CHAPTER 2: Rosalia.

With all the strength I could muster, I raised my tiny knee and rammed it straight into his gut. He gasped a breathless sound and staggered backward a few steps.

But I wasn’t fast enough. There were too many of them. Before I could move again, I was slammed back against the stone that my spine jarred and my lungs emptied. I dropped to a crouch, clutching my ribs. From the corner of my eye, I saw the second one approaching. My fingers curled around my phone, and just as he reached for me, I rose with all the rage inside me and cracked it against his nose.

“Little bitch!” he spat, reeling back with a howl, blood spurting down his lips.

They pulled me back as he rose up, laughing and flashing bloodied teeth. “What a tough –”

Pow!

The sound sliced through the night air like a whip, cutting him mid-sentence.

His eyes widened and his mouth fell parted. For the first time since he ambushed me, I saw something human flicker behind his irises… fear. No, confusion. It felt like he didn’t understand how his sentence had been interrupted by the searing pain blooming in his gut.

I followed his gaze and saw the wet shadow spreading across his stomach, as it thickened and darkened the white of his suit, soaking through until his jacket looked painted in dark crimson. 

A sudden shriek exploded from my chest, and his grip on my wrist went completely loose. I pulled away and stumbled back, my heel caught the edge of a stone tile, and I nearly hit the ground.

“Cazzo!” one of the other men shouted behind him.

“She was supposed to be alone!” the other snapped, and I heard them both moving fast to pull something from their coats.

I didn’t look at them. I couldn’t look away from the man on the ground. Although, I continued backing up and breathing too fast that my hands were trembling so violently I couldn’t tell if I was holding my dress or if it was holding me. 

Two quick gun shots seared through my consciousness. They were louder than the first that it felt like they were fired right next to my ear.

I stifled my scream, my arms wrapped around my stomach. My eyes squeezed shut before I forced them eyes open to meet all three of them were on the ground.

My chest kept rising but no air was staying in as tears poured from my eyes, blurring my vision. My ears were ringing and my throat burned. I couldn’t feel my legs and my whole body was shaking so hard it felt like my bones were rattling underneath my skin.

The smell… my God, the smell of blood harassed my nose that it made bile rise from my belly to my throat.

I pressed my hand to my mouth and turned sideways, choking back a sob that broke halfway. My knees folded as I finally dropped completely now, and my palms pressed to the stone that were warm with blood.

I had never seen someone being killed or dead before, now two bodies were in front of me, and the man who did it hadn’t even spoken.

When my vision cleared and the shocked washed over me, I saw him approached me, and my anxiety rose back to the peak where it started from.

The air changed in a way I didn’t know how else to describe it, even the crickets stopped and the breeze pulled back, only left to hear was the rhythm of his footsteps and the sound of my own breathing speeding up.

He was closer than I ever expected I’d see him, and I recognized him instantly. He didn’t need to say a word. Just like the rumors said, there was nothing soft about him, with piercing green eyes like someone had dragged their thumb under them and pressed hard. He stood tall and untouchable and terrifyingly calm.

Silver peppered at his temples as if he'd been drawn in with a blade. His hair was slicked back with an effortless wave, and his jaw was locked in a square line with a shadow of stubble crawling up the side of his jaw like ivy. An emerald pipe hung lazily from the corner of his mouth, the smoke curling along the edges of his cheekbone as he exhaled. The scent wasn’t sweet like Dominic’s cigarettes. This was aged, bitter. Masculine like old-world tobacco soaked in spice that Dom had told me the Dons smoked.

The man who had held me earlier was still moving. He’d rolled slightly to one side. I heard him groan again, lowly and pained that I could feel it in my veins.

I was still sitting on the ground, legs bent sideways under my dress, one hand on the stone tiles and the other still clutched around my own stomach. I couldn’t stop shaking. I didn’t even realize I was crying until the tears blurred my sight again.

He stopped right in front of me. Now he was visible under my gaze. His coat, the wrinkles around his mouth, the way the veins in his wrist rose when he lifted his arm. I found it difficult to tear my eyes away from him.  

He suddenly moved his wrist and powwww!

The bullet left the gun and into the groaning man's head. Blood splattered onto the stone tiles and his body jerked once, then went still.

“You don’t fuck with De Laurentiis,” he muttered, cracking his neck like he’d just woken from a nap.

My hand flew up to cover my mouth, but the sob escaped anyway. My entire body shook violently now, full-bodied tremors that rippled through my arms, my spine, down to my stomach. 

~~~~~~~~~

I don’t know how long it lasted. Minutes. Hours. Maybe forever. It didn’t matter. My hands were shaking too hard to push myself up. My throat was raw from crying that I didn’t make a sound anymore.

There were no more tears left.

He’d said not to speak or move. That if I told anyone he’d come back, and I wouldn’t even see him next time. He told me I got lucky. That sometimes, punishment came slow, and next time, if there was one, it wouldn’t be like this.

And I knew he wasn't bluffing. I've heard what he could do and I witness it with my very own eyes.

My God, I was helpless.

“You’re alive,” he breathe into my ear before forcing his way with me. “So be smart. Stay that way.”

That was the last thing I remembered hearing before he disappeared into the night.

I thought he was my savior. He did save me but not from himself.

I didn’t scream or run. I stayed because I knew what kind of world this was. I’d grown up hearing stories and warnings. This was what happened when girls like me got caught in the cracks between men like them. I wasn’t a Capo’s daughter or even anyone’s heir. I was a name on a list, a promise that got passed down, and a nobody that could be used to balance peace between empires.

And now… this was what happened to commoners in a world of kings and killers. What do you say when you learn your worst nightmare wears the face of a man the world bows to?

I thought of Dom.

I’d prayed he’d come. I waited. I told myself he’d find me, that maybe he knew something was wrong and he'd miraculously show up, furious and loud and ready to fight the whole world for me despite being late in the first place. And if forgive him.

But he didn’t come, and I hated myself for still hoping.

I pulled my knees into my chest, my arms were too weak to hug them tight. My hair stuck to the side of my face, wet from sweat and tears. I stared at the stone floor because looking up meant seeing the bodies, and I couldn’t look at them again.

Then I heard footsteps, and my breath hitched. 

I prayed to whatever God still bothered to watch this world that it wasn’t another beast. But what was left to take if not my life?