Portia
“Well, well, well. Who do we have here?” Vincent is the first to speak up, taking a step toward the man like the stupid loser he is.The boss's lips curls upward as though in amusement, and I watch him with bated breath as it takes the most minute tilt of his head to have a soldier charging at my brother, shoving him back to the floor.The man's eyes flit to me now as though he's curious, and my heart beat faster at how deeply those blue eyes twisted the knots in my belly. It feels like forever, the both of us, holding each other's gazes, neither wanting to look away first until he gives up, scanning Gregory and Nathan, who is still passed out. What the hell did they do to him?“And him? The boy.” he says suddenly. I don't blink. They're the first words I hear from him, and his voice, fuck, his voice is deep — almost like a rough growl but a low one. I start wondering how a growl can sound so quiet. It's without a doubt firm, and assets the control he possesses. I get the feeling that he's a man of few words. Straight to the point.Strict.Now why is that so fucking hot?A soldier moves toward Nathan now, boots clanking against the cemented floor, the sound bouncing off the solid walls. I wonder how vast the darkness in our little cell is. In the distance, I see glimpses of flashing lights. Windows just like the ones in our cell, I presume.“He's fine. Still breathing,” Gregory says thickly, a slight edge to his voice. The soldier ignores his words and bends to check for himself. He straightens and nods to the boss.“He still lives.”The boss looks different without his camo. Bigger. Deadlier. Slinkier. His hair is a little wet. I'm sure he took his precious time in the shower, which seems very uncharacteristic of his personality.He nods to the soldier, shifts his gaze to me once more, before turning to my uncle.“Let's get this over with.”Heathcliff, my uncle, smirks as he reaches behind him to where he must have hid his pistol all along.“What's happening? What are you going to do?” I cry out, a new fear overwhelming me even though it's not the first time I'm seeing a gun. I live in a world of violence. I live and breathe it ever since I was born. It's my name. My inheritance. My legacy. My life. I'm the Esmeralda princess at the heart of it. Or I was when my father was still alive. Ever since his death, I've been reduced to a pawn. A means through which my selfish brothers achieve their nefarious aims.Suddenly, boldly, I pull my legs back, readying to stand. To stand tall too. My feet is bare, I realize. I must have lost my shoes in transit. I don't care.Everyone pauses, their eyes on me.I only see one person. Him. The boss.He appears taller than before but that's because I'm still on the ground. He takes a step toward me, and I scramble backward in fright, my hand falling on the rusting metal frame of a cot. I pull myself together to stand. Willing the nausea to subside. Willing my fear to die.I realize I still have my mother's veil in one hand. Dry crusts of blood sticks to it just like my wedding dress. It's Amma's blood, no doubt. The memory of how his men killed her would be forever ingrained in my mind. It would haunt me for days to come, reminding me that the boss is not one to be messed with.And that's if I make it out of here alive today.That's if he shows me mercy.He stops when he's only a few feet away from me. He's taller now than he appeared in the basement. I'm short. I've lost the five inches my shoes gave to me. I have to crane my neck to look up at him and my gaze alternates between his deep blue, soullesss eyes to the scar running from his cheek to his mouth, his neck. There's another scar there. Concealed. The edge of one. It disappears beneath the collar of his shirt.The man has been through hell.No. He is hell.He's going to be my hell.“Don't be stupid, Portia. Kneel,” my uncle orders from behind him. “Do you know who the fuck he is? Show some respect, you little brat.”I ignore him, shifting my gaze from that almost concealed scar on the boss's neck back up to his eyes. Someone chuckles at my uncle's words. The other suited man, I presume.The boss's eyes skim my face, then slowly move down. I follow it, see how the blood has splattered over the ripped bodice of my dress, too. I don't know why I'm surprised by it.I reach to put my hand over it and cover myself, feeling self-conscious.“Do you know who I am?” he asks in that same quiet, yet chilling tone he used in telling his soldier to check up on Nathan.My gaze snaps back up to his, and I squint, confused. I'm pretty sure I haven't seen him before in my life. I don't know him at all. I study him critically, shift my gaze to the other suited one, his right-hand man or brother perhaps who stood with his hands in his pockets, but still couldn't place their faces. I shake my head, gulping.He leaned in till his breath fan the tip of my left ear, and whisper. “Scarfoni.”I gasp, stunned.It's a lie. It can't be. The last time I heard the Scarfoni name was ages ago. They're all dead. The whole family massacred. None was spared.I swallow, feeling the blood drain out of my face because I know what we did to him. I know what we did to them.He's back for revenge. I know this.He smiles at me like he's reading my thoughts. Knows what I'm thinking.“Scared now, are we? Say my name,” he commands.Scarfoni. That's their family name. When they'd all been alive, that name was associated with terror. My brothers attacked them after betraying our father.