Pakhan's Rose

by V. F. Mason

  “Dominic.” Damian’s voice only infuriated the already raging inferno in my heart.

  “You promised me protection. Promised me you’d take care of it. I trusted you. And you failed me,” I said, with menace and fury I hadn't expected from myself. Ignoring the sharp intake of breath behind me, I continued, “Now my woman is in danger. And I fucking blame you.”

  “Dominic—”

  Spinning around, I gazed at my brother, who was my rock and strength in the darkest times of my life. My protector. My best friend. My only family. But we weren't those boys anymore, and the resentment building inside me through all the years yearned to rise and destroy everything in its wake.

  “She is like a sister to me.” His voice was tense, posture stiff. “She means something to me too.”

  “Not enough, or you would have kept her safe.” Passing him to go back to the office, our shoulders bumped and I didn't fucking care. My brother had everything, down to his woman and his child, while I lost again.

  Seemed like all I did my entire life was lose.

  “You need to see this, man,” Connor said, plunging the USB into the laptop as a video started to play. “We found it in the envelope.” Bianca was lying on the floor, chained, sobbing quietly, while Alfonso ‘played’ with two other victims, who were as hopeless as she was. He laughed, he enjoyed, and he was thrilled at what he was doing.

  “Crazy as fuck,” Michael muttered, his face turning green from all the details on the screen.

  “Do you recognize the place?” I addressed Don, who shook his head.

  “No, our mafia house doesn't own such property. It looks like a basement, and with all the crying all those poor women are doing, someone would have heard and let me know.” His voice was anger-filled as the glass in his hands shattered. “I’m going to kill him.”

  “I’ll kill him first.” Then, I asked Luke, “Do you have any clues?”

  “No.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Blank.”

  “Bingo!” Connor shouted, and then quickly grabbed his phone, dialing Melissa. “We need you to quickly get the team to the edge of the city, near the ocean. Around four to five hours from here.” Then he hung up, rose, and clapped his hands. “I know where he’s taken her.”

  And with that, all hell broke loose.

  Rosa

  Coughing, I emptied my stomach one more time to the floor while Alfonso slumbered on the dead girl’s neck… or what was left of it anyway. Acid burned my throat, and I desperately wanted to clean it up, but that would require me to actually open my eyes, and I couldn't do it.

  Not after he pulled her teeth, fingernails, and eyes out.

  Not after he bit her skin to the point of bleeding and sucked every drop. Not after he chopped her body on the table, laughing and enjoying it, and then placed her eyes in a bowl, for his collection, he said.

  Sick, fucked up man.

  “Rosa, Rosa. Here I thought you’d be stronger, given your past experiences.” Compared to him, Erik was a saint. Even his soft and husky tone disgusted me, bringing the nausea all over again.

  The sound of metal scratching and then heavy footsteps belonging to more than one person were heard in the distance. “We’ve got company.” Without looking at him, I could already see his sadistic, satisfied smile that would haunt me for the rest of my life.

  Dominic

  Krasavica, just survive these hours.

  The thought kept running through my mind as we sped to the location, four cars front, four cars back, and guns ready to attack.

  While we did that, I desperately searched for a connection, any hint of why he would target us both at the same time. Why would he hate us so much? Because if he just wanted to kill us, then he wouldn't have used Rosa—the one person connecting me with Don—as a measure of revenge.

  4 Hours Later

  Rosa

  The blood dripped from my nose as pain rushed through me from the blow of the man’s fist, and I had to bite my lips hard so no sound would escape.

  He would get no satisfaction from his action.

  “A Cosa Nostra’s princess and the pakhan’s woman,” the man proclaimed greedily. “Never thought I’d fuck one of those.” He licked his knuckles while groaning in pleasure, tasting my blood. I barely contained my gag reflex, my stomach flipping inside me. His constantly shifting eyes scanned my body and clothes, or rather, what was left of them. The glint in them at my nakedness couldn't be ignored. “I’ll enjoy tasting their little Rose.” Slowly, he started to take his clothes off, piece by piece, and his disgusting, toned skin covered in various scars, which looked more like nail scratches, came to light. He had a huge dragon tattoo, located right in the middle of his chest. It was almost a crime putting such a magnificent animal on this fucker’s skin.

