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Rafael was having a bad night. It had started well, with drinks in a club with the sons of his father's associates. They were all young and handsome and had plenty of money to slip into the lingerie of the prettiest strippers in Rome.
He had been having a piss when something pierced his neck. He had gone down on the club's bathroom tiles, his dick still in his hands.
His father was going to be furious about that. That was if he managed to survive whatever was going to happen to him next.
Rafael could fight; he'd had to learn how from a young age, but all the fighting skills in the world weren't helpful when you were cuffed to a chair.
"Little prince, are you awake yet?" a voice called from the gloom. Only one light was on in the warehouse he was being held in, and it was pointed directly at his face.
"What do you want?" Rafael asked. He fought the childish urge to ask them if they knew who his father was. No one fucked with Michele Asellio, and messing with his son was the biggest mistake these assholes were ever going to make.
A man walked into the light. Big, muscled, meant to intimidate. If Rafael hadn't been tied up, he could have taken him in a fair fight. It wasn't going to be fair.
"We have been trying to get your father to let us use the service of his ships occasionally, and he's refusing to see the bigger picture," the man said.
Rafael smiled. "And you think taking his only son is going to convince him? All you are going to get is a bullet in your brain." The blow followed as he expected it.
There is no reasoning with idiots. Rafael wouldn't let them hear his grunts or cries of pain.
He was pulled out of the chair and hung on a hook like a prized catch. The blows were precise and methodical. They were meant to hurt but not be fatal. Maybe they weren't as dumb as they appeared.
Blood was pouring from a cut in his head, and his vision was going dark. He tried to memorize each and every face so he could identify them later. If there was a later.
His father wouldn't get into bed with the mafia like many others. He wouldn't give them what they wanted.
Rafael didn't know which family was currently kicking the shit out of him, but he would find out. The Asellios had money and connections too, and they were all legal. His father was as ruthless as any mafia boss.
"I thought a rich boy like you would've been begging for mercy by now," one of his assailants said with begrudging respect. "At least crying for his mama."
Rafael spat a gob of blood out. "I'd rather cry for yours. She would probably appreciate a good-looking young man because your papa would have to be fuck ugly to father you."
The man snarled, lifting his fist again, but the hit never came. A small throwing knife was sticking out of his hand.
"What the fuck—" He went to pull the knife out as another lodged into his throat, and he was going down. Guns started firing, and Rafael knew he was going to die in the crossfire. A flash of gold glinted in the shadows, then it was gone again. Screams of dying men echoed all around him.
"There will be more coming, so you better be able to walk," a voice said, and then the most stunning woman Rafael had ever seen appeared with a bloody dagger in her hand. He had been raised around beauty, but this woman was something else. She was built strong and was almost as tall as he was.
She was an Amazon, dressed in black pants, boots, and a turtleneck. She wasn't wearing body armor, just a leather back harness holding two swords. Her blonde braid didn't have a single hair out of place.
"Can you talk, or have they cut out your tongue?" she demanded with a voice that sounded like it belonged somewhere between the bedroom and the battlefield.
"I... I can walk, I think," he stammered. The woman grabbed him around the waist and lifted him up and off the hook that held his chains. He was a tall guy and wasn't exactly light. How did she lift him so easily? Rafael caught a perfume of something darkly exotic before she put him on his feet.
"Did my father send you?" he asked, willing his legs to stay upright. He couldn't appear weak in front of anyone.
"Michele is worried about you, so I'm here to save your ass," the woman said and patted him down. "No holes in you? Good. Let's go."
"I would like to know the name of my rescuer," Rafael replied, following her into the darkness.
"I'm sure you would, ragazzo. Keep behind me. Don't try to be brave." The woman had her dagger free again. She bent down to pick up one of the batons from a body and passed it to him. "Here, take this."
"You don't want to give me one of those nice swords?"
She huffed out a sound that was almost a laugh. "I wouldn't want you to cut yourself. Baby boys use sticks only. There's more of those assholes out there, and I promised Michele you wouldn't get shot. Don't make a liar out of me."
Rafael took the baton with a grin. "You're so mean."
