Finding Us

by S. K. Hartley

  “His father is–”

  “Julius Rowe.” Tate muttered, swiftly cutting me off. “What. The. Fuck.”

  Julius Rowe was the lead member of a rival mafia family: to be more exact, the rival of my mafia family. Yeah, completely fucked up. There’s been hate between the two families for nearly two decades, each one trying to get to the top and stay there.

  The mafia are like a family: mostly made up of blood relations, but from time to time the top bosses bring in some outsiders. They were all loyal and were trusted. You didn’t get anywhere in the mafia unless you’re trusted, as soon as that trust had gone, so did you.

  The Knoxx and Rowe families had been on tender hooks ever since the Rowe family’s fuck up over ten years ago when their men took out the wrong person in the Knoxx family. They took out someone who was female, blonde, and in her early teens. They took out the wrong girl. That bullet was meant for me.

  “Everything is a lie… everything,” Tate mumbled, throwing his hands over his face and slowly sliding his back down the wall beside the door.

  My stomach suddenly dropped. Gone was Willow Knoxx; in her place was Low Parker. The mask was back on. My grip loosened around my Glock as my heart pounded, the sound deafening to my ears. What was I doing? I had pointed a fucking gun at Tate, the one man who didn’t take my shit. Now I’m threatening to shoot him? Oh god.

  “Baby-” I started, but my mouth quickly shut, and I quivered.

  Tate’s eyes were laced with so much fire, and I was quickly feeling the burn. It scorched me from the inside, the intensity catching me completely off guard. The slow burn crept from my toes to the very tips of my fingers, encasing me completely in flames. I gasped as the Glock dropped from my hands, landing with a thud on the ground.

  Gone was the trained killer, gone was the cocky attitude. In their place was the woman who was completely head over heels in love with the man who was crumbling on the floor.

  “Are we a lie, Low? Was everything we had a lie?” Tate asked as he slowly moved from the floor to stand before me.

  Was it a lie? No. It had never been lie with Tate, with my feelings for him. I may have lied about who I was, but my heart told only the truth. Tate owned me, and my heart was breaking knowing I have to let him go.

  “No, Tate. We aren’t a lie,” I whispered, staring into his eyes.

  “Then why are we standing here like this? You lied about who you were, Low. I feel like I don’t even know you,” he muttered, pushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

  My body quickly covered in goosebumps from his touch, my body recognizing him, only him. Ten minutes ago I could have walked out of that door and not looked back, knowing what I was doing may have broken my heart, but in turn saved the man who held it within his hands.

  “You do know me, Tate, you have known me right from the beginning. You’re the only person who really knows me.”

  His hands cupped my face as he leaned in close, so close that his breath caressed my lips.

  “No. No, I don’t. Ace… Jace, whatever his name is, knows you like no one else. How can I compete with that?” he whispered before ever so slowly grazing his lips across mine.

  I whimpered from the sudden heat that ignited my bones, grabbing onto his shirt, trying to stay up right. Heat. It was everywhere. My lips, my skin, my bones… my heart.

  “Jace isn’t even in the running. It’s only you, it’s only ever been you,” I whispered breathlessly.

  He was so close, so close I was sure he could hear my heart pounding against the cage of my chest. My hands flexed around the cotton of his shirt, as if holding on for dear life, not wanting to let him go.

  “Then why does it feel like you’re about to walk out that door with him?” he whispered before placing a feather light kiss to the crook of my neck. “And never come back.”

  Everything tingled from the smallest of touch as pain sliced through my chest. He knew, we all knew. I was going to walk out of that door and run again, but it was the best thing for everyone. If my father was to catch up with us, there would be blood, and it could well be Tate’s. I wasn’t willing to risk him being hurt.

  “I have to go, Tate. I love you. I always will, but it’s because I love you that I have to leave you. You can’t come with me, baby, I can’t let you do that. I’m so sorry.”