“Say it.”I swallow, lick my lips.He waits patiently, taking his sweet time. If he's survived the war and is this calm, then he's had a lot of time to learn patience. It's been ten years since then.Scarfoni. I do the math in my head. He must be in his late twenties, surely. I glance to the other one, noting their resemblance for the first time. The other suited one is younger, though, with a homely, yet deadly appearance.“Scarfoni,” I say at last, the name stinging my tongue. “Callahan Scarfoni.”I don't know how he manages to hear me as my voice is barely a whisper, but he gives me the faintest smile and a slight bow of his head in acknowledgement.“Portia Von Esmeralda.” His gaze sweeps over my neck, over the swell of my breasts above the ruined gown. I see the lust flash in his eyes for just one second, then it's gone. “Grown up and pretty. Shame you have to die.”My mouth instantly goes dry. I'm speechless as he closes his hand gently over my shoulder, his grip slightly less painful than he was earlier when he forces me to my knees.He leans down, brushes his lips against my ear.I'm caught off-guard by the tickle of the scruff on his jaw.“Do as I tell you. Don't. Fucking. Look,” he warns, and I know what's coming. What's about to happen.I know I'll disobey him. I know I'll look.He strides away from me and takes his place a few meters away, close to his brother. I sink to the ground again, feeling numb. He positions himself before my brothers as Heathcliff orders that Gregory should be made to kneel beside Vincent.I can see sense their fear from here. See how when Callahan crouches down in front of Vincent, a dark patch blooms on the insides of Vincent's trousers. My brother pisses himself. My all powerful, ruthless, no-nonsense brother pisses himself.I suppress the urge to laugh. No, to really roll myself on the floor, cackle till my guts hurt, but now's not the time.We're about to die.Callahan doesn't miss the expanding dark spot. If he's enjoying this, he doesn't show it. His face is as straight as a ruler.In my periphery, I see Nathan just beginning to stir awake. Will they kill him too? He's just a kid. He's innocent.“Where is Fernando?” Callahan asks.“How the fuck should I know that? The idiot is the reason why we're all here. He betrayed us. He's the one who plotted — ”“I didn't ask for the details. Where is he? Do you know where he's run off to?”“Fuck no. What am I? His bodyguard? I did — ”“Then you are of no use to me,” Callahan says and straightens, a ting of finality in his gestures. He steps back and whistles. Just a whistle. Heathcliff points the gun in between Vincent's eyes and pulls the trigger. It's so fast, no hesitation, no tiem for Vincent to plead for this life. No time for me to even process, though I knew what was coming.The sound is ear-splitting, reverberating off the walls. I press the heel of my palms to my ears, groaning. Why don't they use a silencer for crying out loud? Blood and pieces of my brother's brain splatter across the wall, and my face.I wince, and wipe away it away. I don't scream. And I don't look away. I watch instead. Watch as Vincent's body twitches, still kneeling as if he's not realizing he's dead, before finally dropping to the floor with a thud.PortiaGregory is looking at Vincent motionless on the floor, half of Vincent's head missing. He's next. Heknows it. I know it. And he begins to whimper as Callahan takes hold of his hair and forces him to look him in the eyes, while my uncle prepares the next shot."Where is he?" Callahan asks. Same question.Gregory drags his gaze from Vincent. He's shaking. My two brothers, both cowards when they're outgunned and outsmarted.I only wish it lasted longer. They deserve to suffer. Doesn't he know that? Doesn't he want that?"Where. Is. Fernando?" Callahan asks again. It'll be the last time he asks. I know it.Gregory glances sideways to Vincent momentarily before shifting his gaze back to Callahan, then to my uncle. He's trembling now. He used to laugh at me when I trembled."Please," he begs.Callahan releases him with a disgusted expression on his face and steps back. I guess he doesn't want to get his nice suit dirty. That alone is the signal my uncle needs to pull the trigger aga
CallahanI've always hated Heathcliff Esmeralda. He always struck me as a lost cause. A petty, opportunistic piece of shit.Never trust your man who turned on his own family.The girl is arguing something, but I don't stop to listen. I don't care. They'll figure it out. She's safe, for now. So is the kid.“Are you going soft, Brother?" Antonio asks me.I don't dignify the question with a response. He knows better. Or he should, at least.I strip off my jacket, toss it aside when I walk into the main part of the house. I've only been back a few times since my return from the dead. Couldn't take a chance on being seen. Not before I interrupted that wedding.Dust cloths are still strewn over most of the furniture and I stop to glance at the pieces that have been uncovered. At the paintings of my family. Another of my ancestors.The ancestors are easier to look at. I didn't know them. They don't mean much to me. But I move to the one of my mother. My father commissioned it when they got e
