Page 45 of The Sicilian Bastard
Araceli
Luciano left me on the floor bleeding. I wasn't talking about the wounds on my back, either. No, he left a wound on my heart so large, I wasn't sure I would ever recover. There was nothing worse than being kidnapped, forced to fall in love, and then left behind like I was nothing. Wait for love? I remembered someone else I loved and he hurt me irreparably. It happened in an instant.
"If you love me, you will do this for me, mi vida." The man who haunted my dreams sat on his throne. His face was clear as day. He had three teardrops tattooed under his left eye. There was a five-point crown tattooed on his throat. His brown eyes were dead and cold. When he raked his gaze over mine, I shivered in disgust. I hated him. El jefe.
"I can't, Papi. I just can't." At my refusal, he slammed his hands on his desk. I jumped from his unexpected outburst. Of course, he didn't care if I could or not. It was going to be done.
"Listen here, you little cunt. This is the only thing you're good for. This is the only way I can keep my head up and call you my heir. If any of those bitches had given me a son, I would've cut your head off and finished with you. After I gave you over to all my men, of course. Your uncle has been asking about you, princesa."
My stomach rolled in disgust. I could still feel the hands of my father's inner circle touching me. It was the first time, but it wasn't the last. He used me in everything, my body given to his closest men and promised to the entire cartel for their loyalty. If he had business deals, he used me to seal them, whether that be as an incentive or a way to gather intel and leverage. There was no out for me. After what I saw him do, he was asking more of me.
"Papi, they will kill me if I'm caught. I won't be safe." I had to try to plead with him. His crazy plan couldn't be done. There was no way.
"If you don't succeed, then you die."
I gasped in horror, my hand covering my mouth, and looked at him. I meanlookedat him. He was soulless. There was nothing left but a shell, a husk. For years, he boasted he was building an empire for me. That wasn't true. It couldn't be. If he was, why would he treat me this way? My uncle walked into my father's office without knocking. He bowed slightly then leered at me as he took a seat. He was my father's right hand. He used me the most. No matter where I was, he was there. He snuck into my bedroom. My cries echoed off the walls. He didn't care who heard. He used me in front of other familia. I was tainted. No one was going to save me. Now father wanted me to go to the Russians and help broker a new deal.
"Did she agree?" My uncle licked his lips as his gaze soaked in my bare skin that my dress didn't cover.
I used to have curves, but I was emaciated. All the stress of being at my father's beck and call had taken a toll on my body. My health was fading. I looked like a strung-out crack addict. Did that stop the men from using and abusing me? No. After all, the only thing a woman was good for were the holes in her body. If she didn't give those holes up, create a new one. That was the motto these monsters lived by.
"She's being stubborn like that stupid cunt I married." My father was always insulting my mother. She was given to him by a rival cartel in Spain. It was like two mules and forty acres when it came to arranged marriages. My mother's family gifted my father handsomely for taking their burden off their hands. They had many sons and had no use for a woman. He boasted all the time about how they swindled him. How he should've gotten more.
"She should be careful then," my uncle warned. I knew he was doing it to scare me not because he cared about my well-being. I nodded my head slightly. I might hate them all, but when they helped, even unintentionally, I gave them due respect.
"You should teach her a lesson right now." My father pointed to his desk. My uncle grinned and lept out of the seat. I wanted to run, but that would only make it worse. There was nowhere to go. There was no one to help me. I lost.
Afterward, my uncle zipped up his pants, laughing. I was left broken on the floor of my father's office, bleeding everywhere. Rage was pumping through my veins. I kept my face carefully blank, waiting to be dismissed.
"It's my turn." My father grabbed me and I screamed. This had never happened before. I fought against him as he shoved me under his desk. He broke the last hole I had that worked. My uncle stayed and watched, his smile wider and wider, the more pain I had to endure. I couldn't stop them. I couldn't stop any of them.
After I wiped my shame away from my body, I hunched into myself and thought. There had to be a way out. There had to be someone big enough to take these men down. A lightbulb went off in the back of my head. As I gathered my ripped clothing to my body, I zoned out, focused on the new plan. I couldn't trust anyone, but I finally had something that these men beat out of me. I finally had hope.