  His two bodyguards chuckled, their guns pointed at me, but I could see the hint of lust in their gazes. They were aroused by everything the man did—fuckers. Normal people wouldn't have worked for this sick man.

  “You will regret ever touching me,” I warned with a shaky voice, trying one more time to jerk the chains off my hands, but they wouldn't budge. The granite wall behind me scratched my back to the point of bleeding, and I couldn't remember the last time I had food or clean water in my mouth. My eyelids felt heavy, and for some reason, all I wanted was to sleep and forget ever being here, even though I knew I had to be 100 percent focused on the danger in front of me. My legs were numb from the guards kicking them a few hours ago. Fear rushed through me at the idea of never walking again. “Dominic will kill you for laying a hand on me.”

  The man smirked, inhaled his cigarette one more time, and threw it on the floor. “Doubtful, but by the time the precious daddy and boyfriend come, you’ll already be acquainted with my dick a few times.” He palmed his appendage and moaned in pleasure. “Yes, it will be exquisite torture for both of them. Serves them right. I became collateral damage in their war for you. Now, I’ll get the spoils.” With those words, he darted after me, and my scream of terror echoed through the basement.

  For the second time in my life, I was a victim of man’s desire to inflict vengeance for something I had nothing to do with.

  Unfortunately for me, this time I had no hope of surviving.

  The voting had ended.

  I was the new pakhan of the Bratva.

  Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I couldn't help but clench my fists from the rage constantly consuming me after Vasya’s death. I didn't need his place, nor did I want it.

  But for the sake of the organization running smoothly, I would do it.

  Who would have thought I would end up here after the hell I went through? Sure as fuck, not me.

  Never me.

  An hour and a half later

  Dominic

  The car stopped abruptly as we arrived at our destination. An old house appeared in front of us and we hopped to the ground. Based on the description Connor got from the database, the building was a two-bedroom home with a one-car garage. A white picket fence surrounded the brown brick building, while the grass needed some serious gardening. This whole picture reminded me of the movie Pscyho. The hotel she stayed in had the same creepy vibe. It stood right on the edge of New Bern. Why the fuck he would have his torture pad in this state when he lived in another was beyond me.

  “Dominic, do not act without my permission,” Connor ordered, while pulling on his vest and adjusting his guns on his side.

  Getting right in his face, I snarled, “I’m supposed to stand here and wait for him to chop her up?”

  “If you do something to scare him, she might get hurt in the process.” So the FBI agent had awakened in him. Funny how he remembered about him, only when it was convenient.

  “She is already harmed. Fuck this.” Pushing him aside, I stepped in the direction of the front door, when a strong arm stopped me, blocking my way.

  “Dominic, trust me, I understand like no one else. That’s my child in there. But let those people do their j
ob.”

  Don’s firm voice did nothing to calm me down. “You are a fucking Cosa Nostra boss, and now you decide to work with law enforcement?” The Cosa Nostra never even ate in the same restaurant if a cop was present, and the one time he decided to side with them was when Rosa could be killed any moment by his man? I should have never brought her here. Damian and Sapphire be damned, with their wedding and happily ever after.

  “I will, if they ensure her safety.”

  Looking at Damian, Connor, Don, Luke, and even my fucking right hand, Vitya, I understood everyone agreed with this plan. They all wore grim expressions on their faces, while refusing to meet my stare.

  “Each man present here loves her, son,” Luke stated calmly, but I cut him off.

  “I’m not your son. And no one loves her like me.” Only when I said those words aloud, I realized I never told them to her. She never heard them, because they seemed too abnormal, and so small compared to my feelings for her. I didn’t think it was important.

