by Leah Holt
“Slow down, Vince, you get my sloppy seconds.” Tony's hand wrapped around my neck, lifting me up on my knees.
“I don't care, either way I'm going to fuck her till she bleeds.” Vince bent down, twirling a strand of my nappy hair around his finger. “You'll like that, won't you?”
Pulling saliva up from the back of my throat, I let it fly right into his face. “Fuck you too, Asshole.”
Vince's face went from excited to sour, grimacing instantly. And in one quick snap, he swung the butt of the gun across my cheek. I could hear the cracking of bone under the metal object, my jaw shattering and displacing in agonizing pain.
Falling to my side, I gripped my face and moaned. The pain was surreal, hitting and igniting a fire that spread over my body.
I don't deserve this. I only wanted a better life.
Not this, not what I had.
“There you go, Sweetheart, lay down. That's exactly where I want you anyway.” Tony slid his hand over my thigh, curling his finger into my panties, and tearing them off. I tried to fight him again, despite the crushing throb in my jaw.
But he had me pinned down, I couldn't kick him, couldn't hit him. His hands were tightly wrapped around my wrists, holding my arms above my head. Lowering down, his hips kept me in place, knees bracing my legs open.
And the tears I had been holding filled my lids to the point I couldn't hold them back anymore. They came hard and fast, rushing out with so much force and emotion that I couldn't breathe.
Vince was standing over us, smiling and chuckling, while his hand found his cock to stroke it slowly. I was sick to my stomach, ready to throw up. This couldn't be happening, it just couldn't be.
Closing my eyes tightly, I wished myself to wake up. To wake up and be at Remo's house, in his bed, in the sick safety he had harbored me with.
Either place I honestly didn't want to be in. But at Remo's, I knew my place, I knew what to expect.
At least until he grew tired of me. That was his threat, his line to keep me good, to keep me at the mercy of his ways.
But I never let that thought flutter through my head. Because I wouldn't let him tire of me, I was determined to live.
Shit. Is this what he meant?
Is this what he was talking about?
My family had made the sale with more rules then Remo had wanted, but he was so eager to have what no one else had that he was willing to put up with it.
I tried desperately to force my thoughts into a happy place, to remove myself from my body, and not feel what Tony was about to do.
His fingers eagerly tore at his pants, tugging at the button, and feeling for the zipper. I tried not to look at his eyes. They scared me, there was no life, no emotion, no feelings or care for another person.
He was a living zombie, death in the form of a human body . . .
Except he wasn't human.
As he worked at his pants, Vince watched like a he was actually enjoying what was happening. And as the world was about to collapse around me, and kill me yet again . . .
A calm, deep voice rained down above my head. His tone was thick, smooth, flowing like cognac.
A voice I knew, but couldn't place, a voice that saved me for the moment.
“Get the fuck off her. You don't touch her, no one touches her.” A gun was being aimed at Tony's head, the unknown man set back in a shadow covering his face.
“Boss man, I was just tasting the merchandise. Come on, I deserve that, I did all the dirty work to get her here.” Tony held his hands up, eyes large and wide.
“Wrong answer, Tony.” A loud click echoed in the shadows, Tony's brows drew up, hands shaking briefly. Fear had stained his face for that one second, only to wash his skin in white.
BAM! The shot rang out, slicing my eardrums like a serrated knife.
“No one touches her. Now clean this mess up.” Waving the gun, he motioned towards Vince.
I wanted to look up, but I kept my face on the floor. Forcing every muscle in my body to keep still, I curled my legs up into my chest and waited.
I wasn't sure what I was waiting for; a verbal assault, a reprimand for having forced his hand to kill one of his own, an onslaught of pain for bringing this on him.
But the faceless man's voice calmed my nerves and I couldn't explain why.
His voice stopped my heart, and breathed life back into my soul.
I was alive.
I was untouched.
But for how long?
Two
Ivy
Holy shit.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I just watched a man's execution.
I didn't want to think about what had just happened, it was too hard to process. But it was real. Tony was right there, breathing, talking . . . Then he wasn't.
Yes, he was just about to violate me in the worst way possible, and take the last bit of myself I had left; but I still felt sorry for him, sorry for how his life had been cut.
I shouldn't, I shouldn't care about that man.
But that didn't mean I wanted him dead.
Or did I?
I didn't try to help him. I didn't try to speak up and stop the shadowed man.
No. I let him do it and did nothing.
Could I have that much evil and hatred inside me?
Or was I just a product of the life I had been given?
My eyes were closed. I shut them tight out of habit. It had saved me so many times before, and all I could hope for was that it would save me now.
If I didn't see his face then maybe he'd let me go. I couldn't identify a man I didn't know.
Right?
But that voice . . .
There was no way in hell that voice would ever escape my memory. Those words would play forever in my head, and I knew the sound of his voice was something that would always be crystal clear in my ears.
I was grateful for him stopping the brutal act about to be forced on my body, but now there was a feeling of owing him my life.
He had saved me, and yet I was still at his mercy.
Coddling my knees, I counted inside my head. One, two, three . . .