  A sob broke free from my lips as the realization of what was about to happen took hold: I was about to leave the man I loved because of the man I despised. My father was notorious for being a ruthless man. If you didn’t do as he ordered, you were punished, and the punishment would be painful. Now my father was just the tip of the iceberg. My brother had me up against a very heavy, very solid brick wall and I couldn’t see anyway out from my vulnerable position.

  Tate sighed in defeat against my neck, his breath like a soft caress against the sensitive flesh. I couldn’t help but cling to him, holding on for as long as I could.

  “I love you, Low,” Tate whispered as he pulled back and looked deep into my eyes, pausing for a moment. “I need to come with you.”

  “Tate.” I sighed. “If you make one move to follow me I will shoot you. Don’t think I won’t. I love you, but this is for your own safety.”

  “I-” he started but was quickly cut off by a banging against the door.

  “It’s time to go, Willow,” Ace said as he opened the door slightly.

  I nodded hard. My eyes landed on my case propped up against the wall beside the door. It was definitely time. Keeping my gaze on my case, I walked to it and picked it up. I couldn’t look at Tate. If I did, I was sure I would crumble and stay. I couldn’t stay.

  As I sidestepped to the door, my foot hit something on the floor. Looking down I spotted my second Glock. I needed it now more than ever, but if I knew my brother and Spyder well, they would already know about Tate. He was now a part of the mess that had been created over a decade ago. He needed protection.

  Picking up the Glock, I handed it over to Tate. His eyes were weary as he took it from my hands, looking down at the gun before looking back up to me. He started to say something before I cut him off, making sure he understood.

  “Just in case,” I whispered before running for the door, quickly leaving the room.

  My heart shattered within the confines of my chest, splintering and breaking into tiny little pieces as Ace followed me down the stairs and out of the building.

  “We should go on foot for the first couple of miles,” Jace mumbled beside me.

  I felt the warmth of a hand against the waistband of my jeans, then the weight of a Glock against my skin. Turning, I watched as Jace discreetly placed my trusty Glock back into my waistband. The weight was heavier. He had loaded it for me.

  I gave him a small smile as he took the case from my hands. We walked from the campus in silence, not once looking back at the place we called home for so long.

  “My heart hurts,” I admitted out loud as we rounded the corner to a residential street.

  “Good,” Jace said, stopping mid-stride.

  Turning, he placed both hands upon my shoulders and stared straight into my eyes.

  “That’s what separates you from that world. You have compassion, sympathy, and empathy. It is what makes you different from your father, from the mafia world. You were not meant to be a killer, Willow. You’re placed here to love, and be loved. But we can’t control our past, or the world that we come from. Every girl deserves a love that can make her heart forget that it was ever broken.”

  His words seared through my chest like a sharp blade, penetrating my skin with so much force it left me breathless. He was right, we can’t control our past, but I was determined to control my future.

  “Come on, the Escalade is just around the cor-”

  “Oh fuck!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tires squealed and brakes screeched all around us. My heart leapt into my throat, restricting my breathing as I took in the scene in front of me. Two blacked out trucks and an unlicense
d car stopped haphazardly in the middle of the road: it could only mean one thing.

  I had been found.

  Instinctively, I reached for my Glock, wrapping my hand around the grip I was ready to take on whoever got out of the vehicles. I suddenly stopped when Jace’s voice penetrated my ears, telling me to keep my hands out of my waistband. He was right: if I pulled out a weapon, they would shoot me in the foot. A flesh wound, enough to cause searing pain but not enough to kill me. I dropped my hands to my side as a mob of men jumped out from the confines of the trucks.

  “Stay smart,” Jace grunted as a thick black sack was placed over his head.

  Three men walked Jace towards one of the trucks. He didn’t once struggle against the hold of the men. He knew he was collateral damage; he knew that they could kill him without a thought or care. Me? I was the prize, the one that they wanted. Jace was just along for the dangerous ride.

  I watched as Jace was bundled into the back of the truck, and tears pricked my eyes at the loud slam of the door shutting. Then my whole world turned to darkness. My wrists were bound behind my back, by the painful bite of a cable tie, the clicking of it moving into place made my body shudder with fear. God only knew what was in store for me.

