AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Fuck you,” I shout, as I sit up and press my non-injured hand to my bloody one to try and stop the bleeding. It’s not the worst I’ve had, but shit, it hurt…yeah, hurt. I cross my legs to stop myself from thinking about that other confusing…no, fuck that.
Dropping my eyes to my hands to avoid his too bright, all-seeing gaze, I prod at the cut. The crazy bastard opened it up again. It’s not too deep, it doesn’t need stitches—I got good at realising what does and doesn’t need sutures after getting hurt every day. This one will heal, probably leaving another scar to add to my collection.
I jerk back when I raise my eyes and realise the big guy is crouched before me, his dark gaze locked on me, his black hair falling across his forehead in an oddly endearing way as he reaches for my hand. “May I?” he murmurs, but I keep it clutched to my chest, and he sighs. “I won’t hurt you. I’m used to fixing cuts, bruises, and breaks.”
“I bet you are,” I snap, and his eyebrow rises.
“Not in that way, you should really avoid D though. He isn’t like…us. He’ll hurt you for fun,” he warns softly, his tattooed knuckles clenching. He’s so big, his hands must be bigger than my head. He could snap me in two and hurt me so easily. Yet he doesn’t…why?
“Oh, avoid him? That didn’t fucking occur to me, and how would you like me to avoid him when I’m in a locked room, and the crazy bastard breaks in and stares at me while I sleep?” I huff.
His lips twitch, and he nods at my cut again. “Let me at least clean it and wrap it. How’s your lip?” he questions, his big thumb coming up and prodding at my sore lip. I freeze as he strokes his thumb across it, his eyes scrutinising and clinical. Cold. Like he isn’t affected, like his touch isn’t doing strange fucking things to me.
Things I have no business feeling when I’m his prisoner.
He nods. “It’s not busted too badly, it will heal.” He releases my lips and takes my hand gently, turning it to regard the cut before standing so quickly I jolt back—a habit, a habit I thought I’d broken. He sees it, of course he does, but doesn’t comment. “Let me get a kit.”
He leaves the room for a moment, and I scramble to my feet to run after him and escape, but he shuts the door and locks it. The bastard. Pacing, snarling, and swearing under my breath, I wait for him to return. There is no way I can take this big guy. I’m good, but I’m not that good. Plus, I’ve seen his scarred knuckles and crooked nose, which has been broken too many times, so I know he’s a fighter. By the fluid way he moves for such a big guy, I would guess a boxer.
The door unlocks, and he comes back in with a first aid kit. He gestures for me to sit on the bed, so I do, hoping if I’m good, I can lull them into a false sense of security. He kneels down and cleans the cut, ignoring me completely.
“What will happen to my bar?” I demand. I love that place. It’s my home, the only place I ever belonged, and I worked my ass off to keep it alive after…
“We locked it up, it will stay closed for now,” he offers, uncaring about my questions or anger as he wraps my hand back up and stands. “You should get some sleep.”
He turns then and starts to leave, so I leap into his path. “Why? Why are you doing this?” I whisper, tears finally filling my eyes. “I’m a person, a person! Not an object, please just let me go.”
He sighs, scrubbing at his face. “No. Get some sleep.”
Then he leaves, the click of the door signalling it’s locked again. I wipe my tears away, angry with myself for letting him see that weakness. All of a sudden, everything closes in on me. I’m theirs, they are never letting me go.
I know that, I can feel it. I know too much, have seen too much…this is my life now. The question is, how long will I survive? Between the crazy bastard and the mean one…I’m betting not long.
My father gave me a death sentence at the hands of these Vipers, and I’m betting he doesn’t even care. All my life, he’s been taking it out on me. I always thought he would kill me. Turns out I was right, but not in the way I thought.
* * *
I don’t sleep,not really. I lie on the floor, watching the city come to life as the sun rises. All the while, thinking of a plan. I refuse to lie here and let these bastards do whatever they want to me and possibly kill me.
I have a life.
They picked the wrong fucking girl. I’ve been fighting longer than I’ve been walking. They want an easy slave? Tough fucking luck, ’cause I’m going to make them regret the day they took me. I need to gain their trust, make them think they’re breaking my spirit. Then I’ll escape.
If they try to kill me, I’ll kill them. It’s that simple.
This isn’t a normal day anymore, this is a dog-eat-dog world…or more accurately, a Viper world. And right now, I’m the prey…
It should horrify me that I’m even contemplating killing them, but I’ve seen shit most people would never even be able to dream of, and if I have to kill four, corrupt mafia assholes to get my freedom, I will.
I’ll never stop fighting them.
I’ll be free again, and then my dad is going to pay for this.
Feeling calmer with a plan in place, I get to my feet as I hear booted feet heading my way. Kenzo opens the door and peeks in, smiling at me. He always seems to do that, but it can’t mask the calculation in his eyes, or the way he watches me and everyone. Waiting, observing.
His hair is shaved at the sides and slicked back today as he steps into the room. He’s got on a white shirt, with two buttons undone at the top to show his chiselled chest and glimpses of chest hair. It’s tucked into black trousers and shoes shinier than my life.
He’s so put together, so perfect, and screams money and power. It flows from him. He’s used to being the center of attention, the most powerful man in the room. What they don’t realise? When you hit bottom, you only have one way to go, and that’s up.