  But how I fucking wished in that moment she had the comfort of knowing she was so deeply loved, loved by a man with a broken soul, loved by a man who couldn’t imagine life without her.

  Fuck all these so-called friends of mine. Their women weren't inside alone with a sociopath who raped and tortured women. Protecting her was solely my responsibility. Everyone else seemed to fail at the task.

  I relaxed my shoulders and leaned on the hood of the car, while the FBI agents lined up in positions to attack, and I watched them with zero interest. As the pakhan, reading people kind of came with the job description. They would buy my calmness, thinking I saw the logic in their explanation. Slowly, the men around me shifted their attention on something else, not blocking the path anymore. Once their sole focus was on Melissa, who rolled open the blueprint and pointed out everyone’s job, I raced to the house to the song of curses and shouts of people behind me. I hadn't made it far, however, as the garage doors rose.

  Alfonso emerged from the house, his shirtless body covered in blood, holding Rosa in his arms, his gun pressed to her temple, naked, with blood spewing from her nose, lips, and various wounds. Her face was slightly blue and swollen from all the torture he inflicted on her. My brows furrowed, as some of them weren't fresh. How could they have healed within thirty hours? Her dark eyes held fear and terror as she screamed, her voice hoarse, “Help,” to no one in particular.

  Why wasn't she locking her stare with mine? Like she was looking straight through me. What the hell did he do to her? “Drop the gun, Alfonso.”

  The fucker laughed. “Not in this life.”

  “Whatever you have against me or her father, hash it out with us.”

  He hopped excitedly, pupils dilated as if he were high. “You don’t even know what’s going on here. The real forces running this show.’’ Grinning like a fool, he licked Rosa’s cheek and she flinched as tears slid down. I advanced, hands on my gun, but he tsked, “Nah-ah-ah. You move, she dies.” He glanced behind me. “Don, a pleasure.” He almost beamed. How the hell was this fucker not on medication or locked up? He must’ve been a great actor to cover up this level of madness.

  “You’re a disgrace to the familia,” Don snarled, his footsteps crunching on the grass as he approached. “Raised by us. Given everything by us. And that’s how you repay us?”

  Alfonso straightened and with each word pounded his chest with his free fist. “I did everything for the familia. Learned. Fought. Did every order. But did you care? No! Instead of giving me the legacy of my father, you made Xavier a consigliere!” The tiny in-ear receivers that Melissa had given us all beeped, and Connor’s voice said quietly, “Good job, Don. We need him distracted. Dominic, do not interfere.”

  Nodding, I indicated my agreement, while Alfonso continued, “So fuck you, Don.” He spat on the grass, a show of disrespect. “But that’s not the only reason for my hate. You two have no idea what is at stake here.” Rosa stirred in his arms, and he bit her neck, sucking on the wound. “I enjoyed her immensely. Her pussy sure is the tightest I’ve ever had.” The red haze of anger and fury crushed me like a ton of bricks, and my fists clenched as I tried to calm the beast. But then…

  “Please, stop hurting me.”

  And with that, I couldn't take it anymore. Her pain, his amusement, my hopelessness.

  When I looked back at this moment later in life, everything would play in slow motion. Me running toward them, Alfonso firing the gun as Rosa’s eyes locked with mine, pleading for mercy. Him throwing her to the ground, and before I could grab him, he pressed the trigger again and killed himself right on the spot. A wide smile on his face, as if he’d finally achieved all his dreams.

  Commands erupted. People running inside the house. Alfonso’s lifeless body lying on the ground. But all my attention was on my woman as I fell on my knees in front of her, hugging her close as blood poured from her neck where he so carelessly shot her. She choked on it, struggling to breathe, as I chanted, “It’s okay, darling.” Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed medics rushing to us. “Help is coming.”

  Her hand fisted my shirt, as she swallowed loudly, and she whispered, “Oliver.”

  Not really listening, I begged, “Shh… don’t talk.”

  With the last strength she had, she murmured again and again, almost like a mantra, “Oliver… Oliver… Oliver.” She froze, her eyes wide open, and then her body relaxed in mine, as her spirit left it.

