Morally Ambiguous: A Dark Mafia Romance (Morally Questionable Book 4)

by Veronica Lancet

  She's like a goddess waiting for her offering, lips parted, tongue out, my cum hitting her mouth before settling nicely all over her face.

  "Fuck," I groan, the sight of her covered in my seed undoing me.

  Marked. She's marked.

  She blinks, her eyes focusing on me before a seductive smile appears on her face, her fingers swiping at my cum and bringing it to her mouth.

  "I fucking love you Sisi," I tell her, my hand on her nape as I bring her flush against me, holding her captive as I ravage her mouth with my own, tasting myself on her tongue.

  Wrapping my hand around her wrist, I bring her fingers to my mouth, sucking them clean and finally tasting the nectar I'd been missing all these months.

  And fuck if it doesn't make me hard again!

  "I need to get on birth control," Sisi sighs, snuggling closer to me a while later, after we've both taken a shower.

  "We're not in any hurry. I told you, we're going at your pace," I tell her, smoothing her hair with my hand, enjoying its silky texture.

  "Just to be prepared. I don't want to get pregnant and go through that again."

  "Was it that bad?" I ask. I'd read up online about miscarriages and I'd tried to understand as much as I could. Still, that was only the theoretical side, not the more personal one.

  She nods, her small hand tightening in a fist.

  "I'd already imagined him," she says, "he would have looked like you, with dark hair and black eyes," her voice trembles, and I know this is hard for her.

  I may not have that much experience with this feelings business, but anything that hurts Sisi hurts me too. So I just wrap my arms around her, holding her close and wishing I'd be able to take away some of her pain.

  "Tell me about it," I prompt her, thinking that might help her get it off her chest.

  And she does. She tells me all about the boy she'd imagined, and how she'd already loved him. Her tears fall softly down my chest as she finally releases everything she's held inside for so long.

  Emotionally spent, it's not long before she falls asleep.

  Still holding on to her, I close my eyes too, unaware that like everything else, happiness is ephemeral too.

  The nightmare has just begun.

  My eyes snap open, my heart beating loudly in my chest. There are a few rays of sun filtering the bars of the only window of the room.

  My sister is huddled by my side, her entire body shaking, her lips purple.

  "V, wake up," I push at her shoulders, but only a few small noises escape her lips as she tries to open her eyes, her body coiled tightly to preserve heat.

  I quickly shimmy out of my thin shirt, laying it on top of her. But as I try to cover her with it, my hand brushes across her forehead and I notice she's burning up.

  "V..." I mutter, worried.

  We've been here for a long time. I'm not even sure how much time has passed anymore. The only thing I know is that days turn into night and then into days again. Sometimes we are taken out of the room for a medical consultation, but other than that we're just left alone.

  The only people we've interacted with have been the doctors, who aren't very talkative. They only record their measurements, and then we're taken back to our cages.

  Because I can't call this room anything but a cage. Not when the bars mean that we're treated worse than animals.

  And because of that we're now both one step away from going crazy, the isolation almost unbearable.

  "V," I continue to get her to rouse.

  "What..." she mumbles, her eyes sluggish as she tries to pry them open. "Here," I say, getting some water and forcing her to drink.

  "You need to hold on, V," I tell her, stroking her hair.

  She's been getting weaker and weaker for a while now, and the tests we have to undergo don't help much. Not when every single blood draw weakens even her more.

  "I..." she shakes her head, some droplets of water falling down her chin. "I don't know how much longer..." she whispers.

  "You need to, V. For me," I take her hand, hooking our pinkies together, "we're in this together. Always," I tell her, desperate to make her not give out hope.

  "Always," she whispers, her lips tugging upwards slowly.

  Truth is, I don't know how long I can keep this up either. I've been trying to be strong for her sake, but even I am losing hope.

  Vanya eventually beats her fever, and color starts to climb up her cheeks. Her mood, though, doesn't improve.

