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Chapter 13

Author: Celice Wylder
last update Last Updated: 2025-03-12 10:27:34

Madeleine

I fell asleep again after the doctor’s visit. His news was rather grim. Most of my injuries from the beating I took yesterday would heal just fine, but the poison is another story. He suspects that I might have permanent nerve damage.

He wants me to undergo further testing, but after I explained to him that I couldn’t pay for such expensive tests, he simply gave me an injection for the pain and left.

Now I’m wide awake and more wired than a bunny on meth. I am restless, not sure what to do with myself.

The doctor left a bottle of painkillers for me to take, but I haven’t needed it. He did say it’s only for the nerve pain, and since I don’t know what that’s supposed to feel like, I just left it.

He confirmed my own assertion that the best cure for the body aches after the beating is to move around as much as possible but to, in his words, “not overdo it, unless you want to end up in the hospital.”

After a few hours of dawdling in the bedroom with nothing much to do apart fro
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    MadeleineHe holds me like I’m a piece of broken porcelain he has to glue back together. Like I’ll come apart if he lets me go.But I’ve already come undone. In that laundry room this morning while I watched the horrors of last night flash before my eyes. Last night - sometime between that moment when Rafael gave me the gun, and when I dropped it in the lake with the rest of the weapons, standing shoulder to shoulder with some of the deadliest, most violent people on the planet.And yet... I think it happened even sooner than that. Perhaps it began when my father handed me a deck of cards for the first time and showed me how to shuffle it.I came to Rafael broken. He met me after I was already in pieces, held together with invisible tape and glue until somebody dropped me.And it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Rafael. Not him.It was them. When they died. My parents. They let go as they always did, and I shattered to pieces.Again.And everytime that happened, it became harder and harder to p

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    RafaelI step out onto the narrow terrace of the strip club, one hand curled around the burner phone, the other around my Zippo. I only smoke when I’m stressed, and I haven’t been this stressed in months.I light the cigarette and lean on the railing, looking out over the city stretches into the horizon - glass towers and concrete for miles around. It smells of despair and broken dreams while everyone who lives here pretends to be something they’re not. Just like me.I dial the number manually. No names saved. No records.It rings once. Twice. Then, “Whose this?” Salvatore answers. No hello. No pleasantries. Just those two simple words - like a curse or a challenge.“Andoletti.”“Ah.” He doesn’t sound surprised. Salvatore’s accent is thick, but his English is perfect. “Yes. I have been waiting for your call.”“You have a problem,” I say.Silence. He knows already, he’s just waiting for me to confirm it.“Enzo,” I go on. “He gave the signal to Sforza and Romano. They hit my house. At

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    MadeleineI wake up when I hear a toilet flush.The room is dark, the heave shades blocking out the sun, but I can see well enough.I have no idea what time it is, but I don’t think we slept that long. I don’t feel rested. Still, I have to get up - Betsy will be awake by now, and she’s in a strange place. She'll be scared and confused.A door clicks open, and Rafael appears like a phantom next to the dresser. He’s in one of his immaculate suits, and it does all sorts of crazy things to my hormones. “It’s still early,” he says in a low, measured tone. “Go back to sleep.”The man from last night, the one who almost lost control and kissed me with so much unbridled passion, is gone. In his place is this man. Cool. Calm. And way too fucking collected.I wonder if he has an on-off switch.“Betsy’s probably looking for me,” I say.“I checked on her,” he informs me and puts on his watch. “She’s still asleep. I’m sure she’ll scream you awake when she needs you.”Even that is almost unbearably

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    MadeleineI can’t breathe. Not properly. Not with Rafael’s mouth on mine and his hands gripping my waist like he’s afraid I’ll vanish.I don’t want to disappear.I want more of this. More of him.It has always been him. From the moment he walked into that church, until this day, it’s been him.I’ve dreamed of it. A day when he’d hold me. Kiss me. Take me to his bed.It's almost surreal. I didn't think it would actually happen. Not really. Not even after he gave me the ring.But here we are.And it’s so much better than I ever could have imagined.The way he kisses me - it’s not sweet or soft. It’s hunger. Sharp, desperate, and unfiltered. He tastes like painkillers and power, and something in me unravels, turns me inside out. I press closer, rising on my toes to meet him, opening my mouth when his tongue demands it. My body heats instantly, aching in places I’ve only ever imagined being touched.Places I’ve never even touched myself.I want him to touch me like that.His hands slide

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