  I didn’t struggle. It was pointless. If I struggled it would only give the men more reason to wound me, and I didn’t have the energy to deal with the pain I knew they could inflict. It suddenly felt like I was flying into the air, my ass hitting a solid surface only moments later.

  “Ooof!” I winced.

  Pain rocketed through my spine, rattling my neck as I tried to lean against another flat surface. It was no use. I presumed I had been thrown into the middle of the truck, so if I leaned back I would fall onto my back, and then I would be even more vulnerable than I already was.

  “Time to get you home to daddy, Little Willow.”

  Fuck. My father was behind this. Terror filled me. Dominic was expecting me. I was going to be killed.

  The husky voice came from my left; he was close to the sack that covered my head. I could feel his fowl breath against the shell of my ear. I held in the retch sitting at the back of my throat. I knew that voice, it had haunted my dreams for years.

  “Nice to see my father has demoted you to head bitch.” I growled, turning my head to the left ever so slightly, ensuring he knew I was talking to him.

  “Fuck,” I hissed as a jab rocketed into my side.

  The sharp throb burned through my ribcage, the force of the blow taking the air straight out of my lungs. That wasn’t smart. I needed to reign in my stupidity and smart mouth, it wouldn’t get me anywhere.

  “Your cockiness doesn’t work with me little Knoxx, cut the shit,” he grunted beside me.

  I stayed silent. There was no use lowering myself and becoming a human punching bag. The journey was slow and painful. I knew instinctively they were detouring, ensuring no one was on their tail before they got to their destination. I tried to make sense of where we were, counting the corners as we took sharp turns. It was no use. They had taken at least twenty corners, and we had driven at least ten miles between. But I knew the destination; it was an image I would never be able to rid my mind of.

  The Manor.

  I calculated we had been in the truck for around forty minutes, maybe more, before we finally came to a stop. The sound of the gates screeching against the hinges indicated we were right back at the place I ran from all those years ago. I had no idea how I was going to get out of this. I didn’t have enough time to even plan an escape before the truck doors slammed open and I was being hauled out by the scruff of my jacket. The toes of my Chucks scraped against the rough surface of the ground while some douchebag dragged me along.

  My ears pricked as I heard the slam of a second truck, the grunting of around six men told me they were hauling Jace along with me. Jace was twice the muscle mass of an average male, obviously making it difficult for him to be dragged along.

  My skin noticed the temperature change before I did, the goosebumps that once covered my skin disappearing instantly. We were inside. I felt the different in surfaces as we were dragged through the Manor. Moving from hard ground, which I presumed was the hardwood flooring, to a soft textile beneath the toes of my Chucks, before swiftly changing back to hard.

  My heart was still in my throat and my stomach in my ass as we came to a stop. I was pulled upright and I heard the distinct sound of heavy feet leave the room. I was alone. That meant Jace was somewhere else in the Manor, which wasn’t good. I didn’t try to move, nor did I try to free my hands of the cable tie; as painful as it was, it would be much worse if I did.

  “Take off the sack,” I heard an unknown voice grunt in front of me.

  I had gotten too much into my own head, I hadn’t even heard anyone come in the door, never mind approach me. I suddenly had to blink back against the harsh light as the sack was pulled from my head, but the light still penetrated when I closed my eyes.

  Shaking my head, I managed to keep my eyes open and squinting against the light, I took in my surroundings. The room looked exactly the same as it had ten years ago. In front of me stood a grand fireplace, antique in style and burning brightly before me. The room was large, a mixture of deep reds coated the walls, while a mixture of dark and light gold accentuated the historical fixtures that ran along the tops of the walls. The same dark oak hardwood floor stared back at me as I looked down, the same flooring I had been accustomed to nearly a decade ago. Moving my gaze, I assessed the furniture. Lining the wall to my left was a large bookcase, housing classic literature of the last century, no doubt all first editions. To my right was a large dining table with twelve chairs: the meeting table. I was in the meeting room.

