Bound By Vengeance (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles Book 5)

by Cora Reilly

  “Wait!” I screamed and to my surprise Growl actually halted, an uncomprehending expression on his face. I twisted until I could see Falcone again. “What about my sister and mother? What happens to them?”

  “That’s none of your business,” he said with that malicious grin. Then he glanced at Growl. “Take her out of my sight. I’m growing tired of her.”

  Growl tightened his grip and dragged me away despite my protests. Talia tried to run toward me but was stopped by another of Falcone’s men. Mother was beyond our reach, trapped in her sadness.

  “Cara!” Talia cried, her eyes pleading with me to do something, to help her. But how?

  Growl opened the door and then we were outside. Talia screamed again but her words weren’t intelligible.

  The door closed between us, and Talia’s terrified cries died away. I walked on autopilot. Not that it would have changed a thing if my legs had given away. Growl would just have dragged me along. I finally drew my eyes away from my home. I couldn’t bear looking at it a moment longer knowing that I might never see it again. As my gaze settled on the tall man pulling me toward an enormous black Hummer that was way too fitting, the fear for my sister and mother took a backseat as my own fate registered. Falcone had given me to his cruelest fighter. If I survived today, would I even still want to live? Maybe death would seem like the sweetest mercy after Growl was done with me.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Growl

  Growl’s mind was racing as he pulled Cara toward his car. He’d often thought about the first time he’d seen her at Falcone’s party. He’d regretted attending the party, especially because her image had haunted his sleep in the weeks after.

  He’d felt like a monkey in a suit, and he knew he looked that way too. He knew his boss only invited him, so people had something to talk about. Even after all these years they still regarded him as the monster to fear.

  He was a monster, no question. But he wasn’t the only monster in that room. He wasn’t even sure he was the worst. He’d killed the most people with his own hands, that he couldn’t deny. And he didn’t want to. He was proud of what he’d done. Most of it, at least. It was the only thing he was good at, killing. He was the best. And maybe his talent for killing made him one of the worse monsters but he knew how easily the order to kill and maim rolled off the tongues of many men gathered at this ball, how they relished in their power to do so. He wasn’t sure if that didn’t make them just as bad. But it wasn’t his place to decide anyway. Maybe one day all of them, Growl included, would have to face a higher power. That day wouldn’t end well for either of them.

  Growl wasn’t too worried, however. He’d lived through hell, still lived it. There was nothing to fear for him. Nothing waiting for him beyond death could possibly do worse damage than had already been done. There was nothing of him that hadn’t been broken, nothing left to destroy, except for his body perhaps, but he wasn’t worried about that either. He knew pain, agony even. It was the only constant in his life. He’d almost come to see it as a friend. Something he could count on, something predictable.

  No, he didn’t fear pain, or death for that matter. Falcone always said that made him such a valuable asset. And that was something Growl was proud of, even if the words coming from Falcone’s mouth left a bitter aftertaste.

  They took him for dim witted, thought of him as nothing but a stupid lapdog to do their biding without the barest inkling of what they were up to. Like one of the many fight dogs Falcone and so many of the other men kept for entertainment.

  But many people had done the same error – mistaken silence for stupidity, equaled lack of words with lack of understanding and knowledge. It was an error they might pay for one day. He knew most of their deepest and darkest secrets, simply because they didn’t keep their fucking mouths shut when he was around. They thought he wasn’t listening, and even if he were, how could he ever grasp what they were saying?

  He despised them but they paid well and respected him for his strength and brutality, that was enough for him. He had no intention of using his knowledge. He didn’t need much: money to buy food for his dogs and himself, and for women and a drink now and then. He liked his simple life. He didn’t want complications. He cast his eyes over the cowering girl in the passenger seat. He hoped she wouldn’t turn out to be a complication. He could hardly give her back. Falcone wouldn’t like that.

  Not that Growl had any intention of giving her back. She was his most valuable possession to this date. She was looking out of the window, ignoring him. Like she’d done at the party. Like they all did until they couldn’t ignore him anymore. Did she still think she was above him? He turned his gaze back to the road. It didn’t matter. She was his now. The idea sent a stab of pride through him and his groin tightened in anticipation.

  CARA

  I could barely breathe. From fear, and because of the stench. God, the stench was worse than anything I’d ever smelled before. Blood. Metallic and sweet, oppressing. I could still see the pool of blood spreading beneath Father’s lifeless body, could see Mother kneeling amidst the red liquid, and Talia’s horror-widened eyes. Every moment of tonight seemed to be burned into my mind.

  My eyes flitted to the man beside me.

  Growl. He steered the car with one hand, looking relaxed, almost at peace.

  How could anyone look at peace after what had happened? After what he’d done?

  His clothes were covered in blood, so were his hands. So much blood. Revulsion crippled me.

  A few weeks ago my bodyguards would have quickly ushered me away from a man like him. My mother had practically dragged me away from him at Falcone’s party.

  And now I was at his mercy.

  He was a brutal, violent hand of Falcone’s will. He turned to me.