  One day, we're picked up by guards and taken to a new room, where two doctors we haven't seen before are waiting for us.

  The tests are routine, and we're already used to the blood draws or the weird machines that they put on us. But this time, they also give us some questionnaires and some drawings to interpret.

  I'm not exactly sure what this is, but apparently we both pass all the tests, as the doctors inform us that we'd be moved to another facility.

  We're both confused at the whirlwind move, everything happening too fast.

  Loaded in a black van, we're taken to the next location, but our living conditions don't improve. If anything, they are even worse than before.

  The cell is dirty and the food is barely edible. The only difference is that we now have round the clock guards and even more tests.

  The first week we're there though, we also get a present.

  The first present we've ever been given here.

  One of the guards comes and brings in a baby rabbit, telling us that we need to make sure we raise it appropriately.

  I'm immediately skeptical, and my suspicion doesn't abate. But the rabbit's arrival makes Vanya break out of her shell and she starts to become more active. She now smiles more, and her mood is considerably improved.

  Seeing the changes in her makes me thaw towards the rabbit, too.

  "I named it Lulu." Vanya beams at me, holding the already two months old rabbit in her arms. It's definitely growing every day, and I can't believe that they saddled us with another mouth to feed when we barely get enough food as it is.

  "That's nice, V." I try to return the smile.

  "He likes it when I rub his belly. Look," she giggles, turning Lulu on his back and petting him on the stomach.

  I don't know if Lulu is very keen on that, but it makes Vanya happy and that's enough. Though I am a little put off that Lulu's fur is clean and shiny while Vanya's clothes haven't been changed in months.

  She's smiling happily in her tattered and dirty dress, a stark contrast to Lulu's pristine coat.

  "I can't believe they let us keep it," she whispers, holding Lulu to her chest and cooing softly.

  "I don't think we should get too attached, V. I don't have a good feeling about this." I tell her for the thousand time.

  "It's been so long, brother..." she shakes her head. "If they had meant to do something, they would have done it already. It's been months and they've let us keep Lulu," she says, and while I have to agree with her reasoning, I still can't quite feel comfortable.

  The door to the cell rattles, and two guards step inside the room.

  "Your turn, brats," they yell, coming inside and grabbing us roughly. Vanya accidentally drops Lulu, her eyes immediately filling up with tears as he yelps in pain.

  But we don't have any time to react as we're shoved outside the cell and taken down a dark corridor.

  "Vlad," she whispers in a low voice, "I'm scared," she looks at me, her eyes wide with fear.

  I am too, but I can't show it. Not when she needs my support.

  "It's going to be ok. Just like the other consults," I try to be optimistic, but something about this feels awfully ominous.

  Even the building looks worse than the one we'd been in before, so I don't have high hopes.

  We make a right down a narrow staircase before we're ushered inside a huge room full with medical equipment.

  Vanya and I are separated by the guards as we're pushed towards a pair of high beds. We barely have time to react as we're raised on t
he beds, our hands and feet strapped to the metal hinges.

  The guards gone, it's not long before a man comes inside. He's wearing a white robe, like the other doctors. His height is like my father's, but he doesn't have the muscles to accompany it. Light brown hair and dark blue eyes, he doesn't look as menacing as the other doctors. He even has a small smile on his face as he comes towards us, picking up a pair of gloves on the way.

  "What do we have here?" he exclaims, his gaze moving quickly over me before switching over to Vanya, his eyes lighting up with interest.

  I swallow, unsure if I like that.

  "And who is this little princess?" He heads to Vanya's side, picking up a strand of her hair and bringing it to his nose, inhaling.

  "What's your name, darling?" he asks, a weird smile on his face.

  "Vanya," my sister blinks, just as confused as me.

  "Vanya, such a pretty name. For a pretty lady," he comments, going around his table full of utensils, his hands moving dramatically in the air as if he's contemplating which one to choose.

  Eventually, he settles on a small set of needles, turning back to us, his smile even wider.

