Contents

Fragile Wings

1. Lucca

2. Claire

3. Lucca

4. Claire

5. Lucca

6. Claire

7. Lucca

8. Claire

About the Authors

Also by the Authors

Savage Beginnings Sneak Peek

Fragile Wings

I thought the world of him. Then he showed the dark monster lurking beneath.

He says he’ll protect me from anything. He doesn’t know the only thing I need protection from is him.

1

Lucca

I look at the four bare walls of my two-bedroom house and smile. It’s fucking stupid to smile over something as simple as barren walls, but I can’t help it. When you grow up with nothing of your own, nothing that has ever truly been yours, a pair of shoes, or even a bed, you smile at the stupid things, like getting your own place.

The neighborhood is shitty, and since moving in two days ago, I’ve heard police sirens and fighting out in the halls, all hours of the day.

It’s not the best fucking place in town, but it’s good enough for me. At eighteen, there isn’t much I care about. Pussy and money are the most important things in my life.

I walk into what would be the living room if I had a couch or something to sit on. When I moved in, I got the bare minimum, a bed, some pots and pans, even though I don’t cook, and a few other odds and ends. Working for the Moretti crime family doesn’t leave much downtime, but when I’m not working, this will be my go-to place.

The best thing about this place, if you could find a silver lining in a piece of shit hell hole like this, is the back porch. The houses are close together, but I’ve been out in the backyard twice now and have yet to see another person.

Walking through the living room, I stop when I reach the back door. My fingers graze the cold copper doorknob as I look through the dirty glass. I’m not sure why, but I’m shocked to find a little girl sitting outside in the grass, her eyes glued on my door.

The door creaks loudly as I open it, and the cool autumn breeze slaps me in the face. The little girl doesn’t even move, or blink. She just remains sitting, staring at me with big green eyes as if she is in awe.

As I step out onto the porch, I get a better look at her and find she can’t be much older than ten. Her hair is red, bright red, the kind that would get you made fun of in school. I’m tempted to walk across the grass to get a better look at her features but realize a moment later that would probably scare her.

Still, my feet move without thought, and I stop just a few feet from her. She cranes her neck back to continue staring at me, and I notice the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheekbones. I can tell she is poor, just as most people in this neighborhood are, the purple sweater she is wearing is ripped at the cuff, and the colors on the printed butterfly on her chest are faded.

She keeps staring at me, like she can’t believe I’m standing here.

“My name’s Lucca, and your what’s name?” I pause for a fraction of a second, “Butterfly?” I point to her shirt and smile.

She looks down at the butterfly on her shirt, and then back up at me. Her gaze never wavers. In fact, the intensity of her stare grows, becoming two weights that press down on my shoulders.

Even though she is a little girl, I can only imagine all that she’s been through in such a small amount of time. If she’s living here, she’s seen things, probably experienced things. There are far worse hardships in life than being poor.

“Do you speak, butterfly?” I ask, even though I should turn around and walk my ass back inside.

Her green eyes glisten like small emeralds in the afternoon sun. All she does is nod her head, no words passing her lips—annoyance tugs at the back of my mind.

Why hasn’t she spoken?

Maybe because you’re a stranger, idiot?

“I just moved in next door. I saw you through the window staring at me.” I sigh and scratch at the back of my head with one of my hands. “You know, this is a bad neighborhood. You shouldn’t be sitting outside by yourself.”

It’s a statement, not a question.

She shrugs, unfazed by my words. Obviously, she knows the type of people that lurk around these places. So why sit here? Does she not care? Or does she think no one will hurt her because she is a girl? Either way, I don’t feel comfortable leaving her out here alone.

“Where are your parents?” Maybe if I give them a scolding and scare them a little bit, they won’t just let their daughter sit outside by herself.

At the mere mention of her parents, fear flashes across her face, lighting up her features like a lightning bolt zinging across the stormy night sky. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. As soon as the look appears, it’s gone, and I wonder, for a millisecond, if I imagined seeing it.

My lips part and the next question I plan to ask her is hanging on the tip of my tongue. It’s then that the loud creak of a door meets my ears, and I look up and over the girl’s head to find a large man about as tall as me, stepping out onto the porch. That must be her father.

His gaze is murderous as it lands on me, and I can tell in an instant that there is something else about him, but I can’t put my finger on it.

Butterfly turns and peers over her shoulder at him.

“Get your little ass back in the house right now!” The man glowers at her, and like an obedient doll, butterfly pushes off the ground and strides through the grass.

I clench my hands into tight fists, unsure why I feel a protective pull toward this girl. My eyes remain on her the entire time, and I catch the way her body stiffens just the slightest as she slips past the man and into the house.

Something is off about him and about her, and I don’t like it. Not one bit. His gaze narrows, and he stares at me, for another second, before walking into the house. The door closes with a creak, and then he is gone, right along with butterfly. I shake off the bad feeling and head back into my house, leaving the nameless girl in the back of my mind.

2

Claire

I know it’s rude to watch people. To stare at them. I don’t like it when people stare at me, but I can’t help myself. Ever since he moved in a few weeks ago, I’m fascinated by the man that calls himself Lucca. I wonder if he would like to be my friend. I know he is older, but a friend can be anyone, and I want Lucca to be mine.

A frown forms on my face at the reminder of my lack of friends. I have no one to talk to, no one that likes me. My father only lets me leave the house for school, and the kids at school all think I’m weird because my clothes are old and stained. I wouldn’t dare embarrass myself further by explaining to them that my mother left and that my father, even though he works, likes to drink most of our money away.

“I don’t want you outside. Stay in the house, Claire. If I come home and find out you’ve been outside, I’ll lock you up.” The vein on the side of his head bulges, and his fists tighten. My entire body tenses, and my heart thunders in my chest.

Is he going to hit me again?

The thought makes me sick to my stomach. I keep it a secret, mainly because no one would care anyway, and also because I’m more afraid of losing my father than I am of his fists.

“I’ll stay inside. I promise.” I let the lie roll off my tongue. He has no way of knowing if I go out, I just have to be careful.

The disapproving look he gives me tells me he doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t say anything else. He simply heads for the door and walks out, slamming it closed behind him.

I’m bouncing on the heels of my feet with excitement when I rush toward the back porch and press my face against the cold window to look outside. As soon as I spot Lucca sitting on his porch, I unlock the door and pull it open. Happiness bubbles up in my belly, and it feels like Christmas morning back when Momma and Daddy were both home, and Daddy wasn’t drinking or raising his fists to momma or me.

Taking a deep breath, I stare at the man. I should be scared of him. I don’t know him. He is a stranger to me, and yet he doesn’t seem like a stranger.

The moment he hears the creak of the door, his gaze lifts, and our eyes collide. I’m suspended in time for a second, and my chest hurts, my heart galloping like a racehorse inside of it. I told myself that if I got the chance to talk to him this time, I would be better prepared, but it seems once again, I’m not.

He has the ability to leave me speechless, and I don’t understand why. He makes me nervous, but not in a scary way.

“Hey, butterfly.” He gives me a small wave.

“Hi.”

“She speaks!” His lips curl into a smile, and the tension eases from my stomach.

“Claire… My name is Claire,” I introduce myself.

“Nice to meet you, Claire.” He holds out his hand like he wants me to shake it.

I look at it for a moment before deciding to close the distance between us and put my hand in his. That’s when our size difference really hits me. My hand looks so small and dainty as I place it in his ginormous one. For a second, I think he is going to crush my bones, but when his grip closes around mine, it’s gentle and soft.

As soon as I let go, I take a step back, feeling like I need to put some space between us. I take a seat on the edge of his patio and watch him take a sip of his beer.

“Where did you live before you moved here?” I ask curiously.

“A lot of different places. I moved from one foster family to the next until I aged out. Now I work and got my own place,” he explains.

“What do you do for work?”

“Something different every day. Odd jobs, I guess.” His answer is vague.

“What happened to your parents? Why were you in foster care?”

He chuckles. “First, you don’t talk at all, and now you come at me with all these questions.”

“Sorry.” My cheeks heat. “You don’t have to answer.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I never met my dad, and my mom died when I was little. Car accident.”

