Page 30 of The Bonventi War
"Now they want something else," my father says, his words a mumbling mess.
"What?" I ask, dreading the answer.
My father looks at me, his face a mask of anguish and defeat. "You."
"I don't understand," I say, unable to comprehend the tragedy unfolding before me.
"Those damn Russians. They demand you as a mistress to their don's son. They say you won't have to marry him, just please him for a while." His voice breaks. "If not, they'll kill me and you. So please, I said you would do it so they let me go to get you."
I can't breathe, can't think. My own father, offering me up like a sacrifice to save his own skin. The betrayal cuts deeper than any knife, and my knees give out. Gio grabs me and lifts me up, his embrace the only warmth I feel as my body is in shock, coldness wrapping me. Once I feel I can stand, I push myself off of Gio.
"You." I can barely form words through the rage and betrayal crushing my chest. "You actually told them you'd give them your daughter?"
The overwhelming urge to scream threatens to become a reality.
"Ravenna, please," my father begs. "You don't understand what they're capable of?—"
"How could you?" I cut him off.
I turn to Gio, searching his face for what, I don't know. Understanding? Sympathy? But his expression is unreadable, his jaw clenched tight.
"Did you know about this?" I demand, anger giving strength to my voice.
Gio shakes his head. "Not until tonight. We knew the Russians were involved, but not like this."
"So what now? Are you going to hand me over to them?"
"No, Raven," Gio says, his voice firm. "That's not happening."
"Ravenna, please," my father begs again. "Please, just try to understand."
"No!" The word flies from my throat. "You don't get to beg. You don't get to justify this." I'm shaking now, fury and disgust taking hold deep inside me. "Your own daughter. You were going to hand over your own daughter to be..."
I can't even say it.
My mother's face flashes in my mind. What would she think of him now? Of what he's become? Of what he's willing to do to his own child?
"You're supposed to protect me," I say, my voice raw. "You're my father. You're supposed to protect me, not—not trade me like some kind of thing."
The tears come then, hot and angry, streaming down my face. But I don't bother to wipe them away. Let him see. Let him see exactly what he's done to his daughter.
"I need some air," I gasp, stumbling backward toward the warehouse door we entered. No one tries to stop me.
"Please, Ravenna," my father yells.
But I don't look back. I don't acknowledge the man who would trade me to the Russian Mafia like some sort of prize.
God, I think I'm going to be sick.
15
GIO
Iwatch as tears stream down Raven's face, and something inside me snaps. My hands curl into fists at my sides, knuckles white with restraint. Every muscle in my body tenses, itching to tear this piece of shit apart for making her cry. The urge to beat Frank Carvello into bloody unconsciousness burns through my veins. The feeling comes on so strong, so naturally, it surprises me.
This piece of shit. This fucking waste of oxygen who would trade his own daughter.
I've killed men for far less.
