Page 75 of Runaway in the Mafia
“Not for long, you won’t.” His tone was sharp. Final.
What is he going to do?“You ca—”
“I don’t want to fucking hear it!” he roared before surging towards me. I screamed and crashed back to the wall. He stopped, startled, as if realising his actions, only then, and shifted and paced to the other side of the room. Ran his hands through his hair. Gave me his back and laughed. There was nothing humorous about it. Heavy silence seeped in.
He threw a glance to the side, his eyes gazing past the wall of glass. For the first time, I noticed his house. It was beautiful. Perfect. Worthy of being in a magazine. Worthy of him. It was light and airy. So unlike the mood in the room.
“Is he the one who hit you?” His gaze had dropped to the floor.
“I—” I didn’t even know how to answer that. So I didn’t.
“How many times?” he growled.
I shook my head. He erupted. Spun and stormed towards me. I crawled against the wall. He stopped six feet from me.“How many fucking times did he lay a hand on you, Ahana?”
“I don’t—”
“Bullshit. When a man lays a hand on you, you know exactly how many times. You should.”
I did. “Six.” And his gaze raged. Went pitch black. He changed right in front of me. Went from a lunatic to a monster in one shift. “But it doesn’t matter,” I added hastily.
“It doesn’t matter?” he snickered in a cold tone I didn’t recognise. “A man laying a hand on you doesn’t matter? Is that what I should do, then?”
“No,” I burst out.
He forced his steps to slow until he caged me with his body. “Will that make you have a go at me?”
“No,” I whimpered.
“Toss you around a few times?”
“Stop it.”
“Leave some broken bones?”
“No. No. No,” I screamed. He glared.
My throat burned. The act of breathing itself became an agony. “It doesn’t matter because I can’t leave him,” I said, defeated.
He was up on my face. “Can’t or won’t?”
I shoved him off me and stumbled away. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going back to him.”
“No. You’re fucking not. Never again.”
“Ugh…” I pushed my hands in my hair and clenched them into fists. Frustration rioted inside me. How was I going to get this man to understand? “You don’t get it.”
“Help me then. Tell me how a man got to fucking whack you around.”
“You can’t understand how it is,” I said softly.
“Oh, I do. Some man, married you, fucked you, beat you, and you want to go crawling back to him.” He cocked his head and gestured to me. “Right?”
I sighed.Pretty much.
“Now let me be crystal clear to you. You’re fucking mine, and I don’t allow anyone to disrespect what’s mine, and that includes you.” He forgot himself and barrelled towards me, pinning me to the wall. I didn’t even flinch anymore. “Do. You. Fucking. Understand?”
“I can’t,” I mumbled weakly.