Callahan"Take off your dress," I tell her. Her eyes narrow and she cocks her head to the side. She's petulant.A giant-sized pain in the ass.But a nagging voice tells me there's more than those things. It'd be simple if she were just those things. And I know exactly what it is. She's loyal. A trait not easily come by in my line of work. She humiliated herself, threw herself at my feet to save her brother.It's too bad she's loyal to the wrong side."Are you hard of hearing?" I ask. She just glares.I gesture to the gown. “It's dirty. You're covered in blood and brains. Not to mention it's fucking ugly. Idon't want you to dirty my things."Her eyebrows rise on her forehead. “You don't want me to dirty your things?”"Correct.""I want my veil. Your goon wouldn't let me get my veil before he dragged me out of there."I snort at that, take off my shoes and socks, undo my belt and pants. I turn and walk toward the bathroom, stopping at the door to look back at her momentarily."I though
PortiaI stand at the wall and watch the door close. I don't breathe until it does. I don't move until his footsteps have receded and a full minute has passed.Punish her cousin.Shit.He could have threatened to throw me back into the cell. Could have threatened me bodily harm. But he's too clever for that. He knows I'll obey if he threatens Nathan.Face down, ass up.I can't even begin to think about that part because, what the hell just happened?And the comment about no one coming in. Who would come in? My uncle? I'm an enemy to every single person in this house. I guess he wants to be sure I'm in one piece when he gets back to do what he thinks he's going to do.I shake my head, try to clear that thought and the ones that follow. Because I'm not stupid. He doesn't need my permission to do anything.I look down at myself, at the torn, ruined dress, then shift my gaze around the room. I thought maybe we were at Fernando's compound where he'd been keeping me the days leading up to t
Portia While I'm here I search through the drawers to see if there's anything I can use as a weapon, if I need to.I chuckle to myself at the thought.If I need to.I will need to. He's told me what he plans to do. Is that really the only reason my cousin and I are alive?And is Nathan truly alive? Or did he just say that to appease me? To ensure I wouldn't fight too hard when he lays his hands on me?I wish I could trust his words that Nathan was really okay. But you don't trust a man scarred and blinded by revenge.You don't.No. I can't think about that. Nathan is alive. I have to believe that. I return to the bathroom and pull the towel off my head. Rummaging through his drawers, I find a brush. I meet my reflection and peer closer, shifting my gaze to the right to see the bruise high on my cheekbone where the skin is cut.Probably happened on the floor of the cell. I'm surprised I'm not more badly hurt although my head aches. Setting the brush down, I open the medicine cabinet a
CallahanI can't help but wonder if Portia felt anything at all, watching her brothers executed. She barely flinched. What could they have done to her to make her hate them so much? They're her brothers for crying out loud. Her own flesh and blood.I'm sitting in the boardroom along with Antonio, two of the family attorneys, my uncle and two representatives from the charity to which I've made a sizeable donation. Diamente didn't accompany me to this meeting. This is the legitimate side of things. He's in charge of the other side.One of the women is ogling me from across the table and I'm trying to avoid having to look at her. I'm only half-listening as I turn the diamond link on my cuff around and around, bored out of my skull.“Callahan," Uncle David starts. "Are you even listening?" He smiles to the women and gestures for me to get my head out of my ass and pay attention. But I can't be fucking bothered."No, not really, Uncle." I get to my feet as he clears his throat, looking ann
CallahanCerberus, my German Shepherd, enthusiastically greets me when enter the house. I smile, crouching down to pet him. He's been with me for two years. A loyal companion.Antonio is spending the night in town. I can't blame him. I'm not a lot of fun these days and now that we're back in the land of the living, he's making up for lost time.Servants have cleaned more of the house in my absence. More dust cloths removed, almost the whole of the downstairs looking lived-in now.The house is huge. Well, it's a compound, a safe place. It should have been, at least, and it will be again now that I'm back. For all intents and purposes, the island is only accessible by sea or air. Guards stationed in a watchtower. The building itself is six centuries old. A castle for a nobleman whose name I can't remember.Another damn thing I can't remember.My family purchased the house more than five-hundred years ago when the owner's family fell out of favor with the ruling party at the time. We've
Portia"Jesus!" I'm startled at the look of the very large and very excited German Shepherd that comes through the door.Callahan turns to look at me with a grin on his face-asshole which is gone the instant the giant hound sniffs me then sets his head on my lap, tail wagging like we're old friends.I admit, this is a scary looking dog but they're usually the sweetest. It's the little fuckers you have to watch for. I still remember a friend's yappy poodle chasing me around the dining room table on my first visit to her house when I was barely five."Well, hi there. What's your name, sweetie?" I ask him in a voice that makes Callahan roll his eyes as I lean down to cuddle the dog.Callahan mutters something under his breath. I don't hear what it is, but he sounds annoyed. Good."Cerberus. Here." He points beside him, but Callahan nuzzles his nose into my hair behind my ear. "Christ," he mutters and tugs the dog away. “Sit.""Hey!"The dog whines but sits, just barely, tail still waggin