6

TIFFANY WEST

The mansion was a sprawling estate with several wings, each of which I was told belonged to the Russo brothers— Lorenzo, Savio, Dario— and a guy named Ronan.

“I don't see guards anywhere?” I asked as I followed him down the familiar hallways. 

He threw me an amused quizzical stare. “Already planning your prison break?”

“I'm glad you realized this is a prison for me,”

He remained silent. “We don't need them. Even Dario is capable of defending himself, and with you, I'll assign someone to follow you around,”

“I could run you know,”

“Try it,” It was a dare and warning from him.

A cold shiver erupted at the base of my spine. “Would you feel good about yourself, catching a girl half your size?” 

“Yes,” There wasn't an ounce of doubt in his reply.

I crossed my arms as we entered the large bedroom I had woken up.

“We'll share the same room,

“So we'll sleep next to each other. We'll fuck like a happily married couple. And I'll cook and cater to you like a good little wife. Aren't you worried I might try to kill you while you're fast asleep in your own bed?”

“I'd like to see you try,”

The dark edge in his voice should have sent a shiver down my spine, but instead heat pricked at the bottom of my stomach, sparking to life.

“I'm not sharing the same with you,” I said and without even glancing at me, he walked to the right corner of the room, towards a door. He pulled it open and it led to a small room. I stepped inside and noticed my suitcase from the hotel on the bed.

It was smaller in comparison to his, but I'd rather sleep in there than on the same bed with him. I opened the door close to me, and it led to the bathroom. I moved to the next door, but it was locked.

Raising a brow, I turned to meet his cold blue eyes on me while he leaned against the adjoined door separating our rooms.

“There's only one door needed to leave this room, and that'll be mine,”

“Thanks for making me feel exactly like a prisoner here,” I murmured, before meeting his gaze again. “You do know none of these would stop me from trying to escape right?”

He didn't say anything, just pulled away from the wall about to leave when I called for his attention again.

“My phone?”

“In your bag,” He left, not sparing a glance at me. 

Immediately, I dug the phone from my bag, turning the device on before dialing Elena's number. It didn't get to the second ring before she answered.

“Tiff? Thank goodness, I've been calling you. How are you doing? Did he hurt you?”

“Not exactly, but he drugged me and brought me to his house,”

“I know. I saw him take you. But there was nothing I could do,”

I didn't doubt her for a second. Lorenzo was definitely not the type of person who'd listen to anyone, much less Elena. “I can't stay here Elena. I can't,”

There was a pause on her end. “Have you spoken to him, maybe there's —”

“There's no compromising from him. I need to leave here,”

“Whatever you need me to do I'll do it. But if you're able to escape, what next? Would you go back to New York? Knowing Lorenzo he'd just hunt you down and drag you back. The cops and the law won't be able to do a thing, he literally has them in his pocket and Dimitri isn't too thrilled about interfering in this matter,”

I knew Elena was right. Lorenzo would just find me and bring me back even if I escaped as long as I was still married to him. And I knew better than to accept help from the cops. I was basically on my own, but I couldn't not do anything. I couldn't remain trapped in a marriage I didn't want, especially to a Mafia don. 

*****

(Thirteen Years Ago)

(Lorenzo- 15 years old; Savio- 12 years old; Dario- 2 years old.)

LORENZO RUSSO

“You are a fucking waste of my blood. You and your brothers share your mother's tainted blood genes. You're all disappointments. Your stepbrother, Viktor, will become Don when I retire,” Father glowered at me. His lips curled in disgust.

“Being a capo is my birthright. I'm your legitimate son,” Ever since the night of my mother's death, and my father brought in Viktor, his illegitimate son from one of his whores, he treated me, Savio, and even Dario like dirt. I'd thought it was for our sake, to make us stronger for future tasks. I'd done everything to prove my worth to him.

“You and your brothers are disappointments, but don't you worry, I won't allow you to bring shame down on me,” Father's lips curled darkly, and without hesitation, he plunged the knife deep into my stomach. And all I felt was pain. Bone deep.

I thought I had died, but I hadn't. Hope flared through me as I tried to open my eyes.

