Page 63 of My Merciless Don

I dropped the gun on the table. Marco picked it up and placed it back into his holster. He then put his hand on my shoulder and led me out of the room. I went willingly just wanting to be elsewhere - somewhere I didn't have to think about my stepfather or what he had done to me.

Somewhere I could break.

My body was beat to hell and my mind felt like the consistency of oatmeal porridge - just mush. I could barely hold my head up, my spirit was so low. I had no idea how I would get back up from this one.

I could feel my father's eyes on me as we walked past him. He had taken a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped up his wrist. I turned to look at him one last time and saw that he was walking away in the other direction.

It was very poetic really, just how he liked it.

Now that I saw it, it was difficult to unsee. It was as if he was in a play with all of us but he was the only one who had the script. I had no doubt he was not done with me. James Martin does not give up until he gets what he wants.

But he wasn't the only one who could write a play.

As we stepped past the numerous bodies, Marco’s men doing a sweep to make sure they got everybody, I let myself dissociate a little. So it was a bit of a surprise when we stepped out the door and I saw that night had fallen.

“How long was I abducted for?” I asked softly.

Marco's voice rumbled; I could barely hear the words he was saying. But maybe that was because I wasn't totally present. What I did hear was that it was the same day, and it was a relief to me. I wondered vaguely if I had brain damage and if that could be the reason why I had lost track of time. Yegorov had hit me a lot, may his soul burn in hell.

Marco led me to his car, nudging me gently into the passenger seat, and strapping me into my seat belt before getting in the driver's seat.

He paused to have a conversation with someone who was outside the car - I didn't bother to listen or note who he was talking to. It was none of my business, and I preferred to just lean back and close my eyes, running away from the memory of all the physical and mental blows I had taken. It took all my concentration just to do that.

As the car began to move, I opened my eyes watching the scenery pass by. I didn’t recognize the area. I was just as lost as I felt inside. All my life I had been fed a narrative of who I was, and who I wasn't.

Now I wasn't sure any of it was the truth, which left me with a huge gaping hole where my identity used to be. What was a girl to do?

I felt warmth against my fingers and looked down to see that Marco had covered my hand with his. Tears pricked my eyes again and I almost started bawling like a baby. I blinked back the tears and swallowed the lump in my throat, though I did hold on very tightly to Marco’s fingers, my only comfort in the dark.

He didn't have to say anything. I just knew that he would be there for me.

But I was thirty-one years old, and if life had taught me anything, it was to rely only on myself. So, while it was comforting to have him by my side, I knew I would have to build myself back up, brick by brick, alone.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

AUDRY

Marco could only protect me for so long. Sooner or later the other crime families would come for me.

I woke up with this thought in my mind every day following Yegorov’s death, and I wracked my brain for a way to fix it. To Marco’s credit, he didn't tell me not to worry. He didn't offer to fix it for me. His own hands were full.

Organized crime had taken a break from worrying about the money I took to dealing with the fallout from the death of Aleksandr Yegorov.

Having taken the Pakhan out, Marco had taken it upon himself to clean the house. The same day that he rescued me, he sent eight teams of assassins out. They took out the rest of the Bratva high command in Los Angeles, like they'd been wanting to do for ten years.

The head of the Council was pissed as fuck about him going off script. But I had a little juicy morsel, to help Marco with that. Among the little secrets that I had harvested from my little foray into the organized crime files where details of an account in the Seychelles belonging to Nicolò De Luca.

“He wasn't just paying him a little kickback to keep you off his back, he was also supplying De Luca’s organization with girls. De Luca had every reason to want him to stay in business,” I told Marco.

The satisfied look on Marco's face when he heard that, and the way that he sighed and leaned back in his chair, was more than enough for me to think that the chairman of the council had a world of hurt coming his way. It pleased me to be of use to Marco in such a way. Excellent use of my time and resources.

I was living with him in his Hollywood apartment, keeping a very low profile while we figured out what we wanted us to be. I thought that I would have heard from my dad by now but he kept his distance. It didn't comfort me much.

It was Kylie who came up with a solution to my mafia problem. As the man who had taken Yegorov down, Marco was the de facto heir to his territories. “Why don't you persuade him to share out the territories evenly with the families in exchange for your life? He loves you right? Would he do that for you?”

I sighed, “I don't know but I think he just might. I want to solve this on my own though.”

“Yeah, well, Marco might have his territories but you have access to his money.”

---