by J. L. Drake
Fuck. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m acting like a fucking pussy. I quickly took my hands away when I realized what I was doing.
Shaking my head, I stood up and Ayla blinked in surprise. She cocked her head to the side in question but didn’t say anything.
“You look better,” I said.
She licked her dry lips but still looked slightly confused. She was still coming down from her panic attack, so she wouldn’t completely understand what was going on.
I sighed and took her hands in mine, pulling her upward. She stumbled forward and I pulled her up to my chest again before walking out of my bathroom. Ayla laid her head on my shoulder with a sigh.
Stopping in front of my bed, I placed her down and pulled the covers away. She moved under the black comforter and laid down. I tugged it around her body and her eyes started to close sleepily.
Standing up straight, I looked down at Ayla. She looked so innocent lying there. So fragile and vulnerable.
I couldn’t wrap my head around what just happened. Did she have a nightmare? Or was it a memory haunting her?
I didn’t know anything about Ayla. Her identity. Her truth. Her past. Nothing. And I was intrigued. It made me want to uncover her hidden truth.
She sighed sleepily, and when I looked down, she blinked up at me, a small sleepy smile playing across her lips.
I started to walk away but a sudden cry of panic stopped me dead in my tracks.
Quickly swiveling around with my heart in my throat, I saw her sitting up on my bed. Her eyes were wide with terror and indescribable panic.
“No. Please don’t leave me…alone,” she stuttered.
“Ayla,” I started to say, but she shook her head. Moving the comforter away with a rush, she stumbled out of my bed.
“Shit,” I muttered. Quickly moving toward her shaking body, I pulled her up in my arms and placed her on the bed again. She gripped my arm tightly and stared at me with dread.
“Please. Don’t leave me,” she begged, tears streaming down her cheeks.
When I wanted Ayla to beg me to touch her, this wasn’t how I envisioned it happening.
What a fucking mess.
“Hey, hey, hey,” I soothed, sitting down on the bed in front of her. Pushing the strands of her hair behind her ears, so that her face was fully visible to me, I cupped her cheeks reassuringly. “It’s okay. I’m right here. I’m not leaving.”
She hiccupped a sob and her fingers tightened on my arm. “It’s okay,” I said again. Gently grabbing her shoulders, I pushed her down on the bed. After pulling the comforter over her, I patted her knee. “I’m right here.”
I kept my eyes on her as I stood up. She followed my movement with her unflinching but tearful eyes. When I climbed on the other side, Ayla turned and faced me.
We stared at each other, our gazes unmoving as we settled under the comforter.
I didn’t know how long we stayed like that, but eventually her eyes started to droop sleepily, her long dark lashes fluttering against her pale skin. Tiredness took over her body and she went limp. An almost inaudible sigh escaped her lips as she fell asleep, her body cocooned warmly and safely under my comforter and my watchful gaze.
What happened tonight changed everything. It made me want to know more about her. I could make assumptions about what happened to her, but I wanted to hear it from her.
A few minutes later, I closed my eyes as the darkness enveloped me.
The last thing I saw was Ayla’s sleeping and peaceful face.
Chapter 23
Ayla
I felt disoriented and my head was pounding. I blinked my eyes open but then closed them again because of the bright sunlight.
Wait, what?
My eyes snapped open in alarm and I quickly sat up in bed. I wasn’t in my room. I looked down at the soft black comforter. Panic filled my chest; I looked around the strange room. It was familiar to me.
Turning my head to the left, I shrieked in surprise. Alessio was sitting beside me, his back propped against the headboard as he mutely stared at me panicking.
I was in his room.
The last thing I remembered was falling down on my bed tiredly as sleep took over my body and mind. But after that, everything was blank.
“How did I get here?” I asked, bringing the comforter up to my shoulder. Alessio raised an eyebrow at me in surprise.
“You don’t remember?” he asked, his voice gruff from sleep.
I shook my head. He stared at me for a few seconds, the air crackling with tension between us. There was an awkward pause before he continued.
“You came to me last night,” he said.
That didn’t make any sense.
“What do you…you mean?”
He sighed in annoyance. “You had a panic attack. Came to my room, knocked at my door, and begged me to make it go away. I did, and then you fell asleep on my bed,” Alessio explained. When he was done, he stared at me expectantly.
Bringing my hand up to my head, I rubbed my forehead, trying to ease the horrendous headache. When I closed my eyes, sudden clipped images of last night crashed behind my close lids.
My nightmare. The hallucinations. Crying. Begging Alessio to make it stop. I remembered him cleaning my arms, telling me there was no blood on them.
My eyes snapped open and I stared at Alessio in shock. He raised an eyebrow in amusement and made a tsking sound. “Ah, so you remember now.” Embarrassment and shame filled me as I tore my eyes away from Alessio’s penetrating gaze. My throat went dry and my body grew cold.
Silence filled the room. Neither of us moved.
After a few minutes filled with tension, I licked my lips nervously and started to move toward the end of the bed. When Alessio didn’t say anything, I kept my eyes down and pushed the comforter away before getting off the bed.
