Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I jolted awake, gasping for air, my body slick with sweat, heart racing from a dream that had begun as a delightful fantasy of a handsome stranger swooping in to steal my heart, only to be shattered when Ace appeared and shot him in the head, turning my moment of bliss into a chilling nightmare.

Curled up on the cold floor of a public restroom, I felt completely trapped, with nowhere else to turn. The shelter just a few blocks away was full, and even if it opened its doors, the thought of staying there filled me with dread, knowing a dangerous man was likely out there searching for me.

I glanced at my watch and saw it was two minutes to four-definitely time to wake up. Each morning, except on Saturdays and Sundays, I needed to rise early to catch the bus and make it to the diner for my 6 a.m. shift, which ended at 3 p.m. After that, I had to walk ten minutes to reach the community college in time for class.

As a child, I often told my papa how eagerly I anticipated growing up, and he would gently remind me, "You should enjoy your childhood while it lasts, Princessa." It was only a couple of years ago that I truly understood the depth of his words and the fleeting nature of those carefree days.

Now, I fully grasp the struggles one faces, especially in the absence of family and friends. As I got up from the cold concrete floor, I rubbed my side, feeling the ache from my rough night of sleep; I had spread my sweater beneath me and used my bag to cushion my head, but it offered little comfort against the harsh reality of my situation.

I stole a glance in the mirror, wincing at how disheveled I appeared-like a homeless person trapped in a nightmare; my shoulder-length hair was a tangled, greasy mess, and my clothes were in desperate need of a wash. But a glimmer of hope appeared with the knowledge that there was a shower in this public lavatory, and I silently vowed to hug the person who had the foresight to install it, grateful for a chance to reclaim a sliver of my dignity.

Last night, I managed to pick up a few essentials from the store: some new underwear, a t-shirt dress, a small bottle of shampoo and conditioner, and a toothbrush with toothpaste. With my limited budget, I planned to use the shampoo for my shower since I couldn't afford soap, but I was grateful for what I had. I also bought some water, fruits, and a few snacks, knowing I hadn't eaten a proper meal in days; this would have to be enough to sustain me for now, and I felt a twinge of relief at having something, even if it was far from ideal.

Despite having left some belongings back at the warehouse, going back for them wasn't an option, so I took a deep breath and stripped off my dirty clothes, stepping into the shower. The water was chilly at first, but it quickly became a soothing escape; I lingered for about twenty minutes, washing my hair and scrubbing my body vigorously, knowing that I might not have another chance to do this for a while as I continued my unpredictable journey.

Once I finished my shower, I quickly dried off and slipped into my fresh underwear before pulling the uniform over my head, feeling the familiar fabric against my skin. I then put on my old black Converse, their well-worn soles a reminder of all the miles they had carried me; with each step, I felt a mix of readiness and uncertainty about the day ahead.

As I stared at my reflection, I marveled at how a simple shower could transform me; the conditioner had worked wonders, leaving my hair soft and bouncy in damp curls. However, knowing the day ahead could be hectic, I added a bit more conditioner and worked it through, carefully gathering my hair into a playful curly ponytail perched atop my head, striking the right balance between looking neat and showcasing my natural texture. It felt like a small confidence booster.

I hadn't even stepped fully into the diner when Alissa stormed over to me. She was one of the servers here, and like everyone else, she couldn't stand me.

"Joeniya, table five wants to order," she snapped, flinging an apron at my face before hurrying away. With a heavy sigh, I made my way to the table, silently praying for my shift to be over, even though it had just begun.

"Hello! What can I get for you this morning?" I began, but instead of focusing on the customer, my hands fumbled through the pockets of my apron searching for a notepad while I tied the red plaid strings around my waist.

The apron complemented the red and white uniform I was forced to wear, which could have been adorable if I actually liked dresses. To top it off, the diner's logo proudly adorned the front, a constant reminder of where I worked and the challenges that came with it.

"You," the voice of the man I had come to recognize cut through the air, causing me to choke. It took a moment to regain my composure, and I felt the eyes of the other customers boring into me.

Ignoring their stares, I locked eyes with the Italian man before me. The Captain must have informed him of my workplace; he had asked me just yesterday if I had more tasks to complete for his wife. How could I have been so naive? This was a public space, and while he clearly had a penchant for abandoned warehouses where vulnerable girls like me resided, I clung to the hope that he wouldn't dare act out here.