“I’m sorry your mom died. Mine left when I was eight.” On my eighth birthday, to be exact, but I don’t mention that part. “It’s my fault she left.”

“I don’t believe that, for a second. Why would you think it was your fault?”

Because my dad tells me it is all the time.

I shrug. “I just know.”

He looks off into the distance and takes another drink of his beer. Usually, when my father drinks, I’m tense and stay hidden in my room until the morning. I’m not scared of this man, even though I know I should be.

“Well, you’re wrong. You’re just a kid; if your mom’s gone, it’s because she chose to leave. Not because you did anything.”

All I can do is shake my head and look away. “Maybe, but that’s not what my dad says.”

“Your dad’s stupid,” he growls, and I jump, startled by the sound that comes from his mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He adds.

“It’s okay.” My voice comes out squeaky.

Turning the conversation around, he asks, “What do you do for fun?” I cock my head to the side and stare at him. If there was anyone I could’ve pictured as prince charming, it would be him. I feel safe with him, protected.

“Usually, I just read or sit outside. That’s when I’m not at school. I’m usually pretty bored, though, especially when my dad is at work.”

“Does he work a lot?” Lucca asks.

I nod. “Yeah, but when he isn’t at work, he’s sleeping or drinking so…” I realize I’ve said too much and press my lips together to stop myself from saying anything more.

Lucca’s features darken, and he leans in, his eyes zeroing in on my face, making me feel like I’m being inspected. “If you need anything, butterfly, you can come to me. I will help you. Day or night.”

I swallow around the knot in my throat. That’s what the counselor at the school told me when she saw the bruises, and I told her I fell. She said I could trust her, that she would make sure I was taken care of. I didn’t believe her. I’m used to hiding my pain, used to hiding things, putting on a mask, and pushing through the day.

“I should probably get back.” I look over my shoulder and back to the door, worrying that my father might come walking out the door at any second to yell at me.

“Before you go…” Lucca stands, placing his bottle of beer down, “I have something for you.” He walks over to the door and disappears inside his house.

I stand, staring at the door, wondering what he could possibly have for me. A second later, I’m given an answer when the door creaks, and he comes back out with what looks like a notebook. I’m further puzzled until he hands the notebook to me, and I see a blue and black glitter butterfly on the cover.

It’s beautiful. “Thank you,” I choke out, shocked that he would get me something. No one has ever gotten me anything, not even my father.

Lucca’s eyes dart away, and he picks his beer back up. “It’s nothing. I just saw it, and I figured you would like it. I guessed right.”

“Yes, you did.” I smile and hold the notebook to my chest.

Hope blooms inside right over the spot the notebook rests. “Thank you,” I say again, taking small steps backward.

“You’re welcome… and remember if you need anything, let me know.”

I nod and turn, walking back toward my porch with a wide smile on my face, never looking back even though I’m tempted to.

For the first time in a long time, I feel good about tomorrow. That maybe things will be better? This has to be a sign. It has to be.

3

Lucca

Days blur into months, and I fall into a new routine. Julian has me working almost every day, but I don’t mind it. In fact, I’m glad. The money is good, and the work is… violent, to say the least, but it is exactly what I need.

I’ve never felt so balanced in my life. Working for Julian gives me a purpose, and being able to physically hurt people—to have them fear me—makes me feel powerful and in control, something I’ve never had before.

When I’m not working, I’m home. Usually, I hang out on the back porch, sipping a beer, and enjoying the fresh air.

Claire comes out and sits with me whenever her dad isn’t home. At first, I thought he didn’t like her being outside because he was worried about her, but the more I learn about him, the more I wonder if he’s just a prick who likes to control his daughter.

My gut churns. I know plenty about adults who treat their kids like shit, and I really hope I’m wrong about Claire’s father. Shit, I don’t even know his name. I need to find out more about him and make sure Claire is safe with him.

I could always ask Julian for help. Have him do a background check on the guy, or I could talk to Claire’s dad myself.

The girl has really grown on me, and I feel protective of her. Slowly, she’s become like the little sister I never had. Talking to her gives me a sense of normalcy in between all the chaos.

As if she can hear me thinking about her, she appears in front of me.

“Hi.” She beams, pressing up onto her tiptoes.

“Hey, butterfly, how was school?”

“Boring.” She frowns, holding her notebook tightly to her chest. I paid three dollars for it at the Dollar Store, but she treats it like it’s worth a million bucks.

“Yeah, school sucks, but keeping up your grades will help you get a good job later.”

She blinks slowly. “Did you have good grades in school?”

Fuck, no. I didn’t even graduate.

“They could have been better.”

“But you got a good job. I mean, you drive a nice car now, and you always buy me stuff.”

I withhold a laugh. She has no idea about the things I have to do, the blood spilled, or the broken bones. It’s not my job that is good, it’s me that’s good at my job, and there is a difference.

“My work is hard, and I would never want you to do what I do. Speaking of buying you stuff. I got you that chocolate bar you like.”

I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out the candy bar I grabbed at the gas station. I try to bring her stuff I know she likes because I know what it feels like to have nothing. I know how something as simple as a chocolate bar can brighten your entire day.

Her emerald green eyes light up, and she reaches for it eagerly. As she grabs it from my hand, her sleeve rides up above her wrist. My blood runs cold as I take in the black and blue marks along her pale skin.

“What the fuck?” I reach to grab her arm but stop myself, not wanting to hurt her more. Claire pulls her hand away as if I just burned her. The candy bar falls to the floor, but neither one of us reaches to pick it up.

“I-It’s nothing. I fell,” she stutters and stumbles back.

“Claire, don’t lie to me. What happened?” I take a step toward her, but she only retreats more. For the first time since we met, she is looking at me with fear flickering in her eyes, and that look feels like a sucker punch to the chest.

“Nothing happened! I just fell. It was my own fault,” she tells me, but her voice breaks at the end. She spins around and heads for her house.

“Claire…” I call after her, but she is already running through her back door, slamming it shut behind her.

I start walking after her, determined to figure out what happened when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Cruising under my breath, I take it out and look at the screen.

Markus: Meet me in ten minutes, corner of 10th and Williams St.

Shit.

I have to go, but I’m not going to let this go. I’m going to figure out who put their hands on Claire, and I will make them pay.

4

Claire

I stare down at the sidewalk as I trudge down the street and toward our neighborhood. The hole at the top of my shoe has gotten bigger, and I can now see my big toe poking out the top with each step I take.

Maybe I can convince Dad to go to Goodwill and get me a new pair of shoes? That is if he didn’t already spend his entire check. I try not to frown, even though I want to. I want new shoes and better clothes, but Dad is always telling me we can’t afford them. Sometimes, I wonder if what he really means is that he doesn’t want to buy it for me.

I look up as I come to the end of the sidewalk and enter the crosswalk. At the same time, a car pulls up beside me. I know better than to talk to strangers, but this isn’t a stranger. The car is a blacked-out SUV, and I only know one person with a car like this.

The passenger side window rolls down, and Lucca’s face greets me. “Hey! Get in. I’ll drive you home.”

I’m tempted to take him up on his offer, but then I remember his face when he saw my bruises. He’s going to ask questions. I know he won’t let this go, just like the counselor at school.

“I’m fine. I always walk home.” I don’t slow my steps, and Lucca keeps driving slowly beside me.

“Claire, get in. You ran away the other day without answering me. Now, you don’t have an option. I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what happened to your arm.”

I knew it.

“I told you, I fell.”

“Claire, get it,” he commands, his voice dark. The intensity of it makes me shiver.

“No.” I shake my head and tighten my grip on the strap of my backpack. I don’t say anything else as I make a sharp turn into the park and away from the road.

“Claire!” Lucca yells after me, which only makes my feet move faster.

I can’t let him get to me. I can’t let him find out what’s going on. It will only make things worse. My dad might actually kill me this time. He’s worried about Lucca, who he is, and what he’s doing. He doesn’t want me talking to him or being near him, and I don’t want to get beat again, so I’m going to do what I’m told. Like I should’ve done from the beginning.

