Page 9 of Sinner's Vows

He’s been here four times, but each visit has been such a painful ordeal, I have nightmares. I dread his return, the mere thought making my heartbeat spike, fear paralyzing my limbs. Even now, I’m unable to unfurl from where I’m curled up in a ball. I know how this ends. How else? There’s going to be that moment when his scalpel digs too deep and when he finally slaughters me by skinning me alive.

I’ve tried to detach from this situation and meditate myself into a state of calm, but I lapse. More and more often. I’ve always imagined if I get caught by the Mafia, they’d kill me kindly with a bullet to the head. Or anything else that would do the trick in minutes. Not this slow, starving uncertainty, death row in the dark, with no set execution date.

My ears home in on the noises that vibrate through the building. From far above, someone is descending to this dungeon. I still, overly conscious of every little sound. Metal against metal, scraping, slamming. Keys forced into locks, twisting as if it’s a chicken’s neck, breaking. Steps. I’ve counted them. Twenty-five down to this cellar.

Voices. I start to quiver uncontrollably.Franco. Not again? Not so soon? He was here yesterday, and I’m still raw.

By the time he has banged open the wooden door, I’ve all but pissed myself in fear. Light blazes into the space, and I cower away. I’m slowly going blind in this dark existence.

“Piccola ragazza.”

His little girl. If only I were never born.

I should defy him and show no fear, but it’s become hard. I should fight, but it’s been nineteen days since I’ve been locked up here, and without enough food, I’m losing muscle mass. I’m weak. In the beginning, they tied me up, leaving me on thismattress for days, until I withered and all the fight drained out of me.

“Ariana,” Franco says again as he comes closer. “Come now, look at me.”

I squint in his direction, taking in the two looming male figures etched out in the torchlight Franco points to my chest. By the door, a henchman with a machine gun is on standby.

“And you call that a prize?” the other man says. It’s a new voice.Hehasn’t been here before. “Fuck, just look at her. And the stench?—”

“Nothing a good scrub can’t fix, Vincenzo.” Franco comes up to me, harshly takes my jaw in his hand, and forces me to look up at him. “To think I planned to marry her at some point.”

“Trust me, Gigi will be a much better fuck than this hag.”

Both men smirk as Franco shoots this Vincenzo a glance. Gloating. He’s gloating, showing Vincenzo hisprize.

“Why are we wasting time here, Franco? You took over from Randazzo. It’s been a month, and nobody has contested your rule. Once you’re married to Gigi, you’ll have access to all the money you’ll ever need.”

I can’t hear my own thoughts over the rush of adrenaline through my veins, over my heartbeats that hammer in my temples. My eyes hurt, but at least Franco isn’t shining the torch in my face.

I peer up at him, trying to make sense of the words.Vincenzo. Franco is marryingGigi. My thoughts tick over, one by one. I’ve studied every last known Mafia family in Italy. Vincenzo is such a common name, but there’s only one Gigi I know of. Gigi Trapani. Vincenzo Trapani. And there’s the youngest one, Carla Trapani, still a girl. Maybe not. She must be finishing school this year.

Franco lets go of my jaw, and I don’t make a sound. He retaliates too quickly with his fists.

“You say you guarantee me access to your family’s millions, Vincenzo, but until I’ve seen the physical stacks of gold, the diamonds?—”

Vincenzo pulls a packet of cigarettes from his jacket’s inner pocket and holds one out for Franco.

“Don Trapani will bend to your rule, Franco,” Vincenzo says as he searches for a lighter. “You’ll see tomorrow night. We just need to be there early enough to make sure he understands his new position. He won’t stand in the way of you marrying Gigi. I’ll make sure of it.”

God help Don Trapani. And Gigi.As a woman, I already weep for her. From here, I can’t do anything to help her. I’ve done nothing to help anybody or stop that auction from happening the night Franco came for me. Where are all those women now? Mere girls drugged into slavery?

Franco tosses the torch to the mattress, and it rolls, comes to a standstill, and beams onto the stone wall, leaving half my body lit up but my face in the dark. I bite down on my jaw, fear already choking me because I know what men like these do with cigarettes.

Franco pulls a lighter from his pocket and toys with it. Each time he flicks it into flame, a tremor zaps up my spine.

Vincenzo nods to him, and as Franco holds the flame to his cigarette, he mutters between drags, “Does she even talk, or have you cut out her tongue?”

“I dunno. When I first met her, she used to be a real chatterbox. As a kid, you know,” Franco says as he lights his own cigarette.

I was a kid once. A girl, innocent and pure, with an easy laugh.

A thin ribbon of smoke finally reaches my nose. At least that part of me is still working a hundred percent.

“They always seem to become really quiet around me after our first introductions,” Franco says after another deep puff.

Both men smirk, and I bite down on my lip, sealing my mouth as tight as I can. Nothing is beyond Franco Fiore.

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