by C. Hallman
Monroe
No, no, no! I can’t believe this is happening again. Is this going to be my life now? Murder, blood, and mystery. How did I end up here? How did my life turn into this mess, and how do I get back to my normal, quiet life?
I stand there frozen in time, watching in complete and utter horror as Alaric takes a knife out of his boot and starts cutting off the guy’s hand. The smell of blood permeates the air, making my stomach churn. But it’s the sound of the bone cracking under the knife that has bile rising in my throat.
“Do not puke in here!” Alaric warns, “You don’t want to leave evidence behind at a crime scene.”
Slapping a hand over my mouth, I force myself not to throw up while wondering if I can make it. I don’t think I can. What if I throw up? What if the police think I was involved in this murder? Oh my god. My mind reels, and thinking about all those possibilities just makes me more sick.
“Monroe! Look at me,” Alaric orders. “You need to calm down. Everything is going to be fine, sugar. Just don’t throw up, okay?”
“I’m trying,” I say, still holding my hand in front of my mouth, making the words come out as a mumble.
I stare at Alaric as he finishes cutting off the dead guy’s hand. I want to look away, but my eyes are glued to the gruesome scene that looks unreal. It’s almost like I’m watching a movie, unable to control anything that’s happening. It’s like I’m an outsider looking in, but far away and safe.
Alaric wraps the severed hand up in a jacket hanging over a chair before tucking it under his arm like he is holding a rolled-up newspaper.
“Grab the bottle of vodka and pour it over my hands,” Alaric tells me, pointing at a full bottle of Patrón at the table. I do as he asks and unscrew the bottle with shaking fingers. He holds out his hands to me, and I start to pour the clear liquid out until his hands are clean of blood.
“I have to bring this to my boss, and I don’t have time to take you home, so you’re going to have to come with me.” I can tell by the way he’s saying it that he is not happy about it.
Well, neither am I.
“How are we going to get out of here?”
“Walk.” He shrugs. “Just act like nothing has happened. Maybe you should take a few sips of this before we head out.” He nods toward the bottle of vodka remaining in my hand. Before I can think about it too long, I bring it to my mouth and take a healthy sip.
The alcohol goes down smoothly, only burning slightly at the back of my throat, and I embrace the warmth gathering in my stomach.
“Okay, I’m good… I think,” I hiccup.
“All right, sugar.” He wraps his arm around my back, tucking me to his side, and I try not to think about how he has a severed hand tucked under his other arm or that he is touching me with the same hands he used moments ago to kill someone.
Alaric opens the door we came from earlier. The music from the main floor gets louder, voices filtering through the hallways as he leads me through it and out the back. I say a silent prayer, hoping we don’t run into anyone. I’m not good enough of an actress for this. I’m sure my horror is still all over my face.
I glance up at Alaric, but his face gives nothing away. It’s like this doesn't affect him at all. He is neither scared nor shocked. Either that or he is simply good at hiding it.
He pushes open the back door, leading into the alley where we parked the car. Alaric walks me to the passenger side and helps me into the seat before shutting the door and walking around to get into the car himself.
The thought of making a run for it at that moment crosses my mind, but I shut that idea down quickly. I know he’d catch me in no time, and making him mad at me is probably not a good idea.
“You’ll get used to it.” Alaric breaks the silence after a while on the road.
“What if I don’t want to get used to it?”
“We don’t always get what we want. Sometimes we just have to go with it. I know you don’t want this, but you are here now, and there is no going back. You’ve seen way too much, and I can’t let you go… ever.”
“Are you going to kill me?”
“Not unless you try to run. As long as you do as I say, I won’t hurt you.”
I nod and sink into the seat. I might be naïve to believe him, but somehow I do. For all the bad things I’ve seen him do, he’s never hurt me physically, at least not on purpose.
“I have to drop this off at my boss's house, and I’m guessing you still don’t want to be locked in the trunk?”
“No… can’t I just sit in the car and wait for you?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I can’t trust you not to make a run for it. Plus, in front of his house might be just as dangerous as inside.”
God, I don’t want to know what he means by that, and I don’t ask. I look out the window and watch the large oak trees we’re passing. I didn't even notice we had already left the city. The moon is large and bright, and the only thing shining light on the otherwise dark landscape.
After a few more minutes, Alaric turns into an unmarked dirt road, and my heart sinks. Did he lie? Is he driving me out here into the middle of nowhere to…
“Jesus, I can hear you think.” Alaric chuckles. “My boss lives far out. He likes this secluded place. I already told you, as long as you listen, I won’t have to hurt you.”
A part of me still believes him, but doubt clings to me. I watched him murder a guy and cut off his hand less than an hour ago. But if he wanted me dead, he could have killed me there, right?
“Look, the house is coming up.” Alaric points in front of him, and my eyes fall onto the large house in the distance.
The closer we get, the more I realize it’s not a house at all. It’s more like a mansion that could easily house eight large families. The driveway ends in a circle, the road wrapping around a fountain. I try to take everything in, but my brain is like a sponge full of water and can’t hold anything else at the moment.
“Listen to me, Monroe.” Alaric gets my attention, and I turn my head to look at him. “In there, you need to do exactly as I say. Exactly. Do you understand?”