I’m so caught up in my head that I don’t even pay attention to where I’m going or who I’m running into. All I care about at the moment is getting away from Lucca.

Too late, I realize my mistake.

“Look who came to hang out with us boys. Little Red,” someone snickers. I turn my head to where the voice is coming from, and my eyes connect with Daniel’s dark gaze.

Daniel live in my neighborhood and goes to high school. I think he is old enough to graduate but got held back a few years. The guys he is surrounding himself with are younger, but they all have one thing in common. They are bad news.

They are known as the troublemakers around school, and right now, that’s exactly what they look like, trouble. I count five of them, and immediately, I feel even more helpless. Five to one. As if one of them couldn’t easily overpower me.

Circling me like sharks, they surround me in seconds. My heart starts beating so loudly, I’m sure everyone in the park can hear it slamming against my ribcage.

“I need to get home; my dad is waiting for me,” I lie.

“Sure, he is. By home, you mean under the bridge?” Everyone chuckles, and Daniel grins mischievously. “Is he going to take you to the mall and buy you some new clothes?”

The group starts laughing, the sound hitting me like a wave of nausea.

“Maybe he’ll take her to the homeless shelter, where they eat the food that we threw out last night,” one of the guys says.

Ignoring their verbal assaults, I try to leave. Ducking in between two of them, I move quickly, but they cut off my way.

“Why are you trying to go so soon? It’s not like you have any place to be. We could buy you some clothes and food, you know?” Daniel suggests.

“Yes, we’ll take you to the store and let you pick whatever you want. You just have to do some stuff for us.”

“No,” I shake my head. I don’t even want to know what kind of stuff they would expect me to do.

“Why not? Don’t you want a new pair of shoes?”

“Let me go.” I try to leave again, just to be cut off a second time. Hoping to catch them by surprise, I spin around and run the other way. Unfortunately, I don’t get far. Someone grabs my wrist and pulls me back.

“Stop!” I try to pull out of his hold, but his grip is like an iron shackle. Someone else grabs my other arm, and they both start to pull me away from the park’s path.

Panic wraps around my throat, making it hard to breathe.

What are they planning on doing to me?

“Please,” I beg, digging my heels to the ground. My desperate plea only seems to make them more excited as they keep pulling me away.

This can’t be happening. I can’t let them hurt me. I have to fight or do something… scream. I suck in a deep breath, about to let out a cry for help when I see a large shadow move beside us.

Before I realize what’s happening, a hand wraps around Daniel’s throat. He lets go of my wrist, and his friend lets go a second after.

“You fucking punk!” Lucca’s deep voice booms through the air.

With one hand wrapped around Daniel’s throat, he holds him in place while starting to smash his other hand into his face.

The air stills in my lungs as I stare at Lucca. His face is distorted with rage, his lips curled in a snarl, and his eyes… his eyes are darker than black.

I’ve never seen Lucca like this. He almost looks like a different person.

Frozen in shock, I watch as two guys try to get Lucca off Daniel, but Lucca simply shoves the teenage boys away, like they are nothing more than fruit flies. Two more guys are running off, leaving their friends behind without a second glance.

Lucca’s fist tumbles down on Daniel’s bloody face until his body goes slack. For a moment, I think he is dead. Lucca let’s go of him, and I watch in horror as Daniel crumbles to the ground.

“Fuck, man! You killed him,” one of Daniel’s friends yells as he pushes himself back on his feet.

“He isn’t dead, but he will be, and so will you. If one of you fuckers ever touch her, talk to her, or even think of her, I will end you,” Lucca growls, and there is no doubt in my mind that he is serious. “I will find you, and I will kill you in the most painful way I can think of, and trust me, I can think of a few.”

I almost pee myself. My whole body is shaking, my feet are cemented into the ground, and my throat feels like there is a golf ball lodged inside.

Daniel is coughing and gasping for air on the ground, while his two remaining friends look at Lucca with pure terror in their eyes. With pale faces, both of them nod before helping Daniel to his feet and dragging him away.

“Are you okay?” Lucca turns to me, his eyes soften and his body relaxing. “Claire, talk to me. Did they hurt you? Let me see your arms, kiddo.”

His voice is soothing now, the menacing tone he’d used on my attackers is gone, and back is the sweet and caring guy I know. He steps in front of me and reaches for my wrists. Gently, he pushes up my sleeves and inspects my wrists one by one.

There is blood on his knuckles, but his touch is so tender, it makes me question if what I just witnessed was a dream.

“This will never happen again,” he warns, but his voice is still kind. “You should have told me, I could have scared them sooner. They won’t bother you again. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I thought you were going to kill him,” I admit, still a bit shaken up.

“I just wanted to scare them, Claire. He’ll have a bruised face and a bruised ego, but that’s all. Hopefully, he learned his lesson.”

Only then do I realize he thinks they were the ones who put the bruises on my arm in the first place. Relief washes over me in waves. Lucca thinks he fixed my problem, and even though he did fix one of them, the biggest one is still my own.

Lucca won’t ask any more questions, and for that, I’m thankful.

“Come on, let me take you home,” Lucca coos, holding his hand out to me. I take it and let him walk me back to his car.

This is the Lucca I know, the nice guy who cares for me. I don’t know what I thought I saw in his eyes before, but I must have imagined that darkness.

Lucca could never actually kill someone. He is way too nice.

5

Lucca

She’s looking at me like I’m Jesus, and I just turned water into wine. With her unruly red hair framing her face, her pale green eyes seem even brighter as she glances at me with wonder.

She doesn’t have the first clue who I really am or the evil that runs through my veins. I’ve killed, stolen, lied, and cheated. I’m the devil, waiting for you to slip up, so I can come to claim a piece of your soul.

I should tell her the truth, tell her that she just got a glimpse of the real me. I should tell her that I am a killer, that I’m an enforcer for the mob, and couldn’t love it any more than I do. I should tell her that I almost killed the guy who touched her, matter of fact, I still might.

But the reality is, I don’t want her to look at me like that. I don’t want her to know the real me. The thought of her seeing me in another light makes my stomach ache.

Plus, she’s just a kid. She doesn’t need to know the gritty details of my life.

Opening the passenger door, I take off her backpack, and I lift her into the seat. I watch her buckle up before I place her bag in the backseat.

Quickly, I walk around to the driver’s side and get in.

As I turn on the car, I glance over at Claire noticing how small she looks sitting in the large leather seat. Sometimes, I forget how tiny she is.

“Next time someone bothers you, you tell me right away, okay?”

“Okay,” she murmurs, but I don’t quite believe her.

“Did you tell anyone else about it? Your dad or your teachers?” I ask as we drive down the road.

“No.” She shakes her head and starts to shift in her seat, nervously. “Telling people makes it worse. I don’t want to draw attention to myself.”

“Not when I handle it. You tell me, and I’ll take care of it. Deal?”

She nods, but I’m still not convinced. “Maybe I should talk to your dad?”

“No! I’ll tell him,” her voice climbs and drops again when she adds, “he doesn’t like you very much.”

I noticed. The question is, why? Clearly, it’s not because he worries about his daughter’s safety or wellbeing. Could he possibly know who I work for? Is it possible he’s simply scared of me?

A few minutes later, we pull up in front of my place. My eyes immediately go to the beat-up Honda in front of Claire’s house. Her dad must be home early from work.

The front door flies open, and her father steps out on the porch. His eyes immediately find mine, accusing me of something without even knowing what happened.

“I-I got to go,” Claire’s voice is shaky, and when I look over to her, I notice that the rest of her is shaking too.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing… I mean… I’m not supposed to get in anyone’s car.”

“I’ll talk to him, explain what happened.”

“No, it’s fine.” Claire opens her door and slides out of the car.

Unbuckling myself, I’m about to get out of the car and run after her when my phone buzzes in my pocket.

Fuck!

I fish the sleek device out of my pocket and unlock it. Markus’ name flashes across the screen, and I know I can’t ignore the call, not even if I wanted to. Pressing the green answer key, I bring the phone to my ear.

“Yes,” I say, hoping I can keep the annoyance hidden from my voice.

“Meet me in fifteen minutes at the same place we used last time.” He ends the call, leaving no room for discussion, knowing that I’ll be there.

