Chapter 6: They Came With Guns

 

Katarina's POV

“You can’t sell me like I’m one of your broken bottles,” I spat. 

My father's eyes burned into me, his resentment thick and ugly. His mouth twisted not in anger, but in happiness. 

"Get ready, Katarina," he said, his voice icy. "The Giordano Cartel will be here for you. Don't make me wait."

I froze. The chill wasn't just fear..it was the disbelief

I was being sold as a  piece of property. A whore.

The dream from the night before still clung to me. I could feel the Don's voice on my skin, the echo of his belt dragging across tile, the sting of his teeth on my shoulder.

I had woken up dripping, ashamed, aroused and now this?

This couldn't be real. I was being sold to the Cartel. To a man I didn't even know. The anger inside me flared up, ready to burst, but I swallowed it. Fighting wouldn't be worth it. Not when challenging the rules meant I could lose my life.

"You'll regret this," I said quietly.

He laughed. "No, darling. You will."

His words stung, and his tone was final. He meant it. This was happening whether I wanted it or not. But that didn't mean I had to make it easy for them.

I turned stiffly and walked to my room. My fingers shook as I grabbed a bag.

From the living room, my mother's voice drifted in—slurred, barely coherent. She was slumped on the couch, eyes closed, lost in whatever drug had destroyed her mind years ago.

"Make sure you get my cut," she mumbled, not even bothering to open her eyes.

I wanted to throw up.

Not because she said it but because she meant it.

I didn't respond. The thought of being sold like some kind of commodity made bile rise in my throat. But she didn't care. It was always about the money, the high, the next fix.

I grabbed a small bag from my closet, trying to keep my composure, but the panic was rising. I could hear loud voices outside now and becoming impatient. The sound of motorcycle engines revving.

They were here.

I turned to leave my room, and Mateo was standing in the doorway. His face was drawn, a mix of concern and fury blazing in his eyes.

"No," he said, his voice low and forceful. "You're not leaving. I won't let this happen."

I wanted to cry and  beg him to stop our father, to fight for me. But I knew it wouldn't change anything. The Cartel was already here. They would take me whether he liked it or not.

My throat closed up. "Mateo, please don't make this worse."

He didn't budge. "I should've killed him the day he hit you. I should've—"

Heavy Knock!. Knock!!. Knock!!!.

The sound of fists pounding on the door cut him off abruptly.

It was them.

I could hear my father's voice, quick and muffled, as he opened the door and spoke to the men on the other side. My stomach turned. This was it. There was no way out now.

But I wasn't going down without a fight.

"Mateo," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Distract them. Please."

His jaw clenched. He didn't want to agree. But he saw the fear in my eyes, the desperation.

"If I don't make it out..." he said, voice tight. "Run far. Don't look back."

"Get to your window," he added, his voice suddenly sharp. "I'll buy you time."

I nodded and slipped back into my room, heart pounding.

I yanked the curtains open and shoved the window up. My breath caught in my throat as I looked down. Two black motorcycles idled at the curb below. One man leaned against the building, arms crossed tattooed neck, shaved head …the thugs from yesterday... The other stood beside him swinging a knife.

Before climbing out, I grabbed a butter knife from my dresser and shoved it into the waistband of my shorts. Useless, probably but it made me feel less helpless.

Then..

CRASH.

A loud grunt from the living room.

"Stay the fuck away from my sister!" Mateo's voice, full of fury.

I didn't wait.

I climbed out the window, gripping the ledge, and dropped down into the alley below. I landed hard scraping my palms, my knees stinging but I was free.

For now.

I ran barefoot and didn’t look back

Every footstep echoed louder than the last. Every shadow felt like hands reaching for me. My heart pounded so hard it hurt, my chest aching with every breath.

Behind me, I could still hear them..heavy footsteps, someone yelling in Italian, furniture scraping.

I had seconds. Not minutes. Seconds.

I rounded the corner to the alley and collided straight into someone.

His Strong arms caught me before I could fall.

"Kat?"

I blinked up through tears.

Liam….  His eyes scanned me sweaty, scratched and wild-eyed

"What happened? Are you hurt?"

I couldn't form words. I just nodded, tears streaming down my face. "Please. They're after me. I can't.."

"Come with me." His voice sounded protective. He wrapped his arm around me and led me quickly through side streets, moving with a confidence I'd never seen in him before.

He didn't ask  any questions. He just moved.

At Liam's Apartment

His place was... not what I expected.

Liam…quiet, comic-reading Liam…lived in subtle wealth. The apartment was clean, organized and expensive.

It wasn't the mess of pizza boxes and game controllers I'd imagined.

Bookshelves lined the walls, everything alphabetized. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and gun oil? A security panel blinked quietly on the wall by the door.

Everything was too neat. 

"You live here?" I asked, dazed.

He glanced at me. "Yeah. It's safer than most places. Come on."

He led me to a small guest room and gestured for me to sit on the bed. Then he disappeared into the bathroom.

I looked around, unease creeping up my spine.

Something felt... off.

He returned with a bowl of warm water and a towel, kneeling gently at my feet.

"You're bleeding," he said softly.

He touched the edge of my ankle and I flinched.

"Ouch," I hissed.

"Sorry," he murmured. "I have to clean them. You've got cuts everywhere."

He washed my feet with gentle hands, so steady. He bandaged me with ease

I watched his face as he worked. There was something different about him. His eyes looked darker. His voice was smoother. Even his accent seemed... off.

I'd always known Liam was a little weird. But now, I wasn't sure if he was weird...

Or dangerous.

"Stay here, Kat," Liam said, standing. "I'll make sure you're safe. Get some rest."

I nodded, too exhausted to argue.

He left, closing the door softly behind him.

I sank onto the bed, my mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion.

But one thing was clear—I was no longer in control of my life. The Giordano Cartel was after me. My father had sold me. And now I was caught in something bigger than myself.

But I would not be a victim. Not anymore.

As I lay there in the dark, I began to notice small things about Liam's apartment that didn't make sense. The faint hum of what seemed like a security network. The polished look of the bookshelves and expensive gadgets, all meticulously organized.

His usual nerdy awkwardness had slipped away, replaced by a different him.

The most unsettling detail?

He'd found me too fast in that alley. Like he knew where I'd be.

And he never asked why I was running. Never asked who was chasing me.

A whisper crawled through my brain:

What if he already knew?

I rubbed my eyes, exhausted. I didn't want to think about that now.

But I glanced at the mirror on the wall across from the bed.

Liam was standing in the doorway behind me—I hadn't heard him come back.

For just a second, his expression shifted. A stranger's smile.

Then it was gone. Back to the gentle, concerned Liam.

I blinked.

Was I imagining it?

He stepped back into the hallway without a word, closing the door again.

I pulled the blanket up to my chin, heart pounding.

I was safe here.

But for how long?

And from who?