Just walk away, Ayla. Walk away. Get your thoughts together. Make up an excuse.
I locked my knees together and continued toward my escape.
When I reached the door, Alessio’s voice filled the room. I tensed and my hand froze.
“Are you seriously going to leave without saying anything?” he asked, chuckling under his breath.
That was the plan. I thought he wouldn’t say anything, but clearly I was wrong. How naïve of me that I kept thinking of him as the good guy.
He is the good guy, though, I argued with myself.
“Ayla, turn around,” Alessio ordered in a hard, cold voice.
I stiffened at his tone and swiveled around. My head stayed down, and I refused to look at his judging, questioning gaze.
The bed squeaked, and from the corner of my eyes, I saw him getting up. For the first time I noticed that he was in different attire than usual. He wore grey sweatpants and a long black shirt that was tight over his chest.
He moved toward me, his steps fluid and confident.
When he stopped in front of me, my heart stuttered with anxiety and my stomach twisted with tension.
I knew what he was going ask and I didn’t have the answers to his prying questions. They weren’t answers he would want.
He gripped my chin between his fingers, tilting my head up so I was staring at him. His eyes were cold and I saw anger in them.
A shiver went through me and I tightened my hands into fists, my nails biting into the skin of my palm. The slight pain kept me grounded.
“Explain,” he demanded, his eyes turning into slits.
I couldn’t.
“There is nothing to…explain,” I stammered. At my words, his fingers tightened on my chin and anger coursed through his eyes.
“Ayla, I know when you are lying. And I fucking hate it when people lie to me. It will be better for you if you tell me the truth. Explain what happened last night.”
Angry Alessio was scary. His body tensed and his eyes were deadly cold, showing his true character as the heartless mafia boss.
“I’m telling the truth. It was…just a nightmare.”
; That was the partial truth. He wouldn’t understand the whole truth. He would only see me as the daughter of his worst enemy, not a victim.
“Damn it,” he growled as he released my chin. “You are lying, Ayla.” When he sent me an intense glare, I cowered back a little and quickly looked down.
But lying was keeping me alive. For now.
“No, I’m telling the truth,” I whispered and unknowingly took a step back. He noticed and took a step forward.
“You had a panic attack. You were having hallucinations about blood on you. You were crying. Totally losing it. That. Was. Not. A. Nightmare,” he said, punctuating each word with fury.
“No.” I shook my head. “It was. I have very vivid nightmares.” I quickly made an excuse, desperately hoping he would believe me. And even if he didn’t, I hoped he would let it go.
But being Alessio, he didn’t let it go.
“Did you witness a murder?” he asked, his tone a little gentler than before, but still hard.
At his question, I just wanted to crumple down and cry. My heart ached at the thought. Yes. Yes, I had witnessed a murder. Not one. Not two. But several murders.
Alberto killed them mercilessly in front of me. He never cared about my screams of terror.
Looking Alessio in the eyes, I shook my head. “No,” I whispered. The lie left a bitter taste in my mouth.
His rigid blue eyes narrowed. The burning hard stare caused me tremble with uneasiness and fear.
“Fuck, did you kill someone? Are you running away? Is that it?” His loud, harsh voice boomed around us.
My eyes widened and I flinched at his assumption. Did he really think that I could kill someone?
“No. No.” I shook my head wildly. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Ayla, you were hallucinating about blood on you. So, either you killed someone or you witnessed a murder. Which is the truth?” He was losing patience.
“I didn’t kill anyone, and I didn’t witness any murder. I’m telling the truth. It was just a nightmare. A bad one and I lost it. That’s all.” I stared into Alessio’s eyes and saw the disbelief in them.
So, I tried one last time.
“Please. Believe me. Please.” This time I begged, hoping it would have an effect on him.
He glared at me and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “You may seem innocent, Ayla, but you are so fucking stubborn.”
He took a step closer to me until our bodies were only a breath away.
“I can protect you. If you tell me the truth, I can protect you. So, tell me,” he said.
Oh, how I wanted to believe him. My heart stumbled at his words and my eyes burned with tears. I wished it was true. I wished I really did have someone to protect me.
But Alessio wouldn’t protect me if he knew the truth. He would kill me instead. It was as simple as that.
I couldn’t look into his eyes any longer. Shame and guilt filled my body. Shame for what I had been through. I wasn’t who he thought I was.
I wasn’t innocent.
And then guilt. Guilt because I lied to his face and was living in his house, living off his generosity when I didn’t deserve it.
I also felt confused because I couldn’t understand why I went to him last night. Why did I go to him at my lowest point?
Why was he my peace? Alessio made a frustrated sound and then took a step away from me. My forehead creased in confusion and I slowly brought my head up to look at him.
He stared at me blankly, completely devoid of any emotions.
“Fine,” he said, his voice strangely calm.
What?
This man loved playing with my mind. I could never truly read him.
“You believe me?” I asked in astonishment.
He let out a harsh laugh. “Believe you? No, kitten. I don’t believe you. But I will accept what you are saying for now.” He stepped forward and leaned down so that his lips were next to my ears. “You will eventually tell me the truth. It is only a matter of time.”