Looking up, I catch Claire and her father disappearing inside the house. Shit. I can’t make Markus wait. I’ll have to take care of Claire when I get back. At least she’s home now and away from the fuckers at the park.

Knowing she’ll be safe and content until I get back, I put the car in reverse and back out of the driveway, and head toward the warehouses in the industrial park.

* * *

The blood in my veins hums, and my finger slides over the trigger. The man is pleading for his life; a slew of excuses for not having the money he owes Julian fills the space. It’s hard to feel sorry for someone when you know the type of person they are. It’s not like this man borrowed money to care for his family. No, his debts are from gambling and using whores. His begging falls on deaf ears. Neither of us cares. We’re here to finish the job.

Markus gives me the head nod. I pull the trigger, keeping the gun steady in my hand. I don’t even blink in the time it takes for the bullet to whizz through the air and hit the fucker right between his eyes. The man’s eyes go vacant, and he slouches forward in the chair.

The sound echoes through the warehouse for seconds after life leaves his body. This is the way it is sometimes. One day you’re hunting someone down for a debt that’s owed, and the next, you’re putting a bullet in their head. It doesn’t matter to me what I have to do. That might be harsh, but that’s the reality of it.

I’m here because killing is something I like to do, and the paycheck isn’t bad either.

Markus turns, looking from the lifeless body and to me. “I’ll call for a cleanup crew and let the boss know the job is done.”

I nod and tuck my gun back into my pants. The first time I killed someone, I didn’t even blink, didn’t even feel a sliver of remorse. I knew then that I was made for this job. Since I’m eager to get back to Claire and explain to her father what was going on, I leave before the cleanup crew arrives.

The drive back home leaves me on edge, and I go a few miles over the speed limit to get to the house a little faster. I’m not sure what it is about Claire that makes me care so much. Part of me knows that it has to do with her being alone all the time. I know what it feels like to be alone as a kid, not to have anyone. I don’t want that for her.

Even if she refuses to tell me, I know there is more going on than she lets on. The bruises on her wrists are proof of that. Why is her father not protecting her from those punks?

At the reminder, I squeeze the steering wheel a little harder. She’s just a kid and doesn’t deserve to endure that shit. He is supposed to protect her.

When I finally pull into my driveway, relief floods my veins. I put the SUV in park and kill the engine before opening the car door and stepping out into the cool night air. My feet have just touched the ground, my spine barely straight when a scream pierces the air that has every hair on my body standing on end.

The sound causes something inside of me to snap, and in an instant, I know that Claire needs me. My vision becomes blurry, and I lose myself in the rage that consumes me.

I have to save her, protect her, at any cost.

6

Claire

Pain. I feel it in every cell of my body.

Pain is all I can think of as I lie on the floor, unable to get up. I try to make sense of what is happening. Why is my dad so angry? Why is he hurting me so badly? Is he going to kill me?

All the questions swirl in my head, but the pain won’t let me think.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Who he is?” My father spits, confusing me even more. “He is going to tell his boss where I am. He is going to kill me because I can’t pay back the money. Is that what you want, Claire? You want me dead?”

I try to shake my head, to tell him no, but as soon as I move, a sharp pain shoots down my neck. I open my mouth to speak, but my throat is so raw from crying out for help. My lips are dry and cracked, and I can taste the coppery ting of blood on my tongue.

“This is all your fault. Everything was great before you were born. Your mother loved me. We were happy, and then you had to come along.” He says it like I chose to be here.

My father paces through the room, a beer bottle in his hand. I follow him with my eyes since that’s the only part I feel like I can actually move without pain.

I want to tell him that I’m sorry, beg him to forgive me and stop hurting me, but my body is so weak. Everything hurts, and all I want to do is close my eyes and go to sleep.

“You destroyed my life!” my father yells.

My eyes fly back open just in time to see the beer bottle fly my way. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to turn away, but my movement is too sluggish. The bottle hits me in the side of the head, the glass shattering around me.

Agonizing pain erupts inside my head, like a million little bombs going off, crushing my skull and turning my brain to shreds. The room starts to spin around me, and all I can hear is a loud ringing in my ear.

My vision goes blurry, but something in the back of my mind is telling me to hold on, to keep fighting. Forcing myself to blink and keep my eyes open, I stare up at the ceiling and try to think of anything but the pain. There’s a loud pop in my ear, and the pressure is so great, it feels like my head is going to explode.

Above me, my father slams his fist against the side of my head, saliva clings to my skin as he spits words of hate at me. I feel something warm trickling down the side of my face. One more punch, and I can’t contain the scream that’s been building in my throat this entire time.

Fracturing like a piece of glass, I don’t even recognize the sound that escapes me. I let my eyes drift closed then, the darkness becomes a comforting balm.

Please, make it stop! I repeat over and over in my mind.

Then, as if God can hear my silent prayers, the weight against my body is removed. I force my eyes open, even though it feels impossible to do. The pain in my face is overwhelming, but for a brief moment, it becomes background noise when I see Lucca hovering over my father.

The world around me is silent, there is no sound, and all I can do is watch in horror as Lucca transforms right before my eyes, becoming someone else entirely. Fear replaces any happy thoughts I ever had about him.

There is a darkness in his eyes that makes it hard for me to breathe. Terror reignites in my veins as I lie helplessly on the floor and watch my father’s head bounce against the ground, over and over again like a basketball.

Lucca’s lips move, pulling back into a sinister grin as he speaks, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. All I can do is drown in the chaos. My eyes drift to a dark spot forming on the floor beneath my father’s head.

Blood. The puddle grows bigger and bigger, and it seems like forever before Lucca stops. I can’t look away from his hands. They’re coated in blood—so much blood. My entire body starts to shake when his eyes find mine. His penetrating stare submerges me into icy water. I’m afraid. I want to move, to run before he hurts me too, but I can’t make my limbs work.

Pain blankets every inch of my body. The darkness in Lucca’s eyes fades slowly, and he looks down at my father and back at me. The person I thought he was all along, the white knight, a friend, reappears.

Lucca crosses the room, fear overtaking his features as his gaze sweeps over my body. I struggle to move, trying to scoot away from him, but any type of movement makes the throbbing in my head worse.

With his powerful arms, he picks me up off the floor and holds me to his chest. I push with all my strength, trying to escape him, but I’m in too much pain. Too far gone to care what happens next. The coppery tang of blood is all I can smell as I breathe through my nose. Lucca peers down at me, his eyes liquid pools of amber.

“Call an… ambulance…” I croak, afraid that my father may be dead before they arrive.

“Everything is going to be okay. He’ll never hurt you again. I swear on it. No one will, not so long as I’m breathing,” he whispers, and I want to cry, but the tears aren’t there. I’m broken. The man I thought would never hurt me, that would save me from everything, just took my entire life and crushed it into a million pieces.

7

Lucca

My heart thunders as I bring the cell to my ear. I’m frazzled, looking between the road and Claire, who is lying back in the passenger side seat, rivulets of blood trickle down from her ear. I hope it’s not as bad as it fucking looks.

The only person that can help me is Julian. I’ll be indebted to him from this day forward, but wasn’t I already? After the third ring, he picks up. “I hope you’re calling to tell me that you got the job done.”

“The job is done. I’m calling about something else.”

“What do you need?” Julian might be a young boss, but he’s nothing less than powerful.

“I need a cleanup crew, and your assistance with the police.”

“What the fuck did you do?” He growls into the phone, and I know I need to clear this up before he gets some guys to start digging a shallow grave somewhere on his property.

“There was this young girl next door. Her father was beating her. He hurt her… bad, and I’m on my way to the hospital with her, but I know the moment I walk through those double doors, they’re going to call the police and start asking questions.” I pray that I don’t sound as weak as I feel.

There is a long pause, and I worry he might have ended the call. Claire groans in the passenger seat, and I press my foot against the gas pedal, willing the car to go faster.

“You should keep your nose out of other people’s business.”

I don’t want to beg, but I’m not above it. Claire is just a kid; she doesn’t deserve this. I’m close to breaking down when Julian speaks again.