I came back to myself shivering on the floor in the bedroom at Nicolo's estate. I was Araceli Castello, mafia princess to the Mexican cartel. I had been used and abused my entire life. After remembering who I was and where I came from, I started seeing Luciano in a different light. The throbbing of the open welts on my back told me that he was the same. He didn't care about me. He wasn't going to save me. I could only rely on myself. There was nothing I could do. This wasn't love. This was hate. Luciano hated women. He was projecting his insecurities on me. I couldn't stand it anymore. He stole me. He bulldozed me. He ravished me. But he didn't love me. He couldn't. I was sick of loving men who didn't deserve me. Sick of men coming into my life and forcing their way onto me. I have done nothing to anyone. Yet, I get shit on.
Ruby wouldn't have let this happen to her. She would've fought back. Sure, I did in the beginning, but somewhere along the way, I stopped.
"No more," I murmured out loud.
I hauled my sorry self off the floor and walked slow, like a snail, into the bathroom. Luciano and I were sharing this suite, but I doubted I would see him at all. He was a coward. He ran from his problems. Instead of helping me heal, he was hurting me. I liked it. I came twice, but it wasn't the same as being with someone who truly cared for you. A man. A real man would have stayed and at least put salve on me. I was better than this. Here I was, riding or dying, for what? Someone who wouldn't do the same for me. These made men could give two fucks about me and my problems. The cartel was only here for me. Father wanted me dead for my betrayal. Although I still am fuzzy on some parts, I had no idea what broke this camel's back. I was a traitor, but I didn't know why.
I looked in the mirror and didn't like what I saw. This woman in front of the bathroom mirror looked haunted. Her brown doe eyes were wide with horror. Her blue hair had grown out and her dark roots were showing. It didn't look bad, but she preferred hiding. The blue hair had been a disguise. Her father never let her dye her hair. He said it would shame him if I acted like all the other loose and immoral women. Why he cared, I had no idea. The way he passed me around, I was as loose and immoral as every other woman. When my mother was alive, he passed her around more than me. I don't know what changed, but as soon as I got a period, he went off the rails.
I stepped into the steaming hot shower with a low scream through gritted teeth. This wasn't pleasurable pain. It hurt, the burns and marks left by a man who'd stomped all over my heart. I needed to get out of here.
How long will you continue to run?my inner voice taunted. Of course, I had to keep running. I was going to run until they finally caught me and killed me. There was no other choice. I couldn't stay here and try to get the Picones to accept me. They wouldn't want to deal with the cartel. If I tried to stay, it could start a war. While I didn't know this family well, I knew that they didn't like to be disrespected. The cartel had already done that, but if I went back to Vegas, they would follow me. I had to leave a large enough trail for them to follow. I didn't believe in using people. I wasn't my father. No, I'd rather forge my path.
As the shower pelted down on my bleeding, bruised, and burnt skin, there was a war raging inside of me. One side said run. If I was honest with myself, I wanted to keep Luciano safe despite the way he treated me.
"Stupid," I berated myself.
The second side said run and don't stop running until the cartel ran into bigger monsters. If they ran into someone else who could take care of them, I wouldn't have to be afraid for my life anymore. The problem with that was who would that be? My father had been slow in taking over. He almost had the Russians. If I had gone to the meetings he wanted me to instead of—I couldn't remember why I never met the Russians. The memory was right there on the tip of my tongue. There was a reason why I had disobeyed my father. I closed my eyes trying to picture it, but I couldn't. The more I tried, the harder my head hurt and the longer my fuzzy picture got fuzzier. There was a reason I was a traitor. I remembered the men who shot me calling me that in the alleyway. I could still smell the garbage can and see the homeless man who was diving in trying to eat and not get shot. I fell in piss and old water. No one knew where I was and I doubted anyone had cared. Once a kill order was sent out by el jefe, the hunt began. No person stood in el jefe's way. I had been running for days and my luck ran out in that alleyway. The worst part of that memory was that I thought I had gotten away. I hadn't, not by a long shot. They were getting back at me now. There were so many times I got out of their talk and they'd get into trouble. I loved causing mischief like that. Father had run his business with an iron fist. Many feared him, but none as much as his underlings. They worked under him because they didn't have a choice. Many wanted a green card or to be legal in America. My father exploited that and tried to be dominant. Who wouldn't kill for the American dream? I scoffed, giving myself one more look in the mirror before walking out and climbing back into bed face down. Luciano left me here to suffer. Suffering was what I planned to do.