His words felt like lashes against my body. I reared back in shock and Alessio stepped away. He gave me a nod and turned around, walking toward his bathroom.
“I will see you at breakfast,” he said, dismissing me without a second glance.
I stared at his back with wide eyes. He closed the bathroom door behind him, hiding his view from me and I let out a sigh of relief. My tensed muscles relaxed but his words kept playing in my head.
It is only a matter of time.
Turning around, I walked out of his bedroom and into my room in a daze.
He was right. It was only a matter of time. How long could I keep hiding the truth?
Chapter 24
Alberto
I walked down to the cold basement, my muscles relaxing at the familiar feeling and smell. When I reached the bottom, I paused and my lips slowly stretched into a smirk.
“Hello, Alfredo,” I said calmly, my voice loud, vibrating around the silent room.
Alfredo’s head snapped up and he sent me a fierce glare.
“You fucking bastard. What is the meaning of this? Let me go,” he roared in fury, as he struggled against the chains around his ankles and wrists.
I chuckled at his failed attempt and leaned against the wall. He’d been chained against the wall, his ankles bound as well as his wrists, bloodied from his struggles. His head was bleeding from where I’d hit him with the back of my gun.
His face was covered with sweat and grime. A few strands of his hair were sticking to his forehead and he was breathing hard from exhaustion. I knew he’d been struggling for hours.
He looked like a poor bastard, a helpless man. I laughed at the thought. He was never fit to be the fucking king. He was too weak. And now it was time for his end and the start of my reign.
I had to get him out of the picture, permanently.
And maybe I’d enjoy it.
“Now, now. Calm down,” I said.
His face turned bright red and he spat at my feet. “Alberto, I’m warning you…” he started, his voice laced with anger. He never got a chance to finish his sentence.
I knelt down in front of him and grabbed his face, my fingers digging deeply into his cheek. I leaned in close and hissed through gritted teeth. “Or what? What are you going to do? Shoot me? Alfredo, let me remind you. You are the one chained to the wall.”
He winced at the pressure I was putting on his cheek and his pain pushed me on. I dug my nails deeper and then moved my hands downward and wrapped them around his neck. His eyes widened when I pressed my hands harder around his neck, choking him.
He struggled, his face turning almost purple, and he gasped for breath. When I saw him starting to lose consciousness, I let him go.
“Now, where were we?” I asked, moving to the chair in the corner. I sat down and leaned back, crossing my left ankle and my right knee and waiting for him.
“Wh…why?” he asked through his coughing fit. After the words were out, he looked up and leveled me with a glare, his eyes showing me exactly how much he hated me.
Shaking my head at his attitude, I shrugged. “It’s simple. I want to be the boss.”
“You fucking shit,” Alfredo roared and tried to stand up, but fell to his knees instead. “After everything I have done for you, this is how you repay me?”
“Aren’t you the one who taught me there’s no gratitude? Gratitude is a show of weakness, isn’t it? After all, we do what benefits us the most.”
“I gave you everything, Alberto. I made you my second in command. I gave you power. I gave you my daughter!”
His begging didn’t faze me. Instead it made me feel powerful.
His life was in my hands. I controlled everything.
Power and dominance coursed through my body as I stared at him struggling against his chains. I couldn’t help but laugh again. It sounded harsh against the walls of the cold cellar.
“I wanted more, Alfredo. And it’s simple, I’ll take it,” I said in respons
e before standing up and slowly walking toward him. He stopped fighting against the shackles and looked at me straight in the eyes.
I saw disgust and hatred there. But none of it mattered. He couldn’t do anything. He was helpless. And he knew it. In the depth of his eyes, I saw resignation and fear.
Moving my hand to my back, I took out my gun and pointed it straight at Alfredo, the barrel in front his forehead, placed in the middle of his eyes. I saw him swallowing hard, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing almost painfully in his throat.
“I handed my daughter to a monster,” he bristled, as the gun was pressed against his forehead. My eyes widened when he mentioned Ayla and sudden intense fury coursed through my body.
Pulling my gun away, I brought it forward with force and smacked the back of it against Alfredo’s cheek. His head snapped to the side and his eyes closed tightly with pain but he never made a sound.
“You are not any better,” I hissed, kneeling down in front of him. Grabbing his chin, I made him look at me before continuing. “Did you forget about Leila, your wife? The same wife you murdered in cold blood because she was fucking a Russian?”
Alfredo’s eyes widened in shock and I laughed at his reaction. “Or what about Lyov’s wife? Ah, that one was the best. Attack their mansion, kill half of his men and then kill the unprotected Maria. She was pregnant, wasn’t she?”
Shaking my head at him, I released his chin and pushed his head back with force. It banged against the wall and this time he winced.
“So you see, you aren’t any better than me. I learned from the best, after all,” I paused and sent him a wink. “But I surpassed the master. You should be proud.”
I saw his fingers tightening into fists and he growled at me. “You fucking bastard,” he bellowed. I had enough. Getting bored of the back and forth, I aimed the gun at his forehead again.
Time for him to meet his maker.