“You’re a good worker and loyal to the family, so I will extend you a helping hand, just this once.”

It takes everything inside me not to audibly sigh.

“I’ll make some phone calls. They won’t give you hassle.”

“Thank you,” I say, my eyes darting to Claire. Her face seems even paler than it did a second ago.

“Don’t thank me yet. You don’t even know what I want in return.” I don’t get the chance to respond. The phone goes dead, and I pull it away from my ear and drop it into the cup holder. All my attention is back on Claire. I don’t care what I have to do for Julian, what hoops I have to jump through, or who I have to kill.

It’ll be worth it so long as Claire is taken care of and no one asks me any questions.

“Everything is going to be okay, butterfly. I’ve got you…” I tell her. I know the words I’ve just spoken are the truest I’ve ever said to anyone. I will take care of Claire.

* * *

As soon as we arrived at the hospital, they took her into a room to evaluate her, making me stay in the waiting room. Which is where remained for the past two hours.

I stare down at my hands, which are clasped together in my lap. Blood. So much blood. I can still hear her agonized screams, still feel the rage pulsing through my veins, the need to lash out so strong it controlled every thought and action. All I could think was to remove the problem, to hurt the person hurting her. I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. He deserved it anyway, and even if she hates me for killing her father, I did what was right.

Looking up, I peer around the waiting room, wishing I was back in the operating room with the doctors, making sure Claire is taken care of. Instead of sitting in this chair, waiting for a doctor to come to me.

My leg bounces up and down nervously until I shove out of the chair and march over to the front desk. I had to tell them Claire was my sister when I brought her in, or they wouldn’t have given me any information on her.

“Can you tell me if there are any updates on my sister?” I grit the words out as slowly as I can. I don’t want to cause a ruckus, but I need some answers before I explode.

“Claire, right?” she asks like she doesn’t already know.

“Yes.”

She makes a couple clicks on her computer and then looks up back at me. “There isn’t anything on my side to share. When the doctor is ready, he will come out and see you.”

I slam a closed fist against the counter, causing the woman to jump in her seat. “I want answers now. Is she okay?” I force myself to calm because if I don’t, I may rip this entire hospital apart piece by piece.

“I’ll… I’ll call back to surgery and ask…” The woman squeaks. I nod and drag myself back to the chair, slamming down into it.

I take my head into my hands. All I can think about is how she’s just a fucking kid, and now she has no one, I mean, she had shit before, but now she’s truly all alone. I knew the moment I brought her to the hospital, I would be the one to step up and ensure she was taken care of. Still, the mob isn’t any place for a child, and I’m not sure I’d be any better of a parent to her.

The thought of letting her go kills me, though.

“Mr. Torres,” someone greets, and I lift my head to find a doctor in a white coat standing in front of me.

I must’ve been so lost in thought that I didn’t hear him approach.

“Yes, that’s me.” My voice cracks. “Is she okay?” The beat of my heart drums in my ears, and my lungs burn as I hold my breath while awaiting his answer.

“The surgery went well. There was a small amount of internal bleeding that we stopped. Her right arm is broken. However, we managed to set it, so that’s good to go. Our main concern is the damage sustained to her eardrum.”

Panic claws at my insides. “What happened?” I barely withhold the growl threatening to pierce the air.

The doctor raises his hand in an I’m-not-the-enemy-here kind of way. “She suffered extensive damage to her inner ear. We fixed it as best as we could, but realistically, only time will tell if she’ll make a full recovery—”

I shove from the chair, all the emotions I’ve been keeping at bay rushing to the surface. “What are you saying? There’s a chance she won’t recover?”

“What I’m saying is that her eardrum might never heal, or it might not heal right. That means when she wakes up, she might be deaf or partially deaf. We won’t know until she is fully awake and can tell us.”

Deaf? She might be deaf? I could handle that. Handle anything as long as she isn’t dead.

“When can I see her?” I squeeze the arm of the chair to keep myself in place.

“In just a few minutes. The nurses are setting her up in a room right now and once they’re finished, I’ll have them come out and get you.” He smiles, but I can’t bring myself to return the gesture. I’m thankful that Claire is okay, but I know she’s got a long road ahead of her.

“Thanks, doc.”

“You’re welcome.” He walks back through the double doors and disappears into the E.R. leaving me alone with my thoughts once more.

All that matters is that she is okay. That she won’t have to return to that house or be hurt by her father ever again.

Thirty minutes and three coffees later, a nurse finally comes to get me. I feel sick to my stomach when I enter the room and find Claire lying there, hooked up to a bunch of machines with an IV protruding from her arm.

Her skin is ashen, in the spots that aren’t bruised, and she looks like a fallen angel. Battered and broken. I vow then, in that single moment, to never let something like this happen to her again, not as long as there’s air in my lungs and blood pumping through my body.

Moving closer to the bed, I spot her tiny hand cradled near her cheek. I want to reach out and take it into mine, to let her know that she isn’t alone. Dragging my gaze from her hand, I return to her face and find her eyes open.

They’re big and wide with the residue of sleep crusted to them. Recognition takes place in an instant, and the moment it does, she is easing as far back on the bed as she can, both terror and fear overtaking her features. The dread in her eyes, it shakes me to the core. Steals the air from my lungs and makes my heart skip a beat. She’s truly afraid of me. Afraid that I may hurt her the way I hurt her father.

All I can do is stare at her, see her delicate face morphed with fear and pain, see the bruising. Her green eyes glisten with unshed tears, and I hate seeing them there, knowing that I’m the cause for them. It eats me up inside.

I feel responsible for her, but knowing she is afraid of me, knowing that I can’t even get close to her, tells me everything I need to know.

8

Claire

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Lucca says. He is only a few feet away, but it sounds like he is at the end of a long corridor. His voice barely above a whisper.

“Y-youuu…” I croak, feeling the vibration in my throat but having a hard time recognizing my own voice. It seems so raspy and far away.

The nurse told me that I hurt my ear very badly and that I’ll have a hard time hearing, but it’s more than that. Everything feels wrong. All the sounds around me are off.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I pray that everything goes back to normal the moment I open them again.

“Claire, look at me.” Lucca’s voice reaches me, but only barely.

I shake my head slightly, making the insistent pounding inside my skull worse. I’m so confused, so lost. None of this can be real.

A few seconds later, I blink my eyes open again, hoping my surroundings have changed, but I’m still in the hospital bed. Lucca is still standing in front of me, looking at me like he knows exactly what I’m thinking of him now.

“Please, don’t look at me like this. All I did was protect you. He could’ve killed you. Hell, he almost did.”

“I… you’re a bad person. You work for bad people. My father told me. Told me that you would hurt me.”

He takes another step toward the bed, and my entire body starts to tremble. Pausing mid-step, he says, “Claire, I would never hurt you.”

“Don’t come any closer… or I’ll scream.”

“Okay.” He lifts his hands like he is showing me he’s not a threat before he takes a few steps back.

“I’m going to make this right…” The distance between us makes it harder to hear him now, but I don’t want him to come closer again. I have to look at his lips and watch them move to make out the words he is saying. “I will protect you, provide for you, and ensure you’re always taken care of.”

His words are heartfelt, and if he had said them to me a week ago, I would have been over the moon. Now, everything has changed. Now his words make my skin crawl.

I can’t shake away what I saw. I can’t forget the person he transformed into. He’s a bad man. A horrible man. Yes, my father hurt me, but he was still my dad, the only family I had. He didn’t deserve to die. He didn’t deserve what happened to him any more than I did.

“Claire, I know you’re scared right now, but I swear, I’ll make this right. I won’t ever let you down again. From now on, I’ll never let you out of my sight.”

His words cause a shiver to run down my spine because I know he is telling the truth. He is never letting me go again, and right now, that’s scarier than anything else.

* * *

Thank you for reading Fragile Wings, continue Claire and Lucca’s story in

Broken Beginnings

Keep reading for a sneak peak of Savage Beginnings…

About the Authors

J.L. Beck and C. Hallman are a USA Today and international bestselling author duo who write contemporary and dark romance.

