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 apart. 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 suits.

I didn’t look at them. I couldn’t look away from the man on the ground. Although, I continued backing up and breathing so 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 see all three of them were on the ground.

My chest heaved but no air stayed in. My ears rang, my throat scorched. I couldn’t see through the tears, nor could I feel my legs. My entire body shook so hard it felt like my bones rattled underneath my skin.

The smell… my God, the stench of blood clung to my nostrils, the metallic taste like rusted coins melting on my tongue that 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 was warm with thick liquid.

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 shock washed over me, I saw him approach 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-wood 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 adjusted his cufflinks, calm as moonlight.

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. 

He crouched to my eye level slowly.

“Breathe,” his voice rumbled.

I didn’t.

“Breathe,” he repeated with less patience.

I gasped, not because he told me to. My body decided it wanted to live, even when my mind begged it to stop.

“You knew what he was, didn’t you?” He sounded cruelly amused. “You lay down with dogs, ragazza. You get fleas.”

His fingers brushed a lock of hair from my face, and I flinched. 

A smile twisted his lips before he fisted the hair at my crown and jerked my face up to his.

I squeezed my eyes shut, and a grunt painfully escaped my throat.

“I hate repeating myself,” he growled lowly, “but I’ll do it one last time. Did you know?”

Tears fell, and he took them as an answer.

“Good girl,” he hummed.

I whimpered. 

“Tell me, how does it feel? Knowing you’ve disappointed the only man who ever saw you.”

He didn't wait for a reply, and I didn't have one either. 

He tore his gaze away and rose to his feet, gesturing to someone behind him. 

Two men approached, and I rasped.

“No!” The word came out hoarse and helpless… almost laughable.

“I don’t like raising my voice, ragazza. But you’ve left me no choice.” He twirled his right fingers, and the men knelt, circling me. “Make her quiet," he ordered.

I felt something cold pressed into my jaw, and before I could react, a leather strained against my mouth, then a hard tug behind my head. 

The gag bit into my skin.

I kicked blindly, but a heavy boot caught the inside of my knee and I collapsed.

“Rip the gown,” he stood back. “Flip her onto her belly.”

~~~~~~~~~

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 need to see him. 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 witnessed it with my very own eyes.

My God, I was helpless.

“It didn't kill you,” he growled into my ear before forcing his way with me. “So be smart. Next time, I won’t be so charitable.”

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.

One, two, three…

I counted my heartbeats. If I stopped counting, I’d remember his hand around my neck. Or how I didn’t scream. I didn’t scream. 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. 

How he used to call me what had now become my favorite flower, but the roses were already withering. I thought of the way his eyes burned when anyone looked at me too long. I told myself he’d feel it in his bones that something was wrong, and he'd miraculously show up, furious and loud and ready to fight the whole world and even that man for me, despite being late in the first place. And I'd forgive him.

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

I tried pulling my knees up but my arms were too weak to touch them. The air stung my skin. My shawl had fallen somewhere, and I couldn’t remember where. 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 the slow stomping of footsteps echoed, drawing closer, and my breath hitched.

I prayed to whatever god still bothered to watch this world that it wasn’t another beast. 

Because what was left to take if not my life?