Page 20 of Arianna

Deep down, I know that a part of me — the part of me that died with the girl I once was — will always bleed for the two girls she left behind. The two stars no longer shine in her sky.

When I was hauled out of the Nicolasi mansion, four black SUVs waited for me. The men that took me shoved me inside one of the vans and now trail behind.

I was right.

The men that took me are not made men.

They are not like my father or his men.

They all wear black suits and earpieces, and their gun holsters are visible. They scream security not thugs in suits.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I realize I will not end up in the hands of a made man. Thank fuck for small favors. I despised them with every fiber of my being.

Sheep in wolf clothing with a preconceived notion that women were born to serve them and bare their monsters.

I refuse to be one of those women.

I refuse to be silenced.

I refuse to be anyone but myself.

Even though I might not end up in the hands of a crime lord, that doesn’t erase the fact that some sick bastard bought me. A good man or a decent man wouldn’t have to stand as low as to purchase another human being.

There is no doubt in my mind that my father made a deal with my life. This means that the war I’ve been fighting all my life is not over.

The war for my freedom.

It just started, and it might never end.

Therefore, I sit back, cross my legs, and hold my head up high, looking like the very queen I know I am. I don’t need a title, nor do I need a kingdom.

I am who I am.

That is all I need.

I am all I will ever need.

I sit still and wait for what comes next.

The mouth-breather who accepted my father’s offer will regret ever thinking he could strip me of my freedom.

Oh, yes.

I was so lost in my head that I didn’t realize the van had stopped and the driver was pulling the door open for me. I have half a mind to stay in the car, but I know it will only be worse for me if I refuse.

These are strangers, and I don’t have a clue as to what their intentions are.

A freakishly tall man with broad shoulders underneath a black suit offers me his hand to help me out of the car, but I ignore him and hop off the van without his assistance. I might be their prisoner, but I will refuse their help at every turn.

The moment I am outside the car, the night air hits my face like a hard slap to my new reality. It is cold this time of year, yet it does nothing to me.

I always feel cold, even in the heat of summer.

A sudden chill runs down the back of my head, spreading all over my body as a sixth sense. Disturbed by the unusual sensation, I steal my spine and hold my head high as at least five men guide me through a plane track in the middle of the night, barricading me.

It is odd how I feel no fear in a situation that any normal girl my age would be terrified of. I was taken from my family to end up God-knows-where. Any sane person would be trembling in fear and pleading for their life.

Not me.

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