“Shut up boy,” That was Harold's voice. He was his father's trusted soldier.

I struggled into a sitting position and peeled my eyes open. My ribs burned like hell. I felt pain in my lower stomach where my father had stabbed me. 

Harold turned to me. “You're stronger than I thought. Good for you,”

My vision was blurry. I was sitting in the back of the car. And next to me was Savio and Dario. They were both unconscious.

“What did you do to them?”

Harold met my gaze through the rearview mirror. “Relax boy. I gave them an antidote right after your father poisoned them. They are just sleeping,”

“Where?” I coughed, shifted on my seat, and then winced in pain. “Where are we?”

“Kansas City,” Harold steered the car into an empty parking lot. “Final stop,”

He got out then opened the back door, and pulled me out, before pushing out Savio and Dario. I gasped in pain, holding my ribs, and staggering closer to the car.

“What are you doing?”

He pulled open his wallet and handed me a twenty-dollar note and a coin. I took it confused, staring at him.

“Perhaps you all will survive. Perhaps you all won't but I refuse to add killing a bunch of children into my charges to hell,” He grasped my throat, forcing me to meet his cold gaze. “Your father thinks you boys are dead, you'd be smart to keep it that way. Make sure you and your brothers stay off our territory,”

Their territory? Once upon a time, it was my territory. My heritage. I didn't have anything else.

I glanced at my brothers’ unconscious figures. “Please. Don't leave us here,” We won't make it. Dario was too young for this.

He shook his head, slid into his car, and drove off.

I sank to my knees next to my brothers. My clothes were covered in blood. We'd been ousted from our own home. We had nothing but the dollar note and coin and a knife strapped to the holster on my calf.

I coughed and tasted blood. We had nothing. Perhaps we'd die anyway. I fought the tears that wanted permission past my eyes when something caught my attention. There was a huge graffiti on the wall of a building next to my right. A snarling wolf in front of swords.

My eyes widened in horror as I remembered, that Kansas City fell under the Bratva territory. It belonged to the Russians.

Fuck. Harold couldn't kill me and my brothers, but I was sure this place might. 

Two days later. Only two days and we ran out of money and hope. I tried to get money by pickpocketing the next day. I'd chosen the wrong guy and been beaten up. I didn't know how to survive on the streets but I couldn't stop trying otherwise my brothers and I would end up dead. And I still had a debt to pay to the man that we once called father. 

The next day I had stolen some burgers and fries from the old man who ran a food van. He was a Bratva and I had no fucking clue not until I was hunted down in the parking lot where I hid behind a van.

Suddenly a black haired guy with gray eyes appeared from nowhere. He was bruised, but not as badly as me, dressed in fight shorts. He stared at me.

“Stealing from the Bratva in this area means you got a death wish or are batshit crazy,” He glanced at the side of my stomach I was holding. “Probably both,” His voice had a rich Italian accent.

“I didn't know he was Bratva,” I said.

He shrugged and looked over his shoulder before turning back with a twisted smile. “What family?”

“Ndrangheta,” I spit out in rage. “Bit anymore I guess. My father wants me dead,” I paused, scanning him. He was covered in scars. He looked almost my age. “You?” 

“Famiglia,” His black eyes took in my injury. “We have to kill those fuckers after you, that's the only way out of this. I suppose you know how to fight,”

Who the hell was he? “This isn't my first rodeo,”

The black-haired guy pulled out his karambit blade just as soon as three Russians after me attacked us. He brutally killed two of the Russians with his blade, while I killed the third.

“We should leave, more Russian fuckers will be here soon,” He led me out of the parking lot.

“Why did you help me?”

There was dark amusement in his eyes. “Because I like to fight and kill. Because my family wants me dead too. But most importantly, because I have a feeling we'll make a good team,”

“Who are you?”

“Dimitri Castello,” There was that twisted smile again as he stretched out his hand. “You?”

“Lorenzo Russo,” I took his hand. “I also have a feeling we'll make a good team, but first we have to get my brothers,”

That day a new hope sparked in my heart, and I knew one day I'd go back to where it all started with my brothers. I'd send a bullet into the head of the man I had called father and reclaim my birthright.