Portia
I don't know for how long I lay passed out. I don't feel anything but dryness. I don't smell anything but musty dampness. I swallow hard to keep from retching. Cold is seeping into my body, stiffening my muscles, making them hurt.I hear the sound of cars moving in the distance.“Get the fuck up, you animal!”I cough as a familiar pain hits my right side. I curl away from it, turn my face the other way, but it comes again. Stronger. Harder. More cruel.I groan.“What are you? Sleeping beauty? If you don't get the hell up from there, I swear I'm going to kill you!”The rough baritone registers into my subconscious mind. Vincent. My brother. No surprise there. You'd think after years of getting whipped, slapped and battered by him, I would've gotten used to the feel of his boot by now. What can I say? I'm equally a disappointment in that regard.“Stop attacking her. She's not the one who put us here,” another voice says.Gregory. My other brother. The slightly, less insane one.“Besides, there's no way out even if she unlocks our cuffs,” he adds, his voice oddly resigned.“Don't tell me that. There's a fucking window over there,” Vincent snarls before digging his toe into my ribs. I hiss at the pain. “Up you worthless piece of shit. Don't think he's going to save you — ”“Leave her alone, you fool.”I groan, blinking my eyes open. I roll my head, and stop instantly, the pain sharp at my neck and back. I bring my hand up to my neck to touch the spot, feeling the bump as I tried to recollect.Clove pink and discarded daisies on the floor. Shattered shards of mirror crunching underfoot as I took flight. Or thought about running before he caught me by the arm.I glance at my hand. The ring is gone. He's taken it, and I couldn't be more thankful. My terrible wedding day. My forced wedding. It never happened. My prayers worked.I steel myself up to a seated position, rubbing my prickly nose. The musty dampness... it's not only in this room. I trace the smell to the veil somehow still on my head. It survived that man's cruelty.Mother's spirit is still strong and with me.The room tilts, and I shut my eyes in agony until the dizziness passes. When I open them again, a tall, dark shadow looms over me like a menace. I shrink as it leers down at me.Vincent.“A hundred years past, and look who's up. You little wretch.”I ignore him, looking past his bulk to see Gregory sitting across the room, his back against the far wall, his head tilted to the side solemnly. Nathan, our cousin lay with his head on his lap.“Been waiting for you for hours. Hurry up and untie me, and stop looking lost,” Vincent orders. He looks so different. Smells like a wreck. He's been beaten like never before, sporting a cut lip and numerous brusies lining his face and neck. He groans as he crouches down with his back to me.I observe that Nathan's hands are bound, and Gregory's must be as well. They're behind him. I'm the only one they left unbound, and I can't help but wonder why.Is it because I'm a lady?The white satin of my dress is ruined — smudged with dirt and blood. Amma's blood. The hem is black, and the skirt ripped apart. I reach up to pull the lace off my head, the sound of hairpins falling to the ground too delicate in this dungeon room. That's what this is. A cell in a dungeon room. The walls are four, stoned, and the fourth is a wall of bars. The window Vincent is proposing we escape from is about the size of a shoebox and too high to reach. That is where the light is coming from. A too-bright square in the otherwise dark, dreary room. It's dawn already.Fuck. I've been passed out since last night?I wonder where we are. I wonder what the hell is going on. Were we in the cellar of the compound I was imprisoned in the basement? Given these conditions, I very much prefer the basement now.“What the fuck are you waiting for?” Vincent barks, spittle landing on my face as he inches his neck forward. I'm sure that if his hands weren't tied, he would have dealt me a slap or two. Probably a dozen times. That's how violent he is with me.I look up to meet his dark, hateful eyes. His black hair is tousled, falling over his forehead.Without a word more, and dreading his anger, I reach to untie him, feeling a stab of self-loathing. