Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
CHAPTER FIVE
“I have built my organization upon fear.” —Al Capone
Katya
Alice and Santino had dressed every wound, fixed everything on me, added cream, and much to my embarrassment, when Alice couldn’t quite finish the stitches on my stomach because she was crying so hard over my bruised ribs and hips, Santino took over.
She was still there, she held my hand, but I was nearly naked, in nothing but clean underwear and a black sports bra, while Santino easily stitched the rest, tied them, and moved to my arm. I could barely feel the needle since they’d given me pain medicine and a local anesthetic.
The hands of an assassin for the mafia—his hands were gentle, and I didn’t want to feel peace when he touched me when he sealed the wounds and kept the blood from spilling when all he did was spill blood.
Wasn’t that irony or an oxymoron?
Either way, he was good at keeping people alive as well as killing them, a man of many talents. When he was done, he went and washed my blood from his hands and waited for Alice to help me dress.
When Alice left. He stayed watch by the door. Did the thought ever occur to him that having an actual assassin watch me sleep was having the opposite effect?
Finally, I faked it. I started breathing a bit deeper and closed my eyes.
The floor creaked as he moved—thinking I was asleep.
The joke was on all of them. I wasn’t going to be able to sleep for a very long time. The bastard even came all the way over to the bed and poked me, then hovered over me like a distressed parent before finally cursing and shutting the door softly behind him.
It was three seconds, maybe four.
Stupidly I almost reached out to him, almost grabbed his arm, and begged him to stay—to hold me and tell me that everything was going to be okay. That I wasn’t just trading nightmares and jailers. Maybe I didn’t want an assassin watching me sleep, but it was nice knowing he would use his body as a shield if anyone broke in.
I squeezed my eyes shut harder and kept my breathing even.
Several voices sounded from downstairs; most of them sounded happy, and then I heard a gunshot.
I pulled the covers over my head as my body shook.
Did everyone have guns?
Knives?
What sort of world had I just walked into?
What sort of brother did I even have?
I squeezed my eyes shut tighter as visions of my father’s gun flashed in my line of vision, of my brother Andrei’s blood as he got hit with the back of my dad’s hand.
My mom’s hollow eyes.
“No,” I whispered to myself. “It’s just my mind playing tricks. They abandoned us. They left us.”
My head was sure.
My heart, however, told me something was wrong.
I missed my twin.
Pace had been my rock, my savior; he was gone.
And I was so dehydrated I had no tears to cry, just memories of survival with the only person in this godforsaken world who had ever cared for me more than he cared for himself.
I fought sleep but finally relaxed into the expensive sheets as nightmares came in waves.
My captor touched me. Tried to rip my shirt.
“No!” I woke up screaming.
Santino rushed into my room in nothing but a towel, damp hair, and a gun trained on my head. “What happened?” His chest heaved. He was impossibly toned, with muscles that appeared strung so tight I wondered if he had trouble breathing. His honey-brown hair was wet against his face as water dripped down his chin.
“N-nightmare.” I found my voice. “Sorry for interrupting your shower…”
Slowly he lowered the gun. “Well, it’s been an interesting night, so the interrupted shower is the least of my worries right now.” He sighed. “And apparently, I did so well with the task at hand that I’ve been promoted. You’re my new job.”
“What? What job?” I sat up more, wincing in pain since the medicine had worn off a bit. I’d reach for the bottle of pills later.
“Bodyguard and all-around killer.” He pointed at himself. “Innocent mafia princess.” He pointed at me. “Any questions?”
Were they all insane? “Yes, you ass, of course I have questions. I don’t even know who Andrei is now! I was so young even then that I always thought it was some sort of fictional world I’d created!”
Santino scowled and ran a hand down his face, leaving his towel tied around his waist. Any second, I was convinced it was going to fall. “All right, the fast version. Your father was the head of the Petrov crime Family, a Russian crime Family; Italians and Russians mix like oil and water, but the shock of the century, your mom was a Sinacore. Ergo, he’s half, and so are you, and legally he’s the heir to the Sinacore throne. So the families merged, and now we’re in the middle of a super duper fun mafia war since the old families of Sicily have rowed their fucking boats across the ocean to kill all of us. That…” He shrugged. “…about sums it up.”