"Please don't hurt me," I stammered, my words tumbling over one another as if they were lost in a chaotic rush, the first word faltering and leaving a gap for the subsequent ones to collide recklessly.

I decided to attribute my flustered speech to the fear surging within me like a wildfire, rather than my inadequate communication skills.

The man in front of me wore a smirk, clearly finding my embarrassment entertaining. "Why don't you have a seat with me, Bonita?" he suggested, his tone dripping with a disconcerting blend of charm and menace, leaving me torn between my instincts to flee and the grim reality of my situation.

"No," I blurted out, the word escaping before I could temper my fear.

He smirked, leaning in closer, his presence both suffocating and oddly magnetic. "Pardon me. You should know, I will not bite-at least not yet." The teasing edge to his voice sent a jolt of anxiety through me, and I fought to keep a steady breath, desperate to avoid a panic attack.

"I'm on my shift. Now can you please just order?" I managed, hoping that a hint of authority would help reestablish some control in this unsettling encounter.

"Who's going to stop you from sitting with me?" he challenged, his gaze locking onto a man observing us from across the room, a look of unease crossing his face. "Don't you know I'm everyone's nightmare?" His voice dripped with an unsettling confidence, each word laced with a sinister charm that seemed to revel in the fear he inspired.

I couldn't fathom why he declared himself everyone's nightmare; did people truly know he was the one who took down the Mafia, or was there more to his menacing reputation? The tension was palpable, and I found myself torn, caught in a perilous dilemma.

If I chose to sit next to him willingly, I could face severe repercussions from those who would not approve, but refusing him could lead to an equally deadly outcome-his cold intent splintering into violence. My heart raced as I weighed the risks of defiance against the potential wrath of someone who seemed all too capable of pulling the trigger without a second thought.

"Okay, Angel, since you seem to worry too much, I'll make it easy for you and order," he said smoothly, his tone laced with an unsettling assurance. "Who knows what I'd do if any of these incompetent imbeciles give you a hard time." As he spoke, his gaze shifted to a striking guy beside him, one I hadn't noticed before, who returned a knowing look that sent a shiver down my spine. This new presence was equally captivating, with green eyes that sparkled with mischief and longer black hair that framed his sharp features, making it clear that danger ran deep within this duo. Just great, now there were two of them.

After Ace-a name that sent a shiver down my spine-placed orders for both him and what I assumed was his brother, I took off like my ass was on fire. My mind raced with the absurdity of my situation, questioning what I had possibly done to deserve this cosmic punishment. The weight of their presence lingered behind me as I hurried away, thoughts swirling with a mix of confusion and dread, wondering how I had stumbled into the crosshairs of such dangerous allure.

"That was fast," Ace remarks with a smirk as I set both breakfast orders on the table, my heart racing with anxiety.

"If you want nothing else, then I'll be going," I reply, desperate to escape the tension brewing between us.

"No, wait," he says, gripping my wrist with great strength and pulling me into the booth beside him.

The lack of space between us constricted my breathing, and my heartbeat raced like a wild horse galloping with no reins. Suddenly, I found myself at a loss for words, lost in his intense gaze and the magnetic pull of his presence. Yet, amidst the dread that should have overwhelmed me, his touch ignited a warm, tingling sensation deep inside-a tantalizing contradiction, given that he was a confessed cold-blooded murderer, leaving me to grapple with the bizarre mix of fear and attraction that churned within me.

Regaining my senses, I instinctively tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip and commanded, "Stay." To my dismay, I found myself obeying, like a good little doggy-no, a good girl-as if under some spell. His brother chuckled at the scene, prompting me to shoot a glare in his direction, but he was too engrossed in his breakfast to notice my indignation.

"I have a proposition for you-there's something special about you. If there wasn't, you'd be dead by now," he said, draping his arm around my shoulders, drawing me nearer with an unsettling intimacy. "I'm no one special," I replied, my voice steady but laced with the truth, immediately regretting my words; the realization that I might be fueling his violent whims sunk in.

He caressed my cheek gently, forcing me to lock eyes with his steely grey gaze, which seemed to pierce through my very soul. "Sweetheart, you are special. Let no one tell you differently," he murmured, his tone simultaneously soothing and menacing. I felt my heart race as he continued, "Now, are you going to listen to me?" The weight of his words hung in the air, and I realized that complying might be my only chance for survival, even as my instincts screamed to resist him.