  His eyes were empty, a mirror to throw back my own fear at me. His arms and chest were covered with martial tattoos, knives and thorns and guns.

  I couldn’t stop looking at him, even though I wanted to. I needed to, but I was frozen. Eventually he returned his attention back to the street. I shivered, and let my head fall forward until my forehead came to rest against the cool window. There was a low buzz in my head. I couldn’t think straight. Get a grip.

  I needed to figure out a way out of this.

  But we were already slowing down as we turned into a shabby residential area. The paint had peeled off of most of the fronts, and garbage littered the front yards. In a few driveways cars without tires and with broken windows were parked. They wouldn’t be driving anywhere.

  Growl stopped the car in front of a garage, which was freshly painted, then he climbed out. Before I could come up with a plan, he was at my side and opened the door. He grabbed my upper arm and pulled me out. My legs could hardly support me but he didn’t seem to care. He led me around the car, over cracked pavement and an overgrown front lawn. A group of teenagers was clustered together two houses down, listening to music and smoking, and across the street a woman with a stained tank top and tattoos snaking up her arms took out the garbage, looking like she would be giving birth any second.

  I opened my mouth to call for help.

  Growl released a harsh breath. “Do it. Scream. They won’t help you. They have their own problems.”

  I hesitated. The teenagers and the woman were actually looking at us, watching how Growl was dragging me toward his house, and they didn’t even blink. Even the blood on Growl didn’t seem to shock them. There was resignation in their expressions, it seemed to seep from their pores. They didn’t have the energy to take care of themselves, to take control of their own lives, to fight for their future, much less for mine. I pleaded them with my eyes anyway, hoping. Still hoping after everything. The woman was the first to look away and walk back into her own house, moments later the teenagers returned to whatever they’d been doing.

  Those people didn’t care what was happening to me. They wouldn’t help me.

  We arrived in front of a door. The paint had peeled off, revealing su
n-bleached wood. Growl opened the door. It hadn’t been locked. My eyes darted toward the group of teenage boys again. They didn’t look like they’d pass up an opportunity to break into a house that wasn’t even locked. I peered up at my captor, at the scar running the length of his throat, the blood on his shirt and hands, at the hard lines of his face.

  Growl met my gaze head on and my legs almost buckled under the darkness in his amber eyes. He didn’t say anything.

  “Even in this area nobody dares to cross you,” I whispered.

  “That’s true. But that’s not why I don’t have to lock my door. Most of the people in the area are junkies and have nothing to lose.” Growl pulled me into his house and closed the door. The inside of the house was even worse than its interior. The AC was running at the maximum, turning the small corridor we stood in into a freezer.

  I shivered violently but Growl seemed immune to the cold. There were no pictures on the walls, no decoration at all. This house was a lonely, dark place. All the doors were closed but behind one of them I heard sounds I couldn’t place. Like tapping. Did he have another woman locked into one of them?

  Tears pressed against my eyes. This was it. Everything was over.

  Had the fight already drained out of me?

  He dragged me into a room. His bedroom? The only pieces of furniture were a bed and a wardrobe, but what the room lacked in furniture, it made up with wall decorations. Daggers and knives mocked me from every direction. Growl released me and I stumbled forward. I dropped to my knees. The only other option would have been to fall onto the bed, and I wasn’t going anywhere near that thing. I quickly turned, throat tight with fear as Growl watched me from the doorway. He looked like he’d risen from hell; a man wrapped in darkness, death and blood. A monster.

  Oh God, oh God, oh God.

  “I’ll be back,” he murmured before he turned and closed the door.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Cara

  I’ll be back.

  I didn’t hear a lock. Was he so sure of himself that he didn’t think he needed it? His steps moved away until I couldn’t hear them anymore. What was he doing?

  I’ll be back.

  That had sounded like a threat. My eyes found the bed and I quickly got up. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what he was going to do once he returned. How was I going to get out of this?

  I tried to stifle my panic, but my heart didn’t stop racing and my hands were damp with sweat. The blades flashed in the corner of my eye. I knew I wasn’t a fighter, and I didn’t know how to handle a knife or any other weapon. I’d never had to hurt somebody. I wasn’t sure if I was capable of it. I approached one of the daggers. It was the least flashy one, no curved or zig-zagged blade. It was the one that scared me the least. I reached out and curled my fingers around the handle. It didn’t feel wrong like I’d expected, but I didn’t kid herself into thinking that I could do more with it than hold it. I took it off the wall. It weighed more than I’d thought and somehow I was relieved for something substantial to hold onto.

  My eyes flitted around the room. Adrenaline had banished my terror for now, at least mostly. I hurried toward the window but there were bars in front of it. A bubble of hysteric laughter bubbled up my throat but I swallowed it. No sense in going crazy – yet. The windows were covered in a layer of dust, giving the illusion that the outside world was even farther away. Not that the outside of the house was any more enticing than the inside. This was a hopeless place altogether.