My eyes go wide as I simply stare at him in shock. I want to tell him yes, but all I can do is look at him, wishing I was anywhere but here right now.
“Just like in the club, you keep your head down and stay close to me. Do not talk to anyone, don’t look at anyone. Don’t breathe toward anyone. You got it?”
Finally, I snap out of my fear-induced shock and nod my head furiously. “I’ll stay glued to your side,” I promise.
“Good.” Alaric nods.
We both get out of the car and start walking toward the front door. I almost trip over my own two feet, but Alaric pulls me back up and tucks me to his side before I hit the ground.
Our feet touch the first step leading up to the entrance when the large double doors swing open, and two armed men pile out, guns raised. My knees lock, but Alaric pulls me farther up the stairs.
The two goons lower their guns, and I lower my eyes in return, remembering what I promised Alaric in the car.
“Sorry, you got here faster than we thought,” one of the guys explains.
“Next time you point your gun at me, you better fire it, or it will be the last time you pull your gun at anyone,” Alaric growls, letting his threat hang in the air as he marches us farther into the house.
I keep my eyes low, examining the marble flooring we’re walking on, and only glancing to the side every once in a while when we pass a door. I don’t see or hear anyone else until we get to the back of the house, and music carries into the hallway.
Alaric stops at the door the music seems to come from and reaches for the handle. As soon as he pushes it open, the music becomes loud, and multiple men’s voices meet my ear.
“Alaric!” one of the men calls, and two more men chime in. “Good to see you, old friend. I’m guessing the job is done?”
“Alessandro, do I ever return without getting the job done?”
The group of men erupts into laughter. “Of course not, but just to ease my mind, you did bring what I asked you for, right?”
Alaric takes a few steps forward, and I follow him closely. I still haven't looked up at the men, but I can see the edge of a coffee table and a leather couch, both sitting on top of an expensive-looking carpet.
A thud sound has my eyes flicker to the table just in time to see the severed hand landing in the center. I gulp.
“Perfect. Now that business is out of the way, tell me about this fine little piece you brought to the party.”
“This is Monroe, and I’m afraid we won’t be able to stay and party with you this time. Maybe next.”
A ripple of drunken complaints come from the men. I keep count in my head, and I'm pretty sure there are five or six guys total.
Alaric spins around, grabbing me by my arm a little rougher than necessary.
“Nonsense, Alaric. Stay, I insist,” one of the men orders in a tone that doesn't leave room for an argument.
Alaric tightens his grip on my arm painfully, making me wince as he drags me to a couch. He sits down, then pulls me onto his lap. I keep my back straight, and my head down still, which only lets me see a little of the men sitting close to us.
“There you go. Here, have a drink,” a different voice says. A moment later, a glass filled with ice and amber liquid appears in my view. Alaric grabs it while keeping his other hand planted on my hip.
“Saluti,” all men say in unison, and I watch Alaric finish his drink in one gulp before slamming the glass on the table in front of us.
“So, Alaric,” the man closest to us says. “Tell me, old friend. How much for her?”
All air whooshes from my lungs, and my whole body stiffens.
“She is not for sale, I’m afraid,” Alaric answers calmly.
“Everything is for sale.” The man laughs.
“Not her.”
“You refuse to give me what I want, Alaric?” All the humor is gone from his voice now, and a deadly threat appears in its place. All the other men go silent as well, leaving the room to be eerily quiet. What happened to the music?
I try to breathe in, but my lungs won’t work. My chest burns from the lack of air, and I know if I don’t get this panic under control, I’m going to pass out soon. I close my eyes and concentrate on calming down when Alaric says something that makes me wonder if I’ve already passed out.
“You can’t have her because she is my fiancée.”
15
Alaric
I don’t know who is most shocked by the words that just came out of my mouth—me, him, or Monroe? She is sitting on my lap like she is frozen in time, completely still, every muscle tight.
Calling her my fiancée was the only thing I could think of, a split-second decision that will alter my entire life. I’ve never even thought about getting married before, but right now, this might be the only thing that will save her from Alessandro.
I owe this man my life. He is the only family I’ve ever known, but I know what he does to women. I know he likes to cause pain, and sometimes, he takes it too far and kills them. The thought of Monroe in his clutches makes my chest ache. Marrying Monroe might be drastic, but it’s the only thing that will give her a chance to get out of here.
“So you want Monroe to join this family?” Alessandro asks, eyebrow raised. When I nod, he continues. “You know what that means, right? She needs to prove her loyalty to us.”
Fuck. I didn’t think that far ahead.
“She has to go through initiation just like anyone else. She will have to kill someone for the family.”
Monroe’s head snaps up at his words, all blood drained from her face as she looks at me with impossibly wide eyes.
“I guess I should introduce myself first if you are going to be part of this family. I’m Alessandro Lombardi. This is my younger brother, Savio, and some of our close friends,” he introduces everyone one by one before turning back to Monroe. “So, who are we going to have you kill for us?”