  "I'm Miles," he says proudly, "and you're very lucky to be chosen. My criteria is very strict, and I have to say. We haven't had a full set of twins pass the tests in quite a while," he moves around, coming to sit next to Vanya's bed.

  "And you, darling, are the first girl in a very long time," he sighs. "But such a pretty thing you are," he continues, his gloved hand trailing down her cheek.

  I guess you could say Vanya's pretty. She's definitely the more good looking one of the two of us. With her frail frame, black hair and black eyes against pale skin, she looks like a porcelain doll. But I don't like the way he's saying it to her. It feels... predatory.

  "Why, I'll have the best fun breaking you," he says excitedly, and I frown, not really understanding his meaning.

  He heads to my side first, regarding me for a moment through narrowed eyes before choosing a fairly big needle.

  "Now, let's see how this feels," he says, inserting the needle into my arm without any preliminaries.

  I jerk away in pain, my eyes wide as I take in his smile.

  "On a scale of one to ten, how much does it hurt?" He asks, his hand applying pressure on the needle and moving it around.

  "Five," I answer, taking a deep breath and forcing my eyes not to tear up in pain.

  Somehow I think he wouldn't appreciate that display.

  "Wonderful," he replies, taking out the needle, blood gushing out of my skin before choosing another one and jabbing it again into the same spot. The tip is bigger, so it immediately enlarges the wound.

  I stifle a moan of pain.

  "Now?"

  "Seven," I say, cursing myself right away for not going to a higher number. Because if this is seven...

  His smile never falters as he takes an even bigger needle, repeating the procedure until I yell a painful ten.

  When he's done with me, my arm is a bloody mess. I can't even see the original wound as multiple holes are centered around the same area, blood gushing out in spurts.

  Unlike previous consults, he doesn't even bother to give me a gauze for my arm, or even clean some of the blood.

  No, his attention is switched to Vanya, and his smile widens as he regards her pale face. My stomach is in knots as I know he'll do the same to her, but I can only helplessly watch as Vanya turns her eyes to me, her cries muted as he makes a mess of her flesh.

  "My God," Miles breathes out, amazed at Vanya's perseverance. "You're a wonder, aren't you?" he exclaims in disbelief after he disposes of the tenth needle. He seems to be impressed that Vanya hadn't cried out even once.

  What he doesn't know, though, is that my sister's already developed her own mechanism of dealing with outside stimuli. She finds her refuge in me. The moment our eyes met I knew she'd shut down, only waiting for Miles to be done.

  Even as blood pours out of her wounds, there's barely any reaction.

  "I think I have a winner," Miles adds, an expression of pure happiness on his face.

  I don't get to dwell on it, as we're quickly taken away and put back in our cells. Vanya is back to herself the minute she sees Lulu, taking him in her arms and staining his white coat with her blood.

  "V," I try to pry her hand away, using the end of my shirt to scrub some of the blood away.

  "I'm fine," she shrugs, giving me a smile.

  But it's not too long after that another guard comes to our cell. This time specifically for Vanya.

  "But we're always together," I add as they try to pry her from my side. "You can't take her."

  "Orders are orders kid. He only wants her," he points towards Vanya. And when I try to physically put myself between him and my sister, he easily swats me aside, the back of his hand connecting to my cheek and sending me flying.

  "It's ok, Vlad. I'll be fine." Vanya adds with a sympathetic smile, and I can only watch as she's taken away from me.

  I spend the next day and night without closing my eyes for a second.

  Where is she?

  My body simply can't relax as I'm picturing thousands of scenarios, all of them ending with my sister dead.

  But the dreaded wait comes to an end when the cell door opens, and Vanya struts inside wearing a pink dress, her long hair braided in two pigtails.

  "V?" I take a step towards her, surprised at her change in appearance. Even her wound had been taken care of.

  Yet for all the clean clothes, there's a haunted look to her.