  I backed away from the window and clutched the knife tighter. This was my only chance. It might as well have not been one at all. Steps rang out and for a moment I was frozen with indecision and fear. Maybe things would only get worse if I attacked Growl, but I wasn’t sure how that was possible. There was no light in his eyes, no mercy or kindness, nothing I could cling to and hope for an acceptable fate. Maybe there was little hope of me succeeding but…

  My eyes darted to the bed, only queen-sized, which was strange for a man of Growl’s size. The blankets were dark red, probably to hide bloodstains. I shuddered as images bloomed in my mind, one more horrible than the other.

  I sprang into motion, fear now greater than indecision, and hid behind the door. I needed to catch Growl by surprise if I wanted any chance at injuring him. But would that be enough? I had a feeling that Growl was like a bull in the corrida. A few wounds wouldn’t bring him down. An image of Growl with several knives buried in his chest still coming after me flitted through my mind. I needed to aim to kill.

  A new wave of panic washed over me. This wasn’t who I was. This wasn’t who I wanted to be. For the first time in my life I hated my father. He’d brought this upon us, had forced us into a life neither of us had chosen. God, what was happening to Talia? Was she alright? She was too young for this. What if she was given to another mobster? She was only fifteen. I should be there for her, should protect her; instead I wasn’t even sure if I could protect myself.

  Growl’s steps stopped right in front of the room. I quickly shook off my high-heels, then held my breath to hear better and lifted the knife. I’d have to aim for his throat. Even I knew that was the most vulnerable spot on a human’s body. But he had survived an injury to that spot once before. How could I hope to succeed in killing him when others had obviously failed?

  He was much taller than me, so I’d have to drive the knife upwards. I worried that I wouldn’t be able to put enough force behind the stab that way. The door started to open and then Growl’s tall form came into view. Adrenaline pumped in my veins as I lunged at him.

  Growl brought his bare arm up to fend off my attack. The blade sliced along his inked forearm and blood welled up at once. But his face didn’t show pain. He made a grab for my arm but I dodged him, using my smaller form to evade him. I slammed the knife upwards again, almost blindly. With a low sound deep in his throat, Growl gripped my wrist. I cried out in pain from the force of it and dropped the knife.

  Cold fear slammed through me as I watched my only weapon land on the floor with a resounding cling. My eyes shot back up.

  Growl’s face was a mask of nothing but I didn’t kid myself into thinking that he wasn’t furious. This man had killed people for lesser transgressions. I jerked back but his fingers around my wrist were relentless. That didn’t stop me though. I only had this one chance. He could very well decide I wasn’t worth the trouble and kill me.

  I kicked at him but missed due to his quick reflexes. He thrust me toward the bed like I weighed nothing. I had no chance of stopping my fall and landed on my stomach on top of the mattress. The air rushed out of my lungs and for a moment I was certain I’d die from lack of oxygen in my body, then I sucked in a deep breath.

  I tried to push myself up but Growl’s muscled body pressed up against my back, trapping me between him and the bed. Panic shot through me. I bucked my hips in an attempt to free herself. When that didn’t work, I lashed out with my arms, trying to hit Growl. With an impatient sound, he turned me around so he straddled my hips and grasped both of my wrists in one palm. Now I had no choice but to look into his face, to look at every inch of his scary body. He’d changed out of his blood-covered clothes and now wore a tight white shirt that was now covered with blood from the wound in his arm.

  His hands were rough and scarred; they looked almost alien-like against my pale skin. A horrible terrified sound pressed out between my lips. Growl’s strange emotionless eyes found mine. His cheekbones and chin were sharp lines in his face. There was nothing soft about that man, least of all his heart.

  His grip on my wrists didn’t loosen. He did nothing except stare. I knew I should look away. Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do if you were faced with a dangerous dog? But I was not just trapped by Growl’s powerful body but also by the terrifying look in his eyes. His breathing was calm, no sign of our fight. For him this was nothing. One of his hands moved lower toward my stomach. My shirt had ridden up during our struggle and revealed the skin beneath. I tensed when Growl put his hand agai
nst my stomach. What was he doing? He stared intently at his hand resting against my paler skin. His fingertips and palm barely touched me. Slowly his gaze rose again to meet mine.

  Growl was watching me like I was an unknown species, something he couldn’t possibly understand. And perhaps that was true.

  I did another half-hearted attempt to free myself but it was almost laughable. Perhaps if he’d been capable of that kind of emotion Growl might have actually laughed about me.

  “Stop,” he ordered calmly.

  And for some reason I did stop.

  GROWL

  He did have a reputation, and he was proud of it. His reputation was feared, respected, and that was a great deal more than anyone ever expected from someone like him. The son of a whore. The bastard. The boy who never spoke.

  He was meant for the gutter.

  He’d never had something to himself, never even dared to dream about owning something so precious. He was the unwanted bastard son who’d always had to content himself with the leftovers of others. And now Falcone had given him what only a few weeks ago had been out of his reach, someone he wasn’t even allowed to admire from afar, one of society’s most prized possessions.

  Thrown at his feet because he was who he was, because they were certain he would break her. He was her punishment, a fate worse than death, a way to deliver the ultimate punishment to her father who had displeased them so greatly.