Page 8 of Taken By the Mafia King
I tried to swallow but it was impossible. He pulled on the chemise until I heard the fabric rip a little, the stitches giving way like the grip I had on my fraying panic. “Do you want to know how you’ll be rewarded for being a good little slut?” His words were clipped. Excited.
Bile stung the back of my throat. I sucked in a sob as his hands slid over my body. There was no sense of pleasure in his touch at all. It was all pain.
“I’m your daddy now,bella,” he whispered into my neck. “I want to hear you say it.”
“No,” I whispered without meaning to say anything at all. His body tightened behind mine.
“I own you. I can do what I want to you, and I will. It’ll hurt more if you try to fight me, bella. I can promise you that. But I like it better when it hurts a little, don’t you?”
His teeth clamped down on my neck, and I screamed, trying to pull away from him. He laughed. The sound reverberated off all the concrete and hit me from every angle. I strained against the cuffs. If only I could cover my ears. His manic laughter taunted me as he threw me down on the soiled mattress. I tried to make myself as small as possible, pulling my knees into my chest, but he grabbed my ankle and dragged me back toward him.
“Do I need to share you with my men, bella?” He reached for his belt buckle as he pinned one of my legs to the mattress and knelt. “Or are you going to behave for me? They won’t be as gentle as I am, and I am not a gentle man by any means.”
I whimpered as his hand crept up my leg.
“Open your legs for me. I want to see what I spent so much money on.”
I shook my head, tearing my leg out of his grasp and kicking him, mostly by accident, right in the face.
He grabbed me and pinned me to the bed, his arm pressing against my neck so hard my vision began to blur.
“Stupid slut,” he rasped, licking the tears from my cheek. “You’ll regret that.”
I closed my eyes, but that didn’t spare me hearing the sound of him unzipping his fly.
CHAPTER 8
SERA
I’m dying.
Gabriele was killing me, his arm pressed into my neck and cutting off my air supply. My fingernails clawed at his arm, but he didn’t move. I felt myself slipping into calm, cool darkness and it was a welcome relief.
But then I heard shouting, and suddenly he released me. I took a deep, desperate breath even though I’d been reaching toward that bright light at the end of the tunnel that turned out to be the grime-covered lightbulb hanging from the ceiling instead. As soon as the humid, putrid air filled my lungs I started coughing and couldn’t stop.
“What?” Gabriele shouted as he pulled on his pants and threw open the door. I couldn’t hear what the guard said, but Gabriele cursed under his breath as I brought my shaking hands up and clutched my neck where a bruise was surely forming. More coughs came, and Gabriel shoved me aside, cursing at me to be quiet.
“Get her some different clothes,” he growled. “And make her eat. Force her if need be. I don’t want her losing any weight in that ass. I have plans for it later. Then you boys can have your fill.”
I had just enough strength to roll over and off the mattress before I threw up. The door slammed shut and I was left alone, but the shouting in the hallway didn’t cease for what felt like several minutes. Was I being rescued?
The thought spurred me back to reality. I wrapped the sheet around my shaking body and moved to the door when things quieted down. It was locked up tight. I held up a fist, my hand trembling and soaked in dried blood from the wounds left behind by the handcuffs.
I pounded on the door, but no one was out there. I started to scream, pleading for help. Nothing. Just silence for what felt like an eternity.
But then… sound, from above? I looked up as little puffs of dust drifted off the ceiling and settled on my shoulders. What was happening?
Footsteps sounded in the hallway and I backed away from the door.
“Please help,” I croaked. “Please, help me. Please!”
Several locks sprang loose from the door, and it opened, spilling light over my toes and legs and…
A guard dressed in nothing more than a sweaty white shirt and jeans with a huge pistol gleaming on his hip, stepped into the room. He shoved me backward. Hard. I stumbled and landed hard on my bottom while he rolled a toothpick over his tongue, grinning down at me before tossing a first-aid kit on the floor beside me.
“Clean yourself up.” His voice was void of kindness and sympathy. He turned on his heel and hesitated before leaving, casting me a sneer over his shoulder. “You’re fucking disgusting.” He slammed the door behind him.
I began to hyperventilate, hearing the locks snap back in place. My heart cracked and splintered, whatever shred of hopeI’d had for rescue shattering in my chest. I tried to take a breath, to force even a bit of air into my lungs, but I couldn’t breathe.