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Also by the Authors

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***

DARK ROMANCE

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Savage Beginnings Sneak Peek

Chapter One

Elena

Slipping into my nightgown, I sit down on the edge of the bed and finish drying my dark hair while humming some pop song I heard on the radio earlier.

I’ve asked my father numerous times for a cell phone or laptop, but he swears it’s for my own protection that I have neither, so the radio is all I’ve got. Dropping the towel, a shiver skates down my spine when my long wet hair brushes over my shoulder.

Bending down, I reach for the towel. Before my fingers even touch it, a deafening knock booms through the room. It’s so loud and unexpected that a tiny shriek passes my lips.

Who the hell is that?

I glance at the clock on the wall and realize it’s after eleven. My father never calls for me this late, and besides him, who could it be? No one, that’s who. Since my mom’s death two years ago, my dad is the only person I have left. I have no other family and no friends, thanks to my father’s overbearing nature.

I wasn’t even allowed to go to school because he deemed it too dangerous for his little girl. Everything I’ve ever learned was taught to me through homeschooling. Covering my chest with one arm, I open the door and find Richi, one of my father’s personal guards, on the other side.

“Miss Elena, your father wants to see you in his study.” There is a strange look on his face, a mixture of fear and remorse. He’s never looked at me in such a way. Seeing how uncomfortable he appears to be makes me suspicious.

“Now?” I ask, still a little shocked, given the time. “Is something wrong?”

“Just come with me, please.”

Oh no, something is wrong. I can already feel it, something is definitely going on.

“Okay, let me get dressed real quick.”

“I’m afraid there is no time for that,” a deep, penetrating voice comes from behind the door, filling my ears. Opening the door a little wider so I can see who that voice belongs to, I almost gasp. There’s a man in a suit, a man I’ve never seen before, standing beside Richi.

In the dim light, it’s hard to make out the man, but from what I can see, he looks down-right sinister. His gaze pierces mine, and his lips press into a thin line, impatience rolling off of him in waves.

Now I’m really worried, why is a man I’ve never seen or met before inside our estate, much less outside my bedroom door.

“What’s going on?” I try to hide the panic from my voice, but even I can hear how nervous I am.

“Just come downstairs, Miss, enough with the questions,” the unknown man orders, and I know there is no sense in arguing. When you’re told to do something, you do it, that’s what my father always said. If my father has asked for me, then surely this is safe.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I step out into the hallway and grit my teeth at the cold that kisses my bare feet. Goosebumps spread out across my skin as I walk between the two men, wearing nothing but some panties and a thin nightgown. I really wish they would have let me put some clothes on. This is no way to greet my father or any visitors.

The walk to my father’s study seems to drag on, but when we reach the heavy wooden door, it doesn’t feel long enough. I don’t know what’s going on yet, but I do know it’s not good, and I’m not ready for it. My gut tightens with the unknown. I’ve had enough heartache in the last few years to last me a lifetime.

Looking up at the door, I don’t bother knocking, knowing that my father is expecting me. Reaching for the knob, I pause for one more second, mentally preparing for whatever awaits me on the other side. I’m not sure why, but I glance back at Richi and the unknown guy. Both look at me with blank expressions, which is nothing new to me. My father’s men are all trained to look at me like that. No emotions. Feelings get you killed.

Sucking in one last breath, I push the door open and take a step inside.

As soon as I catch a glimpse of what’s beyond the door, I want to retreat from the room. It’s a reflex, really.

Since I was a little girl, my father had trained me, told me to never listen to him, and his associates talk. To never listen to anything regarding his business. So, when I see him and three men in his office, I have this deep primal instinct to go in the opposite direction.

I shouldn’t be here. I can’t be here. My fingers tremble against the brass doorknob.

“Elena, come in,” my father says, his tone clipped.

He is all business at this point, and even as badly as I would like to run from the room and seek shelter in my bedroom, I know better than to disobey my father, especially in front of his associates.

On shaky legs, I walk further into the office, my arms still tightly wrapped around my chest as if I’m giving myself a hug.

“Take a seat, we have some matters to discuss,” he explains without looking at me. I hate how emotionless he sounds and looks, even more so than usual.

Two men I don’t know are standing off to the side while a third man is sitting at the desk opposite my father. All I can see is his back from the position I’m standing in, his broad shoulders and thick arms rest against the arm of the chair as he casually leans backward.

Averting my gaze, I keep my eyes trained ahead until I’m at his desk, then I sit down in the free chair, hating how my short nightgown rides up my thighs, exposing even more of my skin. I feel naked and wish now more than ever that I had fought harder to change my clothes.

“Elena, do you remember Mr. Moretti?” My father motions to the man beside me. “Julian Moretti.”

Moretti? The name sounds familiar, but I can’t pinpoint it right away.

As I glance over to the man in question, my heart thunders in my chest, trying to put a face to the name. Immediately, our eyes lock, his icy blue stare penetrates me like a sharp dagger… just as they did the first time we met.

I remember it well, and I know the exact date because the first time I met this man was at my mother’s funeral.

Just as most men I know, he too wears a mask of indifference. His eyes are blank, a carefully constructed wall placed around him, refusing to let anyone see the man beneath.

“You were at my mother’s funeral.” I simply state.

“Yes.”

His voice is deep and smooth, not matching the rest of him. Everything else about him seems rough and jagged. His jaw sharp, his cheekbones angular, and his lips pressed firmly into a tight line. He’s handsome in a devilish way, he could even be a model I’m sure. I can tell that he’s older than me as he has this air of maturity about him, but I’m not sure how old since he has no fine lines around his eyes, only a permanent scowl between them.

I wonder if this man has smiled a day in his life.

“Elena.” My father draws my attention back to him. “I need you to sign right here.”

He pushes a piece of paper across the mahogany desk and passes me a pen.

“What is this?” I look down at the document but can’t make out any of the words.

“Just sign it,” my father orders, his tone harsh. Cruelty isn’t something my father has ever shown me, and I can see he’s struggling even right now with how to act. He’s never been a great father, but that’s because of his absence and overbearing nature, not because he is unkind to me. Whatever this is about is weighing heavily on him.

Dragging the paper closer to myself, I grip the pen between my clammy fingers and start to sign my name at the bottom. The room is silent, and I can hear the pen gliding across the paper. I’m not even halfway through signing my name when my hand freezes. My eyes dart from the document before me and up to my father, then back again.

That can’t be right.

With the ink pen hovering over the paper, I reread the first few lines of the document.

Ownership Contract

This agreement confirms that as of today, Elena Romero will belong fully and without further stipulation to Julian Moretti in exchange for ten million dollars...

“What is this?” I question with fervor, dropping the pen as I pull back from the desk.

A knife twists in my chest, the edge digging deeper with every breath I take.

This can’t be what I think it is.

“Don’t question me. Just sign the damn document,” my father growls, slamming his fist down on the desk, and for the first time, he looks up at me. The coldness that reflects back at me makes me shiver. I’ve never seen him like this, and I don’t understand why he’s selling me to this man. Julian Moretti.

“I…” My bottom lip trembles and I bite it to stop it. “You can’t do this… You can’t sell me. I’m not signing this.” Tears blur my eyes at the betrayal that consumes me. I want to scream, to fight this with all my might, but I feel helpless. There isn’t a single person in this room that will help me.

The words have barely passed my lips when Moretti leans over and grabs my hand, engulfing his much larger one with my small one. Heat encompasses my hand, and it’s like being burned by fire. I try to pull away, but he only tightens his grip as he forces the pen between my fingers and my hand back to the paper.

“Please… don’t do this. You don’t want me.” I try and tug my hand away with all my might, my hand throbbing as he tightens his grip.

“But I do, Elena.” He speaks into the shell of my ear.

With bruising force, he presses the pen to the paper and guides my hand, forcing me to write the rest of my name. A sob breaks free from my lips, and big fat tears of weakness fall from my eyes. The man who now owns me smiles like the devil and releases my hand with ease, placing it down against the paper.

“Father… please?” I pull my hand from the document and press it to my chest.

“The contract is complete,” my father says on a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “She is now yours, do with her as you please.”

That statement has me blinking back tears.

“Please, don’t do this,” I whimper, looking up at my father, pleading with him.