It was first thing my mind went to. When I was a little girl I used to get panic attacks, and I hated them. It always felt like I was dying. The air would get thin, my chest would feel heavy like there was a boulder that had just dropped onto my ribs. It was horrible and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't always control them.
My father used to sit me down when it would happen, he'd hold my arms, and speak slow and soft. He'd tell me to close my eyes and count, then he'd make these loud exaggerated breathing noises for me to try and follow.
For a long time I thought it was silly, and as I fought for air I would curse him under my breath.
But it worked. I had to give him that, if nothing else.
It was a panic attack that swept me into the hands of a monster, leaving me with little answers and no resolve. I had to try and fit the whole scenario together myself, there was no way in hell I'd allow Remo's answers to be the solid truth.
I wasn't letting that happen again. I wasn't going to let my body rule my conscience. I was already vulnerable and trapped, a black out wouldn't give me what I needed.
I felt my chest start to squeeze, my throat closing slowly as the air became tarnished and hard to take in.
No. Not now, not right now!
Between the numbers floating inside my head, I could hear the two men in the room, hear the sound of Tony's body being dragged away. The scratching of his clothes against the ground screeched like nails on a chalk board. Feet thumped around me, pounding the ground like an earthquake.
But I just kept counting.
I didn't want to know anything, not about what they were doing or where they were taking him. The less I knew the better. At least that was what I figured.
There was talking, whispering, and hard grunts filtering into my head. “How the fuck did she get loose?” The shadowed man spoke with assertion, demanding the an
swers he looked for.
I could tell by his voice that he was pissed, the darkness to his tone poured salt on my wounds. What is he going to do with me?
The episode was passing and everything around me was coming back in. The smell, the dripping pipe . . . It was all there.
Vince was speaking so soft I couldn't hear what he was saying. But I heard the other man clear as day. He didn't bother one bit to cover up his anger over what went down.
“You fucking piece of shit. Rope—you used fucking rope? Do I need to do everything around here? Can't you jerk-offs even handle one simple fucking task?”
There was a quick mumble that was immediately cut off by the dominant man. “No.” His tone was harsh and commanding. “Don't you say a fucking word, Vince.”
Their silence was brief, making me wonder if the man was holding the gun to his head, too. Vince was begging, his plea shaken and filled with fear.
Quiet words went soundless through the air, the man's voice filling the empty space. “I don't care. You fuck up anymore, and I swear . . .” Vince let out a weak but audible yelp. “So help me, Vince, I will kill you too.”
Shit! What the hell do I do now? Burying my head into my knees, I tried to think.
But I was empty. There was nothing to do but wait.
Footsteps clicked beside me, stopping with a heel scuff. “Get up.”
I didn't move or open my eyes. I let the numbers keep rolling. Fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three . . .
The voice came in again, louder and more demanding. “Get up.”
Bracing myself, I opened my eyes and looked up. Drawing in a quick breath, his face was no longer dark and unknown. I knew the man who saved me. And my heart sank like lead deep into my chest, my pussy clenching for a momentary second.
Dante Pisani.
I remembered him and the night his soft lips had left their mark on my skin. It was the only memory that hadn't been tainted by pain or torture in the past month. He seemed so unlike the person whose name had been mentioned in distaste and hatred.
That night I felt a side to him that went unseen. And all that was left by an introduction and kiss to the back of my hand.
Right then, right in that dusty room, I saw what everyone else talked about. The room was dark but his presence was darker. The air was thick and warm, but it was his breath that caused it.
He was the oldest son to the biggest crime family around, a man whose reputation for instilling fear went far beyond his name. Dante was part of a line of Pisani's who ran the city and everything in it.
A bright gray suit painted his body, hugging his broad shoulders, and curving perfectly in at his ribs. It looked like it was made specifically for him, trimmed to fit every trench and arc of muscle his frame had to offer.
His skin was a deep olive tone, hair black as night. But it was his eyes, the deepness I saw, and the stillness beneath; that was what scared me. The brown was highlighted in gold sparks, pupils so black I could see my reflection hovering inside.
Shoving my palms into the harsh ground, my back slammed deeper into the cement wall. “You?”
His gaze bore into my gut, holding me frozen in place. “Did you hear me? I said get up. Don't fucking piss me off any more than I already am.” His hands were hanging by his sides, fingers still wrapped around the butt of his gun.
“Why are you doing this?” Fear had kept me down, leaving my legs numb, and my skin crawling with millions of tiny bugs. Sweeping my arms over each other, I tried to wipe the feelings away.
They didn't leave, only enhancing into tremors that I couldn't stop.
Squatting down, his eyes were ice across my skin. Goosebumps shot over my flesh, my lungs engorged and failing me at the same time. Leaning in, his lips rested beside my cheek. “This is the last time I'm going to tell you to get up.”
The heat off his mouth radiated over my skin, forcing my body to warm. Swallowing hard, I pressed my hands into the floor and pushed myself to my feet. “Did Remo send you for me? Is he behind this?” Any thought I might have had before about my current state of dress had completely dissolved.