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why do I keep being obedient when he keeps treating me like trash?I look over at Gregory. He's two years younger than Vincent, but wiser. He looks sad, and like I heard in his voice, resigned. Like there's no hope of living anymore in him. His face is also decorated — bruises along his jaw and dried blood by his nose, but his face isn't as bad as Vincent's.I bite my bottom lip before I ask. “Is Nathan okay?”Nathan is our cousin. He's much younger than all of us, and we treat him like a brother. He's still passed out, I believe.“Yeah. He's fine,” Gregory says, looking down at him. He exhales.“Not for long if you don't these fucking ropes off me,” Vincent threatens.I glance at the knot and snort internally, shifting my gaze back to Gregory.“What's going on?” I ask.“We were betrayed.”“By Fernando? Oh my goodness.”“No,” Gregory says, shaking his head. “He was used as a bait.”“Your chummy sweetheart is gone,” Vincent announces with a disgusted look. “He puts toddlers to shame. What a dumb coward.”“He's not my chummy sweetheart,” I say sharply. “I never liked him.”“Well, that makes two of us. Now move it.” He gestures to the knot.I'm about to oblige him, focus my attention on the damn knot and set him him free when I hear the sound of a metal door clanging open nearby. Light infiltrates the space just outside the cell. Heavy footsteps follow — brooding thuds and a man's voice booms. Then another one that I recognize. One that brings back so many terrible memories. That makes anger surge up my veins.“Fucking hell,” Vincent mutters, awkwardly shuffling to his feet as the men come into view.The sight send chills down my spine.Soldiers match in first, automatic weapons shining on their shoulders. They're six, each of them carrying a heavy-duty flashlight. They insert a key into the lock and open our cage just as my father's brother, our uncle, comes into view, grinning like a fucking devil.His eyes fall on me first, on my terrible position on the floor. It would make my skin crawl if I wasn't already terrified. His gaze flits between my brothers and my sleeping cousin. He's clean-shaven for once, hair neatly combed back, slick with gel. I can smell his cologne — strong, heady, annoying, all the way from here.“Throwing your own family to the dogs. Fucking imbecile,” Vincent bristles, spitting in his general direction. It fails to touch him though.My uncle looks at him, spreading his arms open as though he's inviting Vincent in for a hug. “Oh. We're now family, huh? Interesting.”“Sleazy old man.”More footsteps sound from outside. I look past my uncle as he steps aside. Three more soldiers, another man I know isn't a soldier judging by his expensive suit and casual slant to his stance enter.And then him. The boss. He's no longer masked but I know it's him. I can feel it, and I would recognize those eyes anywhere. I will never forget those eyes. That chilling blue, and the way they looked at me as though they knew me inside out.He stops just inside the cell, his big bulk taking up most of the entrance, sucking up more than his share of oxygen. Sucking mine as well.I forget how to breathe. Pressing a hand to my chest, I stare, transfixed, my heart racing.The man donning the expensive suit stuffs his hands into his pockets, and leans toward the big boss to whisper something to low for me to catch. It's a foreign language, alright. Italian. I'd have known that these weren't Esmeralda men from anywhere. He's wearing a red suit that looks just as expensive as the boss's but not as sophisticated. The boss is the one with my ring, I remember. He's also the one who somehow knocked me out.The boss scans the cell, taking in each of my brothers in turn, and I try my best not to shrink away when his gaze settles on me and stays there.Instinctively, I touch my neck as I take in his head of charcoal-black hair and the shadow of a beard on his chin. There's a scar running along his right cheek. It does nothing to take away from his features. Instead, it achieves the opposite result. He's dangerous, this man. Scary. Deadly. I'd know it even if I saw him out on a normal day in the normal world.But then, I was never a normal girl, and my life was far from what would be regarded as normal.And even though I don't know who he is, or why he's keeping us hostage, my brothers do. I see the fear in their eyes. Feel it in the anxiety wafting off them, their fear poignant in the air. Making me equally scared as well.We're going to die.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 feel
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