. He was shaking, sweat pouring down his back and sides to gloss his tanned skin. The salty liquid glistened atop his palms, and beyond his outstretched fingers it followed the ridges of his sharp physique. His muscles trembled even as he gulped for breath, his chest heaving as he stood on shaking legs.

  “Luciano, you look ready to drop. Why don’t you stop for today?” Sarah’s familiar voice enveloped me, but I couldn’t rip my gaze from Luciano’s form. She talked so much it was almost impossible to hear my own thoughts; for my past three visits it’d always been this way. I would listen to every opinion she had about anything.

  So used to Luciano’s quiet, his short bursts of demands, my abdomen twisted every time he pulled me into this place.

  “Shut the fuck up, Sarah. I didn’t fucking ask you.”
The harsh, rasping snap crackled through the air like thunder, and I jerked in surprise. My heart pumped harder, faster, as Luciano whirled around to glare at the woman next to me. Holding my breath, I watched his face contort with rage, and my blood went cold. Before me he seemed to grow, and my eyes widened when his narrowed gaze landed on me.

  Blood pumped harshly in my ears, and a whimper tightened my throat when Luciano advanced. I couldn’t even blink before his shaking hand was wrapped around my neck. Muscles seizing, even my heart skipping a beat as he forced me to him. The smell of sweat and blood was potent, dizzying, but my body refused to move as the heat seeping from him threatened to scorch me.

  “You’re going to hurt the poor girl…” I couldn’t hide my cringe at Sarah’s grumble, and Luciano squeezed my neck. His muscles rippled under his thick, tanned hide, and goosebumps washed my skin. Wheezing slightly, my lungs struggled to fill even as my brain told me he wasn’t hurting me.

  If Luciano held me with the violence that overwhelmed every part of him but his left fingers, I would be dead instantly.

  Storming off without a word, Luciano dug his fingernails into the side of my neck. Finally my soft cry escaped as he dragged me through a doorway, jerking my head to the right. Ice replaced my blood, and my shallow panting grew loud before he carefully loosened his grip.

  “Shit- fucking god damn-… Cazzo di lividi così male.” Letting out a string of profanities on a hot breath, Luciano released me completely. His hands seemed to have a mind of their own as he cupped the back of my head, drawing me close. Hot, heavy exhales swept down my nose and cheeks, smelling of mint and coffee. Gently tilting my head, he pushed aside my hair to gaze at the offended spot.

  “It doesn’t hurt.” Mumbling, I took a half step forward even as Luciano grunted. Taking a small breath, I savored the hard, salty aroma radiating from his pores. He smelled like a man; there was no other way I could think to describe it.

  “You’ll still bruise, Aya.” Meeting my eye, Luciano’s orbs burned with an intensity that anyone could mistake for concern. Pursing my lips together, I knew the truth, though. He didn’t want to be that man that hurt women when he got angry, just because he was angry.

  “I’ve bruised before.” Luciano’s eyes narrowed into slits at my confession, and I gulped at the dangerous glint there. “I- I- you didn’t mean to.”

  Blurting out those four tiny words, I tensed as Luciano’s grip instantly turned into a fistful of my hair. He forced forward with a heavy step, shoving me back with his chest while my hands flew to his midsection. Pressing me against the thin concrete wall, he blew a hard breath in my face before his lips twisted into a sneer.

  “That’s not a fucking excuse.” Cowering, my knees threatened to give out from the snarl that Luciano let out. His voice was loud, deep, powerful, and I couldn’t breathe under the weight of it. “Stress doesn’t mean fucking shit, Aya- understand that. It’s a fucking excuse to do stupid shit.”

  Nodding furiously, I gasped when Luciano let me go. My palms slipped from his abdominal muscles, his sweat slicking to my skin. Glancing down, I stared at the glistening liquid that coated my hand. The light sheen was thick, and I flexed my fingers before a much larger hand clamped down on my wrist.

  “Lets just hurry up. I have to accompany Georgio to the airport in two hours.” Following on shaking legs towards a shower stall, I tried to get control of my shivering. Luciano’s thick rumblings brought a lightness to my chest, and my shoulders sagged slightly.

  Georgio- I hadn’t met him, and I didn’t want to. Luciano had said some things, but it was the screaming that scared me. The same desperate, pained screeching that echoed through the house from dusk until dawn. Anyone that can make someone else scream like that was a man I wanted to stay far away from.

  Rolling my lips between my teeth, I rubbed the pads of my fingers together absently. For the past two nights Luciano left the house, bringing me to his tiny, one room apartment somewhere down town. His warmth made blankets useless.

  Heat flushed my cheeks at that thought, but I was flung into reality when Luciano let go of my wrist.

  His basketball shorts dropped with a damp thud onto the tiled floor, and my eyes widened as he took off his boxers. Reaching with ease and grace to turn the shower knobs, his legs tightened as he leaned over. My heart fluttered in my chest next to lungs that couldn’t work when faced with such an overwhelming sight.