  Died.

  Died in my fucking arms. “Rosa.” I shook her, not caring for Melissa’s gasp, or the way the men around me observed us with pity and remorse. “Rosa, wake the hell up!” Nothing, her body still warm, the flush on her cheeks, her skin glistened in the sun, but the heartbeat, the heartbeat I listened to every night, was absent.

  No! Fucking no. How could she have left me when I just found her?

  Your purpose, boy, is to serve my clients. You were born for it. Hoping for anything else is stupid. You will never have anything else but this cell.

  A roar echoed on the streets, joined by the cry of pain coming from her father.

  Dominic

  My eyes didn't even blink as I studied the wall in front of me, sitting on the couch and gulping the bottle of whiskey.

  Smashed vases, bottles, stains on the curtains and carpets from all the booze I’d consumed in the last three days. My beard itched when I wiped my chin from the excessive liquid, not to mention my smelly, unwashed body. Standing up and finishing the bottle with one long gulp, I threw it on the floor and it shattered into tiny little pieces, which flew in different directions. Ignoring it, my bare feet stepped on it, walking to the window. The pain didn't even register in my mind.

  After all, the other cuts had already started to fester, leaving bruises and glass inside my skin, but did I fucking care? No.

  Dominic, please save me. Please.

  Her voice always on my mind, the pleading and begging while I watched the fucker hit her on the camera. All the tapes were found after Connor’s team scoured the basement.

  My little Rose suffered before he killed her. Blood, so much fucking blood. I could still feel the weight of it on my hands like dirt that would never go away.

  Hitting the window with my fist, I enjoyed the hurt radiating from my knuckles to my arm and finally to my spine. Good. I deserved it.

  I failed to save the only person who mattered the most to me.

  Please, Dominic.

  Hit. Hit. Hit.

  The door opened, a small bit of light only slightly brightened the moonlit room, and a man in black slowly walked in my direction, his boots stepping on the glass. Finally, he stopped right behind me as our identical amber eyes met in the window, his reflection a mirror image of my own.

  Damian placed his hand on my shoulder, squeezed it, and whispered, “I’m here for you, brother. I’m always here for you.” With those words, the control I barely held onto snapped, and I did the one thing I vowed never to do again.

  I fell to my knees as sobs sh
ook my body to the core.

  My sweet girl was gone, and there was no one to blame but me.

  And just like in our years of captivity, Damian kneeled next to me, wrapped me in his arms, and gave me his strength.

  Somewhere in Italy…

  Florence

  One year later

  My short skater dress covered with colorful blooming roses swirled lightly in the gentle breeze coming from the edge of the sea, and I welcomed it. With my head tilted back, I enjoyed the sunlight on my cheeks. Brown sunglasses protected me from the bright sunlight and allowed me to study the beauty of Florence.

  A magnificent city.

  We were on the main street, where all the shopping happened alongside various cathedrals and buildings filled with famous paintings. One of the best things about this city was the fact that no matter where you went, art surrounded you in its purest and most beautiful form.

  Leonardo Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Rafael. I could have looked at the work of those men forever. Renaissance… the rebirth era, was still my favorite through all the eras.

  “Happy we are here?” Strong hands wrapped around my waist and pulled me back to his muscled chest, and I willed myself not to wince. He pushed the hair from my neck and rested his chin on my shoulder. “You always loved Florence. That’s where I proposed to you.” Oliver’s voice husky and deep did nothing to me, and for the hundredth time, I wondered why I ever considered marrying him?

  Although all those framed photos of us enjoying cruises, Europe, and ski resorts proved we once shared an unbreakable bond. The woman in those pictures seemed in love, even if I couldn't recognize it.

  Not that he wasn't hot, quite the opposite actually. He had a James Dean haircut, blond hair, and olive skin that gleamed perfectly in the sun. His lean yet muscular body caught the attention of many women. The man looked gorgeous in suits.