  "V," I rush to her side, my hands on her shoulders. "What happened? Are you ok?" I ask, patting her down. Her reaction is immediate as she pushes me away, recoiling at my touch.

  She moves to a corner of the cell, lying down and drawing her knees to her chest.

  "V," I ask tentatively, for the first time truly worried.

  Whatever had happened to us, she'd never given me the silent treatment.

  Never.

  The exclusive visits continue and slowly, even Lulu fails to rouse Vanya's interest. She barely speaks to me, and when I try to comfort her she rejects away all my touch.

  "V, please talk to me," I beg her one day when she comes back wearing yet another new dress, but with tears falling down her cheeks. "What happened?"

  "He said I was his special girl," she whimpers, her hands on her face as sobs slowly rack her body.

  "V..." I trail off, not knowing how to help her.

  "It hurts... but I have to pretend it doesn't," she whispers.

  "What does? What hurts?" I immediately imagine Miles hurting her even more, trying to take her pain threshold to a different extreme every time. In my mind, I can't help but see her bloody and bruised, but there's barely a mark on her flesh.

  "He likes it when I'm on my hands and knees," she starts, her voice small, "naked..." she drifts off and I frown.

  Naked?

  "There's something poking inside my body, and it hurts. Every time..." she takes a deep breath. "And you're not there to help me through it," she says the last words on a sob, tears flooding down her cheeks.

  I move closer to her, slowly wrapping my arms around her body, and for the first time she allows my touch.

  I don't understand what's happening to her at first. It takes me some time before I fully realize what's poking her body every time, and what Miles is doing to my sister.

  And I only do when it happens to me too, during one of Vanya's absences when a guard sneaks inside our cell.

  Pinned down, and stripped of everything, I can only hope it doesn't last. Almost triple my size, I don't stand a chance as he pushes his elbow into my nape, holding me in place as he fondles my ass.

  No matter how much I try to move, or yell in protest, it's in vain as he shoves himself inside of me, my body screaming in pain as he tears me apart. As much as my body wants to reject him, the strength of his assault is no match for a child's body. I feel his nasty hardness buried inside me, the pain unbe
arable as he digs himself deeper before retreating.

  At some point I just stop fighting, holding myself still as he thrusts in and out of me, the smell of his sweaty body on top of my own threatening to make me sick.

  But even as I hear his grunts on top of me, all I can think is my sister. My baby sister who had to endure this violation time after time, withdrawing deeper into herself and rejecting even her brother's touch—blood of her blood.

  It's only then that I truly understand what Vanya has to go through every time Miles calls on her, and I don't think I can bear it. I don't think I can live knowing that someone hurts my baby sister like this.

  I need to do something about it.

  It's the turning point as I realize I must save my sister somehow. Because she's all that matters. I can take anything.

  Rape. Pain. Torture.

  I'll bear everything as long as I can spare her.

  Armed with staunch conviction, the method to get the attention off her comes to me during our consults.

  Each time he cuts into my skin, asking my pain level, I close my eyes, willing my body to obey me, and I say the lowest number I can. I continue to grit my teeth even as his experiments grow in size, when he's no longer satisfied with needles and now requires knives to cut into our flesh.

  I bear it even when I see him peel the skin back of my arm, unveiling my veins and muscles.

  In fact, this particular experiment finally gains me his attention.

  "Maybe I was wrong," he notes, studying my reactions as he pokes and prods at my exposed arm.

  After so much time around blood and knives, I'm already desensitized to even seeing my own naked flesh.

  "We'll see," he comments, moving back to Vanya.

  This is her time to put on a show. I'd asked her—begged her—to cry and wail the moment he'd cut into her flesh. To not hold it in and not take refuge in me. To simply let it out.

  One questioning gaze in my direction and I nod. The moment the knife touches her arm, she starts screaming in pain. Miles' eyes widen in horror as if he can't believe what's happening.

  He keeps on cutting but Vanya keeps on screaming.