I was naked from the waist down, dirt layering my knees, sand sticking to my cheeks where the tears had spread. But I didn't care, I wanted answers.
I deserve answers.
Chuckling in a deep tone, Dante shook his head, dragging a hand through his hair. “Let's go.”
“Answer me! Did Remo tell you to do this?!” My fingers dug into my palms, the nails burying so deep I felt the skin pop.
“Alright, looks like we're doing this the hard way.” Shoving his gun into the trim of his pants, he lunged forward, scooping his arms around my waist, and slinging me over his shoulder. “If you can't follow directions, then we'll do this my way.”
I tried to fight him, kicking my legs and pounding my fists against his back. But it did nothing. There wasn't a damn flinch in his stride. He was a wall of hardened rock, thick muscles built his long back, strong arms wrapped around my hips, holding me in place.
“Fuck you! Fuck this! Let me go!” Tossing my body around, I did everything I could to try and get him to drop me.
I didn't care if I landed face first on the ground, breaking teeth, and crushing my eye sockets. I wanted to be as far away from him and from this place as I could get.
Squeezing me tighter, Dante kept his pace long and firm. “Scream all you want, no one is going to hear you.” His voice was laced in humor and threat, teasing my freedom.
Red glazed my insides, turning any fear I had into a torture chamber of pure rage.
Fuck him!
“You're going to pay for this! You're fucking dead!” Squirming and shrieking, I jostled my body across his shoulder, scratching and clawing at any piece of him my hands could touch. “Do you know who I am?”
Dante didn't say a word, the only sound he made was a deep, hollow laugh.
My threats weren't felt, they weren't feared. He wasn't afraid of me.
And why would he be?
I was a woman who was owned, who wasn't loved. I was a slave, and not worth the life I had been given.
Lifting my head, I wanted to look and see where I was. Maybe it was somewhere I'd recognize, someplace I'd be able to catch my bearings and know which way to run if I had the chance.
I wasn't giving up on the idea of getting away. He might be holding me now, but he couldn't hold me forever.
The hall was dark, the air still thick and soiled with dust. The walls were dirty and made of worn down brick, the floor a mirror image of the room we had just left.
Passing an open doorway, my eyes scanned inside, and a scream caught the back of my throat. The room was covered in plastic, dimly lit and shadowed. But I knew what I saw.
And it was something I couldn't un-see.
Vince was hovering over Tony's body, holding a hand saw. Tony had gone from a monster to an arm-less torso.
The scream I held onto faded away, my stomach twisting and taking its place making me gag.
“You might want to shut your eyes again.”
“You're fucking sick, just like your asshole friends.” Covering my lips, I forced my stomach to steady. I wasn't sure how long these men had me, but I didn't want to lose what was left in my stomach all over Dante's back.
“No, that's where you're wrong. I'm nothing like them. I'm the one you should be afraid of.” The way he said it sent chills up my spine.
That wasn't a threat, or some weak excuse to instill fear inside me. His statement was spoken with truth, with certainty.
“Why are you doing this?” Speaking into his back, I let my body go limp. Dante didn't answer. I guess I wasn't privy to that information. “If you just let me go I won't say anything.”
“Shut up.”
“I promise, I won't. Please, just let me go.” I had no clue what he was planning to do with me, or where he was taking me.
Why the fuck am I here?
What the hell is going on?
My eyes closed t
ight again, forehead pressing into the firm muscles surrounding his spine. I didn't want to give up, I wasn't ready. But I was tired.
The tears began to fill my eyes, the fear of losing myself again to another man made me sick. I hated crying, and I had gotten really good at locking away the tears.
But all of this . . . It was just too much.
Haven't I been through enough?
What the fuck did I do to deserve this shit?
“Let go of my shirt.”
Opening my eyes, I hadn't realized in my momentary collapse that I had curled my fingertips into the fabric of his back, bunching it up in my palms.
Releasing my grip, I let my body dangle. I didn't want to admit defeat, but he wasn't letting me go. I was trapped—again.
The clank of a door broke the quiet of the hallway, the fresh air zipped in and filled my lungs. It felt good to be outside and out of that dungeon.
But how long would this last?
Taking a deep breath, the scent of mint and musk filled my nose. His cologne was enticing and infuriating all at the same time. I had this urge to breath him in more, and the need to push him away. I didn't like having that turmoil float itself into my brain.
This man had taken me, this man was holding me hostage. And I was supposed to hate him, not enjoy the way he smelled.
The energy I felt drain from my body came back in a wave of fire. The adrenaline purged my veins, wreaking havoc on my muscles. My legs flailed wildly, arms raining down on his back.
And still it did nothing.
Fuck! Fuck!
Dante's free hand dug in his pocket, the sound of keys jingling rang in my head. I heard the pop of a door, and felt his body start to lean over. Lifting a hand to my lower back, he flipped me over like a rag-doll, tossing me into the trunk of a car.
“No! No! Stop, please!” His glare set on my face, eyes empty but whole, lifeless yet alive.
Then black.
The lid was slammed shut, his feet making gentle taps as he walked around the car to the front. The engine surged to life, and I felt the ground shift beneath me.