  Thick, coarse hairs scored Luciano’s abdomen, and my gaze trailed down as he twisted towards me. Instantly my attention was taken by the erection he sported, his length curving outwards. Red and mushroomed, the head was tight as dark blue spider webbed up just under the thin skin. My eyes widened when his rod twitched, and I sucked my lips between my teeth as my abdomen cramped sharply. His veins started to thicken, bulging out as he hardened more.

  “Aya…” Luciano’s call made me suck in a harsh breath as blood beat against my ear drums. Clenching my thighs together, my legs trembled from the fire that threatened to seep down them. I didn’t realize I was inching forward until water from the shower head splattered at my ankles. Unable to tear my eyes from him, I held back a groan when Luciano flexed his abdominal muscles.

  “Aya- if you fucking touch me I will fuck you.” Coarse, the rasp broke through the haze like a baseball through a double pane window. Everything came crashing down around me, and I tensed as the fire in my body was replaced with ice. Frozen, I didn’t dare even blink until Luciano took a stiff, heavy step backwards.

  My eyelids shuttered, and even there I could see Luciano’s impressive girth. Memories flickered in my mind’s eye like a movie reel, replaying scenes from a life that was no longer mine. I’d almost given my virginity away once, in high school, but that boy had nothing on this man. Another time I’d caught my best friend and her boyfriend having sex, and he wasn’t at all like this quiet, brooding male.

  Turning to face the wall, Luciano pressed his palms against the tile, and water ricocheted off his strong back and shoulders to hit me. My fingers twitched, aching to touch him with a fierceness that wouldn’t be denied. Grabbing the wash cloth that hung on a hook at the edge of the stall, I bent to wet it without taking my eyes off him.

  Luciano’s body went rigid, and my heart beat wildly as I tentatively pat his skin with the bleached white cloth. Water sprinkled onto my shirt, but for the moment I ignored it. Heat blossomed in my throat when he didn’t pull away, and I carefully slid the drenched fabric down his lower back. He was still, so still anyone would’ve thought he was a statue.

  My breath came in short, harsh pants as I gently scrubbed away layers of grime and sweat from Luciano’s flesh. Heat suffused my face and neck, the bruises he’d inflicted forgotten in this moment. Each stroke of the cloth sent my heart racing, and my fingers trembled from our combined heat.

  “Fanculo. Che si sente bene, Aya…” Grinding through his teeth, Luciano wound even tighter as I cleaned his sharp, rigid abdominal muscles. Time had no meaning to me anymore; every cell in my brain was focused on feeling him. My shirt was heavy from water, but I barely recognized the weight on my shoulders.

  “F-u-u-ck… me- fuck-” Snarling, Luciano ripped my rag away too fast for me to really process it. My bare palm was pressed against his chest, but a fluttering of my eyelids later he held my hands in both of his. The world spun as he pinned me against the side of the shower stall, and I mewled as the force of him jolted my body. A harsh gasp flew from my throat, my eyes widening as he thrust his hips against mine. Holding myself still, I struggled to calm the panic that took over my chest, preventing my lungs from filling.

  “... Don’t fucking toy with me, Aya.” Moaning breathlessly, my throat burned and my eyes rolled in their sockets as Luciano thrust again. His hot, throbbing member slid under my damp shirt, and I shuddered harshly before my wanton bubble popped.

  Luciano’s cell phone buzzed and chirped, demanding attention, and my eyes snapped open. For a second he didn’t move, his dark orbs shining bril
liantly and face stoic as he stood over my trembling body.

  “Once is shit luck, but if you ever stare at my cock like that again I’ll fuck you so hard a white hot metal dildo won’t seem so bad.” Responding to such a threat was impossible, and Luciano didn’t wait for one before pushing himself away roughly. Leaning against the wall as he grabbed his phone, I took a heaving breath to silence the screaming of my chest. Scrunching up my face, I blinked hard and shook my head before his hoarse, deep voice slithered into my skull.

  “Go fuck yourself, Sylvi. I’m leaving now… I’m not a fucking idiot- of course I’m not bringing Aya.” Whirling to me, Luciano sent me a hot glare, and I paled when he ended the call. He didn’t bother to turn off the shower head, choosing instead to grab my bicep and haul me out of the stall. His wet, hot touch sent fire across my chest, but I suppressed the mewl that threatened to breach my closed throat.

  It took only a few seconds for Luciano to pull on a pair of jeans, his actions rushed and his face unreadable. Watching him snatch his gym bag, I flexed my fingers as all other noises were slowly but surely being replaced with the voice of shame and regret.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LUCIANO

  Stalking into Sylvi’s mansion, instantly the sensation of being caged washed over me. My fingers flexed against my jeans, burning from the urge to wrap around Aya’s neck. Against my ribs my heart thundered hard, and I ground my teeth together as my brother whirled around to face me. His expression was dark; I honestly wasn’t in the mood to deal with his shit when I had other things to worry about.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you, Luciano? Sei stato cazzo tutta la settimana e non puoi incolpare tutto su Georgio.” Glaring daggers, my eyes narrowed into slits and my cheek twitched in aggravation. Sylvi took no heed, and I curled my hands into fists as he advanced threateningly. “I told you that girl was no good, but she’s still around and it’s messing with you, Brother. Literally everyone is talking about you and your little slave gi-”