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But no, I see nothing of the sort from him, only stark, cold cruelty.
Is this where I would die? In a dark alley without a witness in sight?
Instead of reaching for a gun and splattering my brains against the pavement, the man rolls me over, immediately trapping my wrists above my head as he kneels down and straddles me. His thick, muscular thighs are on either side of me.
He releases one arm to tug up my blouse, dirtying the soft white cotton with a greasy smudge and exposing my simple black bra. I push my hands upwards from his grip to fight him again, but he pins them back again with ease.
A sick smile appears on his face as he chuckles. “Stay still, princess,” he growls. “This won’t take long with a tight little body like yours.”
His breath is nearly suffocating as it reaches my face – alcohol mixed with the unmistakable stench of half-rotten teeth. My stomach churns, and I will myself to vomit all over the both of us — anything to get him away from me — but nothing comes up as I dry heave.
I didn’t eat much today because I was too stressed out about my midterm exam, and my joy at getting a good grade seems so pointless now, so naïve. I’m going to die at the hands of this vile villain, and all the time I spent in the library studying for my future won’t mean a goddamn thing.
Righteous anger surges in my chest, and I savor it in some demented type of way, gripping it in my tight fists and hoping it won’t leak out and be lost to the fear that threatens to overtake any rational thought in my head.
The man towering above my smirks as his hand reaches for his belt, his greedy eyes taking in the paleness of my breasts as they spill dramatically out of the small cups of my bra. “I couldn’t believe it took so long to find Taras’ daughter. You think I wouldn’t recognize you?”
My blood runs cold at his affirmation that he knows who I am.
“So innocent,” he muses as he slips his belt off and tosses it behind him. “I wonder what sort of sounds you’ll make when I’m up your tight little ass.”
My blood runs cold at his words, oozing through my veins like syrup as my heart struggles to pump it through my aching body. Tears prick at the corner of my eyes as he tears the buttons of my blouse with his dominant hand. The buttons clatter on the ground and roll away into the darkness, fleeing the tragic scene.
I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out. My throat clenches, and my body locks up in fright.
Fight back! What the fuck are you doing?!My mind screams, but I can’t move.
“Don’t be scared, baby. I promise I’ll be gentle,” he jeers as he forces his knees between my thighs.
Hot tears roll down the sides of my face as I realize there’s no way for me to escape.
“My little princess, don’t cry. I told you I’d be gentle. It’s far more than you deserve, considering what your father has done to us.”
Us? Who’sus?
“Fuck off,” I’m finally able to cough out. “You’re going to regret ever laying a hand on me.”
“Oh, you mean like this?” He slaps me, smearing mascara into my eyes and causing more tears to roll down the sides of my face. “Who’s going to come get revenge once I’m done tearing you apart, princess? It definitely won’t be your father, that’s for sure. He leaves you here unprotected and without bodyguards either – a glittering gem in the sewers of mankind. He doesn’t give a shit what happens to you.”
I jerk my body underneath him, unable to move more than a few inches at a time. He’s heavy, and his grip on my wrists anchors me to the cold concrete. He smiles down at me, a gold tooth gleaming in the dim light like the last rays of a dying sun. His expression only serves to anger me further.
A thin, sharp pain runs up from my shoulder blade into my neck and the back of my head as I lift my head as far as I can to bite him. My teeth are barely able to sink into his grimy forearm before I feel something sharp against my neck, forcing my head back into the ground.
“Do that again, and I’ll slit your throat,” he snarls.
I open my mouth, ready to scream and take my chances with getting my throat cut, when there’s a piercing bang that rings out in the alley, echoing off the walls and hammering down on my eardrums like an explosion.
I smell acrid smoke – a cigar, a gun, or perhaps both – and my breathing seizes momentarily. I turn my head at the same time as my attacker does, taking in the unexpected sight of a man in a full suit at the mouth of the alley.
He steps toward us, taking his time, as though he doesn’t even see a helpless young woman being pinned to the ground by a man three times her size. He holds a gun in his hand, but it’s not pointed at anyone in particular. I figure he fired it into the air to get our attention, but I wish to god he would just shoot the motherfucker on top of me already and allow me to make a run for it.
But he doesn’t.
He lowers his gun, his eyes drifting down to me as though he were observing a lost little puppy instead of a distraught bratva princess. His rich cologne wafts toward me, spicy, with a hint of something sweet, and he smirks. His eyes sparkle like emeralds in the night.
I didn’t know if it’s a good or terrible thing that my nipples tighten painfully at his gaze. I can’t look away no matter how much I want to, as his appearance is both confusing and breathtaking.
What the hell is he doing here? Did my father send him, or is he part of the same gang as my attacker?