How could he just sign me away to someone I don’t even know? Sell me for money? It’s like I don’t even know him. Like he’s not my father at all.

“It’s business, sweetie, don’t take it personal.” He shrugs and looks away from me, giving Moretti a get out of here gesture.

My mouth pops open, and I’m shocked, completely shocked. Where is my loving, caring father? The man who taught me how to ride a bike, the man who used to read me stories at bedtime, who held me when my mother died? He wasn’t always the perfect father, but I never expected him to do this.

“You can’t do this!” I hiss pushing up from my chair while slamming my fists down on his desk, but it does nothing but cause my hand to throb with pain.

He doesn’t see me, doesn’t care.

“Don’t worry, Romero. I’ll take good care of her… I mean… I’ll break her in gently,” Julian says darkly to my father. It’s like looking at a shark and expecting it not to bite you. The only difference is this man isn’t just going to bite me, he’s going to devour me, slowly, piece by piece.

Julian stands, smoothing his hands down his suit. My heart skips a beat, and my eyes dart over my shoulder. I want to bolt for the door, but know I won’t make it. Before I can devise an escape plan, his strong arm is circling my waist. He tugs me back against his hard chest and guides me toward the door.

I whimper like a wounded animal knowing the worst is yet to come. I’ve been sold to the devil, my body, mind, and life bound by an unbreakable contract.

Chapter Two

Julian

Wrapping one thick arm around her waist, I pull her from her father’s office, ignoring her tears and small whimpers. There will be many more in the following days.

“You don’t want me...”

Her words ring in my ear. Oh, how wrong she is. I more than want her… in fact, I’ve wanted her for a very long time. Years. And now, I finally have her and her father exactly where I want them. I’ve been watching, waiting, planning to take Romero down for the last five years. The moment he killed my mother, taking from me the one and only person who ever mattered, I’ve been plotting his downfall.

It wasn’t until Lilian Romero’s funeral that I knew exactly how I was going to get my revenge. Romero fell off the wagon after his wife’s death, his gambling problem multiplying into the millions. He thought he had time to pay his debts, he was comfortable and being comfortable left you vulnerable.

He didn’t have shit now—nothing but her.

Now, I finally have her, my prize. My Elena. A dark raven-haired beauty that would soon become my wife. As if she can hear me thinking her name, she shoves at my arm, her nails sinking into the flesh as she struggles to get away from me.

Oh, Elena, there is no getting away now.

Releasing her for a fraction of a second, I grab her by the waist and lift her up, tossing her over my shoulder with ease. The nightgown she’s wearing rides up with the movement, giving me a side view of her perfectly shaped ass and a glimpse of her satin panties that hide her virgin pussy. That too will soon be mine.

Markus, my second in command and the closest thing I have to a friend, walks ahead of me while Lucca, one of my best and most brutal enforcers, covers my back. We can’t be too careful in this place. I did just steal Romero’s daughter, after all. And a contract won’t matter if I’m dead.

I carry her all the way out to the car while she spends the entire time pounding her little fists against my back. She doesn’t actually think she has a chance of escaping me, does she?

When we reach the sleek black SUV, Markus opens the door. Turning around, his eyes fall on Elena, who is still struggling like a cat on my shoulder, her ass cheeks jiggling beside my face. Rage fills my veins, and I forget for a moment that Markus is my ally.

“Look at her again, and I’ll gouge your fucking eyes out.”

Most men cower in fear when I make a threat like that because everyone knows that when I make a threat, it’s not just a threat, it’s a promise. Markus is not most men, though, he takes in my words and gives me a respectful nod. If I didn’t know him better, I could have sworn his lips twitched up into a smile.

Fucker.

I put her down on her feet but grab her arm before she can make a run for it. Her feistiness only makes me want her more. She covers her chest with her free arm, trying to hide her tits covered only by the thin material. She’s beautifully naive, and the fact that she’s even trying to maintain an ounce of modesty in this situation proves that.

I give her a quick once over. Her soft shapely legs that I picture wrapped around my waist are on full display, her small body shaking like a leaf either from cold or fear… maybe both. She’s short, shorter than I remember her being, and fragile, so very breakable. My gaze moves over her delicate throat, which bobs as she swallows.

Her heart-shaped face is red, and her green eyes are puffy from crying. That raven hair of hers is a tangled damp mess. Still, she is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Beautiful and all-fucking-mine.

“Get in,” I order.

She merely shakes her head. I stare down at her, knowing full well I’ll never be able to hurt her like I’ve hurt others who disobey me, she is the only person who will ever have my mercy. Though there are other ways of disciplining her.

Pinching her chin gently between two fingers, I force her not only to hear the words I’m saying but also for her to see me speak them.

“Do it, or I do it for you, and believe me, you don’t want me to do it.”

Her emerald eyes widen with fear, and she must be able to hear the threat in my voice because her body starts shaking furiously. Pulling away, she reluctantly climbs into the car, sliding across the backseat, going to the spot furthest away. There is ample room between us, and I decide to let her have this small space, giving her a sense of control since I just took most of that away from her. I should probably feel bad about how I ripped her from her father’s hands, uprooted her without warning from the only home she’s ever known.

A good man would feel terrible, but the truth is I’m too selfish to feel any remorse. All I feel is a sense of accomplishment. I’ve waited for a long time, watching as the Romero family struggled to stay afloat.

“Where are we going?” Elena surprises me with her meek voice, and I look over at her. She’s all doe eyes and innocence. Breaking her will be a crushing blow to her father.

“Home.”

She wraps her slender arms around her torso like she is hugging herself before turning away from me again to stare out of the window. Her small body trembles, and I can make out goosebumps on her creamy smooth skin.

“Turn up the heat, Markus.”

“Got it, boss.”

For the rest of the drive home, we sit silently—only the engine’s sound and the occasional sob filling the cab.

By the time we pull to the compound, I’m sweating profusely under my three-piece suit. Markus must have turned up the heat to well over a hundred degrees. As soon as Markus opens the door, I slip out of the car.

The fresh air cools me, and I inhale a harsh breath into my lungs. Turning around, I’m prepared for a fight, or at least a struggle and am pleasantly surprised to find Elena sitting on the edge of the seat waiting to get out.

Maybe this won’t be as hard as I had assumed it would be.

Eyes cast down, she wrings her hands in her lap nervously. Sliding off the seat, her small feet press against the gravel, and I contemplate picking her up to carry her inside when she winces at the contact. I love how fragile she is and how much I know she’ll need me to make it through everything I have in store for her. When I’m done with her, she will rely on me for every single thing she wants or needs.

Obviously, I’m far too trusting because she slips past me like a small mouse. Breaking off into a dead run, she dashes past the car and down the driveway. I’m not worried, though, since there isn’t anywhere for her to go.

She doesn’t make it far before one of my men grabs her, tugging her by the arm a little too roughly. I grit my teeth, my jaw clenching as I bite back the need to tell him to get his fucking hands off of her. Anger zings through me when he tugs her again, and she loses her balance falling onto the ground, scraping her knees and legs in the process.

“Let go of me!” She screams, sobs ripping from her lungs in quick succession as she pulls against Roger’s hold, trying to break free. The strap of her nightgown slips off her shoulder in the process, and she almost flashes a tit at my men.

Fuck no. No one gets to see what is mine.

Walking over to her, I gesture for Roger to let her go, and he does almost as quickly as he grabbed her, retreating two steps back. I’ll deal with him later. Right now, I need to get her inside and put her in some different clothes. My men have seen enough of her already.

Looking down at her exposed legs, I see scratches from where she fell, so I’ll need to make sure she isn’t actually hurt. Reaching down, I grab her by the hips, feeling the heat of her skin beneath my hands and toss her over my shoulder like I did earlier.

A growl forms in my throat as I become aware of how she barely weighs anything.

She doesn’t even fight me and rests motionless on my shoulder as I carry her into the house, through the foyer, and up the stairs to the bedroom we will share. Pushing the heavy wooden door open, my shoes slap against the tile as I walk across the room and deposit her on my bed… our bed. The moment her butt hits the mattress, she looks up and scoots backward until her back is pressed against the headboard.