Monroe's mouth falls open like she is about to say something, but no words come out.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Alessandro,” Savio interjects. “She doesn't have it in her to kill someone, and you know it. There are other ways she can prove herself. We can plant her for information or use her as bait. Those would be much smarter choices since she has no affiliation with us until now. No one would suspect her.”
“Maybe smarter, but certainly less fun.” Alessandro leans back in his seat, running his hand over his chin in thought. “However, I can think of something she could do for us, something that would prove her loyalty to this family, and the best part, it can be done today.”
The mischievous glint in his eyes tells me I don’t want to know what he has in mind. Nevertheless, I ask, “And what would that be?”
“Fuck her in front of us and give us a show.” He smiles. “If you won’t let us fuck her, that’s the least you can do.” The other guys in the room nod their head in agreement, their eyes already undressing Monroe like the hungry hyenas they are.
“Those are your choices. Either she kills someone, we get to fuck her, or you fuck her in front of us.”
Monroe is shaking on my hold as I take a moment to weigh my options. There is really only one choice that would keep her permanently unharmed. “Fine, I’ll fuck her, but no one else touches her. She is mine.”
Alessandro holds up his hands and chuckles, “I get it, she is your new toy, and you don’t like to share… yet.”
Ever. I won’t share her ever.
“Pour me another one,” I hold out my glass, and Savio pour another inch and a half of bourbon into my glass tumbler. Instead of drinking it myself, I bring the rim to Monroe’s trembling lip. “Drink.”
She takes a small sip, wrinkling her nose at the taste, but then downs the entire contents with her second gulp.
“Stand up,” I order softly, pushing gently on her back.
She stands up like a newborn fawn. Her steps, I’m sure, are shaky. I keep my hand planted on her lower back and lead her to the couch on the other side of the room.
She flinches when I reach for the hem of her shirt, and I have to grind my teeth together to stop myself from reassuring her that everything’s gonna be okay. She lifts her arms, and I pull the shirt over her head, exposing most of her smooth, unblemished skin.
I reach for her bra next, unclasping the back. I let it fall off her shoulders and onto the floor. She immediately lifts her arms to cover herself up, but I shake my head and pull them down. Obediently, she lets her arms fall next to her and lets the men gawk at her like she’s nothing more than a piece of meat.
“That’s a nice pair of tits… fuck, I wouldn’t mind sucking on them…” Bruno, one of Alessandro's goons, groans. The others chime in, and I have to force myself to keep going.
Ignoring the men’s catcalling and crude comments, I reach for the button on her jeans and start undoing them. Even with all the men watching, I can’t help getting hard myself when I pull down her jeans to expose her barely covered pussy. Her white cotton underwear is so thin I can see the outline of it, and knowing how tight she is has all the blood rushing to my cock.
But before I sink deep into her cunt, I need to make sure she’s good and ready.
Dipping my fingers into the waistband of her panties, I pull them down her smooth legs, exposing her clean-shaven pussy, which immediately gets ten comments from the other men.
I want to growl mine like a rabid dog so they will all know to stay away from her. Instead, I grab her hips and bury my face in her pussy. Running my tongue through her slit, I make her whole body shudder with the intrusion. Her hands come to my shoulders, and her nails dig into my skin through the shirt I’m wearing.
Her feminine musky taste hits my tongue, driving me even more insane, but having my back to Alessandro is not sitting well with me. Giving her one final lick, I pull my face away and gently push her back to sit on the couch.<
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“Spread your legs for me, sugar,” I tell her, imagining we are the only two people in this room. Her eyes stay glued on mine as she obeys and spreads her legs so everyone in the room can see her pink little pussy and spread out asshole.
“Suck,” I order, bringing my middle finger to her mouth. She wraps her plump lips around my finger and around her tongue over it as she sucks on it like she’s been told.
When my finger is good and wet, I pull it out and bring it between her thighs. She gulps, clearly nervous but doesn’t say a word when I slowly push the single digit into her welcoming heat.
Monroe stays completely still as I finger fuck her gently at first. But when I add my thumb to her clit, she starts wiggling around and grabbing onto the pillows beside her. I pick up speed and increase the pressure on the small bundle of nerves, but it isn’t until I add a second finger that her thighs start quivering, and I know she’s about to come.
I can tell she’s holding back, trying not to come, which only makes me want to make her come more. I hate that everyone is watching, but even now, I want her to come apart by my touch. I want to control her body, control her pleasure.
It only takes another minute before her head falls back and her whole body tightens. Her pussy squeezes my finger, and a muffled moan falls from her lips. I drown out the hollering from the other men in the room and concentrate on her and only her because right now, that’s the only way I’m going to be able to go through with this.
16
Monroe
This has to be a nightmare. A bad dream I'm going to wake up from any minute now. None of this is real. Alaric did not tell me he was going to marry me, and he definitely didn’t just make me come while his friends were watching.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I say a silent prayer to the universe, asking to wake the hell up from this, but when I blink my eyes open, I’m still here. Still in a room full of men who have their dicks out.
They are all watching me, their lustful eyes glued to my naked body as they stroke themselves. Two of them even have their phones out filming me. Fucking Christ. I’ve never felt so ashamed in my life. My legs are still spread, giving them a perfect view of the most private part of me.
