Page 50 of Claiming His Mafia Princess

I press my hand over a cut on my side, the impact of a boot split my skin open.

My body is shaking even more now. I dare not say anything.

I know this man is not the reason. Nothing I say is going to help my situation.

I don’t even know what he wants from me. I don’t know what information he is trying to get.

The men all walk away from me. One by one, they turn their backs on me as though I was a stray dog they didn’t care about. As though I was nothing, no one, worthless and useless. Because, after all, that is what I am to them.

The massive light above me flickers, clicks and goes out.

Darkness.

My fears coming to life as the shadows in every corner make shapes. Creeping towards me.

I shift, moving in painfully slow motions to the center of the floor. Where the only bit of light is still touching.

Pale blue light is filtering through the small windows near the ceiling. Those windows are at ground level outside, but in here they are high above me.

Pale blue snow tinted light.

It makes the space look colder. It feels empty and threatening - that pale light - void of life.

But at least it softens the edges of the darkness. I don’t know what I would do if there was only darkness.

I am terrified of the dark.

I lay in the cold shadows on the concrete floor of Lenny Malone’s basement and cry. My body is shivering that my muscles feel like they are spasming in pain.

I roll onto my side as I pull my legs up against my chest, wrapping my arms around them to hold myself in the smallest ball I can. Trying to keep my warmth, what little of it I have.

My father sold me to this man.

He sold me to this man so that he wouldn’t have to go to jail for a few years.

He thought that this torture, this pain, this degrading treatment - this absolute cruelty - was a fair trade for him staying free.

My lips are numb as the coldness creeps deeper into my body.

I can feel death looking over my shoulder. Whispering sweet promises in my ear.

Soon it won’t hurt anymore.

Soon you can close your eyes and forget about this pain.

“I don’t want to die.” I whisper back, my voice startling me.

The tears that run over my cheeks feel warm. They remind me I’m not dead yet.

I can’t die. Because I want to see him again.

I want to lie in his arms and hear him say my name. I want to see the way the corners of his lips curl up and create those gorgeous dimples in his cheeks.

I want to trace my fingers over the devil’s mark on his body, the jagged edges embossed into his skin forever.

Iclose my eyes, but I feel my body drifting, as though death is disguised as sleep.

I can’t sleep now. I might never wake up.

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