Big green eyes brim with fear. I could tell her she is safe here, that nothing bad will happen to her. But that would be a lie. She isn’t safe yet, especially not from me.

“Stay here, get comfortable. I’ll be back soon,” I tell her as I slowly walk back toward the door. I’ve got blood to spill before I can tend to my new toy.

Looking at my beautiful prize one last time, I close the door and lock it behind me.

I let the anger that I was swallowing down boil up to the surface as I make my way through the mansion and toward the front door.

Stepping outside, I find Edwardo guarding the porch. He turns to look at me, his hand reaching for his gun before he recognizes it’s me.

“Is Roger still out here?”

“Yes, boss. He is doing a round over the west lawn. Is everything okay?”

“It will be…” I snap before walking off and into the night.

Chapter Three

Elena

Huddled against the headboard, I watch as the door closes, the last sliver of his face disappearing behind the wood and the lock clicking into place. The sound is only a reminder of how trapped I am here, how I was taken from one cage, and put in another.

At least with my father, I knew where I stood. Or I least I thought I did. I knew what was going to happen each day, and I had some freedoms, not many, but not none. Now, I have nothing. No structure, no freedom, no say in anything… not even over my own body.

My life is no longer my own. I’ve been sold by my father to this evil villainous man.

“She is now yours, do with her as you please.”

My father’s words replay in my head. I can’t believe he did this, sold me to Moretti.

Tears slide down my cheeks as I stare at the door. The room is lavish, manly, and blanketed in grays and dark blues. If the circumstances were different, I might actually be able to appreciate the beauty of it.

After a few minutes of staring at the door, I move off the bed to search for some type of way out of this room.

Walking to the first door I find, I discover an entire closet filled with clothing. I look down at my partially ripped nightgown. Who knew when I put this thing on tonight that it would be the last thing I would have from my old life?

I feel exposed and vulnerable in nothing but this, so I pull it off altogether and throw it on the ground. Quickly, I grab one of the shirts off a hanger.

I’m not sure if he is going to be mad at me for taking his stuff. Will he hurt me if I do? Punish me? Deciding it is worth the risk, I pull it on over my head and let it drift down before shoving my arms through the sleeves. The shirt is more like a dress, and the hem comes to rest against my bruised knees. A shiver snakes down my spine at the size difference between us. This man could easily hurt me, snap my neck, or take whatever he wants. My lungs burn, and I realize I’m not actually breathing.

Calm down. Everything is going to be okay. You can do this, Elena.

Grabbing the collar, I bring it to my nose and inhale deeply, the smell of cotton and soap tickling my nostrils. I do this a couple more times until the burn in my lungs eases.

Walking out of the closet, I go to the next door, knowing it’s a bathroom before I even open it. It’s clean and organized, but that doesn’t make me want to stay here. No matter how lavish this place is, no matter how much he offers me, nothing will ever make me want to stay with him. Then again, who’s to say he will offer me anything. He’s paid ten million dollars for me, surely, it’s me that will have to offer him something.

I curl my hand into a fist; anger and sadness festering like a cancer deep in my gut. I have to get out of here. Going to the door that I know is my only exit, I grab the brass knob, not caring that it’s most likely a dead end. I heard the lock click into place. There might not be any escaping this room right now, but that isn’t going to stop me from trying.

Taking the chance anyway, I turn the knob and push against the wood as hard as I can. Like I assumed, the door doesn’t move, not even an inch. A sob lurches from my throat, and I place my cheek against the cold wood, hoping to maybe hear something. Not sure what I’m listening for, but the unknown surrounding me is worse than knowing what’s going to happen. If I knew, then at least I could mentally prepare myself for it.

When my legs grow heavy, I walk over to the single window in the room and sit down on the floor below it. It’s as close to escaping as I’m going to get. From here, I can still see the bedroom door, so I can watch to see when he returns. There is no way in hell I’m going to lie down in that bed like a freaking offering.

The darkness outside calls to me, and I twist around and stare up at the stars that hang high in the sky, moving to the glowing moon until my eyes start to grow heavy, and I find myself leaning against the wall, exhaustion sinking its claws into me. Drifting in and out of sleep, I find myself waking at every tiny noise.

My eyes pop open, and my back goes ramrod straight when I hear the lock on the door disengage. Blood rushes in my ears, my heart feeling as if it’s being squeezed between two hands. As soon as Julian enters the room, I push to my feet.

I don’t want to be on the floor, feeling even smaller and more vulnerable than I am. My throat seems to close up, and a deep-rooted terror explodes within me when he turns toward me, and I see the red splotches of blood on his white button shirt, hands, and neck.

I can’t be sure, but I don’t think any of the blood is his. The hungry look in his eyes steals the air from my lungs, and I wish the floor would swallow me whole.

He smirks at me. “You waited up for me? How sweet of you.”

Turning his back to me, he locks the door and stashes the key back in his pocket before heading to the nightstand and setting a bottle of water on it.

Without another word, he walks into the bathroom. He doesn’t close the door all the way, leaving it propped open a few inches. The sound of the shower fills the room, and a moment later, steam starts to come into the space.

Exhaustion weighs me down like a heavy blanket, and I slump back down to the floor. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I pull them up to my chest, wishing I could make myself small enough to disappear.

It takes a lot out of me to keep my eyes open. I’m so tired I just want to go to sleep, but I know that would be too good to be true. I highly doubt he bought me, took me from my home, and brought me to his bedroom for a good night’s sleep.

I never thought this would be how I’d lose my virginity. Arranged marriages are normal in our family, so I saw it coming. I had always been aware of the fact that I wasn’t going to have a choice in who I would marry, but I was sure that my father would choose a good man for me. Someone who wouldn’t hurt me. Someone who’d court me, who I would meet first and have dinner with, not someone who comes and tears me from my home in the middle of the night.

I didn’t expect love, but I did expect safety. I realize now how naive I’ve been.

Resting my head on my knees, I listen to the shower spray, letting it calm my nerves a little. The sound reminds me of heavy rainfall, and I happen to like the rain. I like how it feels on my skin, how it smells, and how it sounds as it pelts against the rooftop and windows.

I’m so disoriented and exhausted that I don’t realize I’ve dozed off again until I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder. My eyes fly open, and I find my captor’s large body looming over me. The smell of soap hits me, and as I trail my gaze up his body, I find that he’s naked except for a pair of boxers.

“Get on the bed,” he orders gruffly.

“No. I’d rather sleep on the floor.”

“I didn’t ask where you wanted to sleep. I said to get on the bed. I’m not asking.”

When I don’t move right away, he grunts annoyingly and leans down, ready to pick me up. As soon as his hands touch me, I lose it. I can’t let this happen without a fight. I just can’t. It’s not in me. I won’t be a victim. His hands reach for me again, and I start swinging my arms wildly, kicking out my legs, and flailing my body. I do anything I can to fight him off.

As if I’m nothing more than an annoyance to him, he grabs my upper arms and pulls me to my feet, ignoring my kicks to his legs. In two large strides, he pulls me to the bed and pushes me on the mattress.

In the next instant, he is on me. My chest heaves, terror rippling through me as his much larger body comes down on mine, trapping me against the mattress. Even with him holding himself up with one arm, he is so heavy that I can barely breathe. Placing both hands against his chest, I push with all my might, but he doesn’t move an inch.

The terror grows ten-fold, and I find myself spiraling out of control. Before I know what I’m doing, I lash out at him, sinking my nails into the side of his face, dragging my hand down, scratching across his face and neck in a frenzy.

“Fuck,” he growls, and snatches my wrists, pinning them above my head. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I’m trapped and at the mercy of this horrible man.

Blinking the tears away, I look up at his face, and my eyes go wide with shock. Multiple large scratches are marring his skin. Some of them so deep, blood pools on top of the skin.

I did that. I hurt him.

I look from the gashes and into his eyes, the pale blue is almost gone, his pupils so dilated that his eyes seem black. His whole body vibrates, and there is a distinct vein popping out on this forehead. He is angry, very, very angry. And I’m about to feel that anger.

The only thing I can do now is hope that I make it out of here alive.

* * *

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