Chapter 4

Lana 

The room fell into deadly silence the moment Salvatore along with his men left.  

My knees collapsed to the ground, and I gazed around as the sense of my audacious reality slapped me in the face.  

Our house was jeopardized. Several household collections are on the floor, including the favorite radio my mother has been taking care of for the past few years. 

“Lana!” My mother cooed; she assisted me to my feet whilst her soft palms wiped my tears. 

“Are you hurt?” I inquired, checking which part of her body was bleeding. 

On the other hand, my father can't bear to look at me. I saw how devastated he was through his face, yet it didn't end there. 

“Is your decision to marry Salvatore Mancini final? Everyone knows what kind of person he is.” 

Mom’s worried voice made me nibble my lower lip. “He’s not your ordinary rich-rich man. He’s beyond dangerous, Lana. He will bring you to your death! Oh God…” 

I groaned. “You should've stopped your husband the moment he personally offered me.” I coldly muttered. 

I fucking felt betrayed. 

The whole room was wrapped in deafening silence; no one dared to speak or break it until my father gazed in my direction and met my gaze with a remorseful look. 

“I'm sorry Lana. I-I had no choice,” my father's words broke me. 

“So your initial solution is to sell me? Of all people in this world, why does it have to be you, my own father, to betray me?” My voice rises a little as tears well up in the corners of my eyes. 

Dad can't look straight into my eyes. “I shouldn't have put everything in gambling. All I want is to help both you and Christine. You've been working all your life just to… just to provide. It isn't your responsibility, Lana, but mine.” 

I gasped. “And do you think gambling could solve our problems? Jesus! I thought we're done arguing with your gambling addiction!” 

“Believe me, Lana, I meant no harm to our family.” My father held my arms, yet I retreated to convey how his actions infuriate me. 

“No harm,” I repeated with a tone of disbelief and despair. “Salvatore Mancini is no ordinary man. Unfortunately, my own blood shamelessly traded me because of his shitty decisions in life. Happy?” 

I nibbled my lower lip while my hand was on my waist. I'm so sick of this life where I need to make my day a night, and my night a day. 

My old man couldn't bear looking me in the eye; he knew I was right, and his stupidity put our lives in danger. 

“We can always run,” Dad affirmed. 

I scowled. “We’re dealing with Salvatore. Do you think he wouldn't track our traces?” 

His plan was a huge gamble. It's plain stupid. He's urging us to run when he was a complete bastard selling me to the most notorious men in the city.  

I felt nothing but remorse. Despair. Anger rushed to my face. 

Running away is the dumbest thing he could offer. No one escapes Salvatore Mancini; not even a strand of hair can pass through the city’s exit without him knowing. His connections are vast, and he's entitled “King” for a reason. As much as I want to agree with what he wants, I know Salvatore can still find us. 

The legend states he has a huge bruise on his face, an old fat guy, broken and rotting teeth, but it's totally the opposite. 

He's clean looking, a man with glory, ash gray eyes paired with his sharp jaw, a totally big ass biceps I could've held—wait. Are you seriously glorifying a mob, Lana? 

He almost wiped out your entire family! 

“It's not impossible Lana. I know someone who can help—” 

“Not today, Dad,” I enunciated with a tired voice, “after what you've done? Really?” 

I saw the flicker of guilt in his eyes. 

My mom interrupts. “What about you then? Will you really allow Salvatore to take you in as his bride?”

“I don't want to marry him either,” I said, my voice fainting whilst my eyes were on the floor. “Do I have any choice left?” 

The heavy responsibility I lift everyday isn't easy. My parents didn't stop bothering me from running away but it's me who keeps refusing. I made a deal with Salvatore, and if running away means abandoning our deal will result in our deaths, then I'd gladly obey. 

I love them. I have many plans for them. I may have six months to live, but I know my parents are scared as hell to die.

Nothing hurts more than reality slapping you, doesn't it? 

****

The next day, I saw no ordinary men around our house. The neighborhood was quiet, and all their windows including doors were closed, afraid these people might break in. 

Salvatore’s men, it is. 

I was about to leave the house early to avoid any delay when a man named Owen suddenly appeared right before me. 

“Lana, right?” His cold tone sent shivers down my spine. Just like his voice, he bears the same dark aura he brings wherever he goes. 

“Yes.” 

Owen stared at me momentarily like I was some subject to study. I tried reading his face, but I somehow failed until he voluntarily snapped back to reality. 

“Where are you going?” He inquired. 

“I have a job at night. At a club.” 

His eyebrows arched, I saw the hesitation in his eyes to let me pass through. “You know you can get killed if you dare to run away, don't you?” 

“I have a family to support, and I need to work. The contract between Salvatore and me hasn't been sealed. My situation is not the same as everyone else's and you know it better than anyone.” I muttered calmly, seeking no trouble. 

It took him a minute before he finally decided to let me pass through. Taking a step forward for a couple of seconds made me stop, then swerve around to give him my attention. 

“By the way, don't lurk around freely. You're trying to scare the entire neighborhood by being scattered outside pretending to care about my family. Everyone is scared,” I reprimanded, my eyes motioning towards the neighbors whose whole house is closed. 

Owen slid his one hand inside his pocket whilst ogling at me coolly. “Not my problem. I'm just following a strict order. Monitor the Licciardi residence until further instructions.” 

“I’m a woman of words, I'm not gonna run.” 

He smirked. “Good. My boss has been the seeker all these years; I doubt he'd let you slip off his sight.” His meaningful remark made my forehead crease but I didn’t pay much attention. 

My eyebrows cocker. “What am I, a mouse?” I irritatedly asserted, his logic is useless to me.

Instead of giving me an answer, he gave me a cocky smirk, which he usually does, and motioned his hands. “Off you go, Mrs. Mancini.” 

Why are people being weird these past few days? He speaks to me as if he'd known me for so long. Hello?! It's my first time living too.