  A cough came from my left and I hardened my gaze. The person on the receiving end of my glare smirked when we locked in an unblinking battle. It was Moz, the man who had spoken to me in the back of the truck. I took in his appearance from the shoulders up. He had gotten more portly, the muscle once carried on this thick shoulders had all but disappeared, turning to fat. His hair had receded so much it looked as if he had shaved right to his scalp. His eyes held mine as I investigated the rest of him; his eyes had become more grey and cloudy, then I noticed the wrinkles. He had aged. A lot. He was no longer someone of importance either; he had been demoted, by the looks of things.

  The door clicked open, and Moz was the first to break eye contact. Walking through the door was a group of six men who looked to be hauling Jace into the room, the sack still secured over his head. He was placed beside me, the sack whipped from his head. Flicking my gaze over, I gasped. Jace’s face was laced with red blotches, some already starting to turn a deep blue in color. My gaze dropped to his lips, they were covered in blood from a small gash at either side.

  Suddenly the door was thrown wide open as more men piled into the room, only stopping to drop off two more limp bodies. Once they were placed beside us, they removed the black sacks from their heads. I gasped. Lying semi-conscious on the floor beside us was my half-brother Dominic, and his vile little minion, Nicolai.

  “Did you stay smart?” Jace mumbled, wincing as he turned his head to me.

  “Barely,” I muttered back, a smirk taking over my lips.

  Jace chuckled before quickly wincing; it seemed they had given him a good beating before bringing him into the room.

  I could feel eyes on me, making my skin prickle with every passing second. Looking up, I noticed eight men staring right at me, never breaking contact with me. I couldn’t help but release a growl at the disgusting men that stood before me.

  “She got her mother’s good looks,” one grumbled to another.

  “Yeah, but Mr. Knoxx’s temper,” another muttered before exiting the room, leaving only Moz and us in a stand off.

  I rolled my eyes: I was nothing like my father. And sure enough, as if on cue, the door clicked open and in waked the man whom I called Dad.

  I straightened, my younger self stiffening at the sight
of him. Obedient as ever.

  Jaxson Knoxx took six long strides and stood in front of me, casting a wary eye over my face. I noticed the deep set wrinkles before I noticed anything else; he had also aged, the years unkind to his appearance. It must’ve been all the whiskey he consumed. His bright blue eyes scrutinized me hard as he walked around me, checking each and every available surface of my skin. I shuddered, his eyes were always my pitfall, the only thing that could make me quiver in fear, but also disgust.

  “You’re skinnier than I thought you would be,” he said in a clear and husky voice.

  He finally stopped his investigation of me, making his way to the mantle above the fireplace and pulling out a Cuban. He chuckled as he clipped off one end and pulled the other to his lips. Moz walked over with a lighter and lit the end of his cigar. He couldn’t light his own cigar now? I rolled my eyes, but swiftly ended my minor rebellion as my father glared at me.

  “You also have a disgusting attitude, it’s very unbecoming of you, Little Willow.”

  My name rolled off his tongue with distaste as he took a long pull on his Cuban. Smug piece of shit. My head quickly whipped to my right when I heard the deep chuckle from Jace. Oh god.

  “Something amusing, Mr. Rowe?” my father sneered, taking a step towards him, “You’re not in the best position here, young man, so I suggest you keep that foul mouth of yours shut.”

  Jace’s body language didn’t once waver as my father leaned in close to his face. My father growled, his lip curling in disgust.

  “What the fuck do you want, Knoxx?” I asked, my voice cool and calm, a stark difference to the quivering of my insides.

  Deep laughter filled the room at my outburst. My father wiped his eyes as he tried to control the laughter that erupted from his bulging stomach. Soon, Moz was in fits of laughter. It only made my blood boil and my head throb. My father was goading me in a way he knew would get to me.

  “What do you think I want, oh stupid daughter of mine?” he said once the laughter had subsided. “I want you, at the head of that table.”