Page 4 of Brutal Surrender

But I’m not going to give Vincent any of what he wants to know. First off, I wouldn’t betray Brady, the only friend I have. And it wouldn’t do me any good anyway. Vincent isn’t going to spare me in the end. And my greatest hope at the moment is that Brady can succeed where I failed.

I came so close. So very close. It had taken me and Brady over a year to be in a position to get Vincent. A lot of it was luck. Brady’s cousin was promoted within the Black Dragon and able to secure Brady a job on Vincent’s yacht. It was harder for me, but Brady discovered there was another new hire named Ramon Sanchez. Before Ramon could report for work, Brady and I found him and tied him up, leaving him the last thousand dollars I had for his troubles. I cut my auburn hair short and presented myself as Ramon Sanchez while Brady went by the name Ben.

We were on Vincent’s yacht in the middle of the Caribbean Sea, bound for Jamaica, when an opportunity came up. Vincent was banging a woman from a rival triad, and she had ordered champagne to be brought up to her suite on the yacht. Brady wasn’t around at the time, so I made a solo decision to go for it. Champagne bottle in hand, I made it past Vincent’s security and into the woman’s suite. As soon as I was in the bedroom, I wasted no time in pulling out my Sig Sauer. But Vincent has crazy reflexes. The bullet came within an inch of his head. His bodyguards rushed in, and a few minutes later I found myself pinned beneath Vincent, his crotch brushing up against mine. I remember how hard I struggled against his chokehold, jamming my fingernails into his flesh and ripping off skin.

When he figured out my name wasn’t Ramon Sanchez, or even Ramona Sanchez, he seemed determined to know who I really was. I don’t know where the name Irene came from. I don’t know any Irenes, but it was the name that popped out of my mouth.

I’m never giving Vincent my real name. Vincent has more than what most people could ever hope for: immense wealth, unchecked power, men and women fawning over him.

Thanks to Vincent, I have next to nothing.

After he had my parents, my beloved older sister, and my little brother killed, I went to live with my nonna. We lived in seclusion, worried that Vincent’s men would come after me if they realized I had survived. My grandmother didn’t try to access whatever money my father might have left behind. She knew her son was Mafia, and that’s probably why he was targeted.

A year later, when I was sixteen, Nonna died of a broken heart.

My real name, Martina Rossi, is a small thing, but it satisfies me to know that there’s something Vincent wants but doesn’t have. I’m somewhat surprised he hasn’t figured out who I am yet, but I guess he’s made too many enemies to keep track of.

“Or maybe I should say it’s your unlucky day,” Vincent corrects. “Because, for you, getting to live is a fate worse than death.”

Whatever seemed to unsettle Vincent earlier has dissipated, and he’s back in the comfort of his sadistic self.

“Your only gleam of hope is giving me the names I want.”

“You don’t have anything better to do than to keep me alive?” I ask through parched lips.

“I didn’t expect you to be such a fun fucktoy. The way you referred to yourself as daddy’s little cum slut, that was hot.”

I didn’t call myself that, you stronzo. You did.

“And the way your pussy milked my cock,” he continues, making me want to plug my ears or even slice them off if it meant I wouldn’t have to listen to him anymore, “it’s like your body wanted to catch, like it wanted me to breed you. How would you like that? I’ll knock you up good, let you have my baby, then knock you up some more. An endless cycle of fucking and breeding till your eggs run dry.”

He’s just messing with you, I tell myself. But what if he’s not? If he’s not…then kill me now.

There’s got to be a way I can get him to kill me. Maybe a way I can kill myself…

“You’re, what, twenty years old? You have decades of breeding years. You think you’d be up for that much fucking? If I’m in a rut, I could fuck you twenty-four seven. What would that be like for you? Coming on my cock dozens of times a day. Would you like that? Or hate it? I think you’d lean towards hating it. But there’s nothing you can do about it. I own you. I will use and abuse every inch of you. And when I’m done, I’ll own your dignity, your will to live, and what’s left of your soul.”

Chapter 3

Martina

Ipretend like I’m completely unaffected by what Vincent just said, but the truth is I’m shaken. I already thought the worse of him, but what he just described is a level of darkness I had never considered.

When I decided to try to kill Vincent, I knew there was a pretty good chance I would wind up dead in the process. I wasn’t afraid to put the gun to myself to avoid the sort of fate that Vincent just described. Brady and I made a pact we would commit suicide before we gave each other up. Nothing was more important than seeking justice for our loved ones, for my family and for Brady’s fiancée.

I will forever be haunted by the final moments for my father, mother, sister and brother. Matteo was only five years old. Isabella, the best and most gorgeous older sister anyone could have, was about to graduate from Juilliard and gift the world with her beautiful voice. I worshipped Bella, and lost not just a sister but a second mother because ours was often busy living the high life, sunning herself in Capri or shopping in Milan.

My father was the head of the Rossi family mafia, a small organization based in Miami. He never talked about the family business with me, but I’d overheard him discussing how the Aroldos family out of Tampa was attempting to expand and compete for the opportunity to partner with the Black Dragon Triad to distribute their omega blockers. I never thought the Aroldos were bloodthirsty enough to try to take us out, but it turns out it was Vincent.

There were two gunmen that fateful. One had a scar that ran down the right side of his face, from his eyebrow down to the middle of his cheek. The other had tattoos up and down his arms, including the signature symbol of the Black Dragon Triad. I will never forget their faces, nor their words.

“This will send a clear message to anyone who even thinks about messing with the distribution of our omega blockers,” said the man with the scar.

“You sure Vincent wanted the wife and kids dead, too?” the tattoo man asked.

“Vincent said to kill them all. Besides, it’s too late now.”

“I didn’t know there was gonna be kids here. I’ve never heard the boss order the killing of a kid before.”

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