Page 11 of Raphael (Belles & Mobsters 5)

Anya whimpered, tears staining her face. I instantly stilled, my blood freezing in my veins.

Anya’s lip was split and swollen, blood trickled down her chin. Her one eye was bruised. And my heart fucking hurt unlike ever before. It was like that fucking squeaky bed all over again.

A sob escaped her lips and he growled at her to shut up before he went back to his business. Her whimpers quieted, her gaze emptied, and I swore she died right in front of me. I watched life leave her right there in front of my eyes as he kept thrusting into her.

Bile rose in my throat. I didn’t want to see, yet I couldn’t look away. He was raping her.

Please, please God, I prayed in my mind.I’ll do anything. Give you anything. Please just end this.

I tasted vomit on my tongue. It tasted of alcohol, tears, and a cursed fate that would put this on her. Sickness and disgust blasted me. The old man kept thrusting as he held her down in front of him. His legs trapped her while his one hand held her wrists together. He kept going, his grunts filling the air and mixing with all of our whimpers.

Aurora came from behind me and wrapped her arms around me, her head buried in my back.

“Don’t look, Sail,” she whispered. “It will leave a mark. Damage your soul.”

Too late.I was already damaged from the first time she saved me. Hate and rage slithered through my blood, growing until it suffocated me. I hated him. I hated Father. I hated them all.

Anya stopped fighting. He defeated her. He finally broke her, and I was witnessing it all. Her agony was heart-wrenching. My hand trembled and my fingers flexed imagining a knife in my hand. So I could stab it into this man’s heart. So I could stab my own father.

Another soft whimper slipped when he ordered her to shut up again. He thrust harder, deeper. He kept going, while every fiber of my being wanted to explode.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to rage. I wanted to go ballistic. And I was ready, until Anya’s eyes met mine.

The order was clear in her eyes. Remain invisible.

ChapterSix

SAILOR

Present

“Scream.”

I learned to hate that voice. My father’s.

“Cry for me, my little whore.” The cold, cruel whisper invaded my dream. The familiar man’s voice.

A squeaking bed. Fingers curled over the edge of the bed, gripping it hard. Ugly fingers. Wrinkled fingers. One of those fingers held the ring with the McHale family crest.

A scream bubbled in my throat, but Anya said to be quiet.

So I bit into my hand. Hard. I felt the pain while the noises made my stomach churn. I hated that fucking bed. Hot, salty tears dripped down my chin.

“Scream, damn it.”

The words bellowed through the blackness that threatened to swallow me whole.

I woke up with a start, the sheets stuck to my sweaty skin and my breathing labored. The nightlight threw shadows over the walls, as dark and menacing as the ghosts that threatened my dreams. Yet, I couldn’t handle sleeping in the dark.

I feared it. I was terrified of it.

It was the reason I often found myself in Anya’s room. I feared the dark. She was used to it. Preferred it even. I always cried, she barely ever did. I only found sleep when I could hear her breathing. When we were both together, in the same room.

Because I was scared of the monster that lurked in the dark. The one that hurt Anya.

With a tremor in my fingers, I shoved a sweat-damp lock of hair out of my face. The tremor that started in my fingers spread beneath my skin, buzzing stronger than ever before.

Maybe I sensed that a storm was coming. It had been brewing ever since Aurora told me about running into Raphael Santos. Or maybe it had started with my investigation into the Tijuana Cartel and the women they trafficked to the Port of Washington.

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