Page 62 of Owned by the Italian Mafia Boss
“Help,” I croak, weakly, sounding more like a groan. My vision blurs, and I notice we are the only cars on the road.
He opens the back door to the ruined SUV he’s driving and lies me down across the seat. My limbs feel heavy. I can’t move.
“No one can help you. I made sure of that,” he says, slamming the door shut.
Shutting my eyes is easier as we move. I can’t handle watching the motion of the car. I try to open the door, lift my arm and reach for the handle, but my limbs are too heavy to move.
Sweat breaks out over my skin, the wound on my leg throbs, and my head hurts. Blood wets the seat below me. I don’t want Carmine to find me like this, but I hope like hell he does. I don’t have my phone with me, so there’s no way for him to track me.
Tears drip down my cheeks, and I think of the memories I’ve created with Carmine—the sweet ones, the bad ones, the arguing, the love, the baby.
Our baby.
The baby we will never experience together.
The car stops, and the driver’s door slams, causing an ache to spread through my head. He opens the back door and drags me out, lifting me into his arms. I don’t know where we are going, but I hear the creak of metal.
Opening my eyes, I notice we are behind a large building and have just stepped into a cellar. He closes the door behind us and descends the steps before flipping the light on. I wince from the brightness, and I’m set in a chair. I groan, unable to fight him as he pulls my arms back and ties my wrists together. He does the same to my feet.
Lifting my head, I sway, trying to open my eyes. I notice old lab equipment and a metal table off to the side. There’s a stained plastic curtain blocking the stairs. When the blurriness creeps into my vision again, I squeeze my eyes shut and take a breath.
“He’ll find me,” I slur, trying to scare my captor. “He always finds me.”
“How? You don’t have your phone, Delilah. You have no tracking device on you at all.” He lifts a large knife into the air, and the light reflects off it. “I think we will start small. A pinky finger to give him a warning.”
“Why not…” I try to focus on my words. “Why not just take me to Romano?”
He laughs and slides the knife under my chin. “Silly little girl. You truly know nothing of this world. Romano won’t be associated with you. It’s a way to keep his hands clean. He can say he never touched you. I’m paid very well to make sure I handle all the dirty little details. I’m a professional.”
“I see,” I mumble, my fingers tingling from the tightness of the ropes. “Why…” I swallow. “Why now? Why stalk me and go to my classes?”
“I had to learn your schedule, to make sure you were really with Milazzo. I don’t kill unless I’m certain I have my target.”
“Carmine will pay you more not to kill me. I’m worth more than anything Romano could pay you.” I don’t want to tell him about the baby because I’m not sure how he’ll react. What if he finds joy in cutting me to pieces so he can hold the little bundle of cells forming? I can’t risk it. “I swear, anything you want, any amount of money is yours.”
“I’ve been very loyal to the Romano family for years. Nothing could make me betray them.”
He slices through a piece of my hair and brings it to his nose. His eyes close as he inhales, his body trembling from the scent. “God, you smell so fucking good. A shame to destroy such a beautiful thing.” He tucks my hair into his pocket. “For later.” He winks at me.
I gag again, but I hold it down. I don’t want to show him he is affecting me. I can’t afford to show him so much weakness. He’ll get off on it.
“You’re sick.” I roll my head across my shoulders, the dizziness making it hard to keep my head up.
“I’ve been called worse.”
He drags the knife down my chest, cutting through the material of my sweater and exposing my skin. I roll my lips together, holding in a scream as the tip of the blade kisses my flesh.
“Your skin is like butter. It’s perfect.”
“Please…” A tear breaks free from my lashes. “Please, don’t do this. I’m begging you. I’ll do anything.” A sob shakes my shoulders. “I don’t want to die.”
“Oh, I know. I know you don’t,” he croons at me, straddling my lap as he hugs me. He rubs his fingers through my hair, and my tears drop onto his shirt. He smells of cigarettes and sweat. The smell causes me to turn my head so I can breathe. “I know you don’t want to die. No one truly wants to die. How about this,” he cups my face, and his brown, lifeless eyes dart between mine, “I’ll make sure you’re already dead before I start cutting parts. I’ll kill you quickly. It will be fast. You won’t feel a thing. You’ll be here one second, and in the next…” he curls his fingers, explodes them free from his palm and blows. “Poof. You’ll be gone. It isn’t a kindness I give to everyone because the best part of my job is hearing the screams, the pleas.” He leans in, tilting his head as his lips come close to mine. “Fuck, I love the pleas, but I find you very beautiful. I’ll give you that peace.”
There’s no getting out of this, I realize. I’m going to die. As I accept my fate, I stop crying, stop begging, and let the tears dry on my cheeks.
If I had known the last time kissing Carmine was truly the last time, I would have savored it more. I would have savored him more. I’ll never be a mother, and I’ll never give Carmine what he truly wants.
“How will you do it?” The question is completely monotone as I stare over his shoulder, and as he swings his leg off me to get up, my thigh throbs from the wound. Blood pulses out, dark and oozing.
