“I don’t want to go,” I cried to Mamma. “Please, please. I don’t want to go.”
Her eyes were dead. Her face was black and blue. She couldn’t save me. She couldn’t even save herself. But there was nobody else here. Mia and Alessio were gone.
My wrist was broken and burnt. It ached. Father held my wrist to the fire, letting the flames lick at my skin. The smell of it stuck to my hair, my clothes, and my nostrils.
Mamma’s face turned to mine and caught me off guard. The pain in her eyes held me captive, clawing at my chest. My tear-streaked cheeks and fear forgotten, I grabbed Mamma’s hand and squeezed it.
Sadness in her eyes mirrored what I felt in my chest. Her gray gaze grew wet, like a rainy day over the highest mountains where only clouds were visible.
I fell down to my knees and wrapped my arms around her knees, pressing my forehead into her lap.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Don’t cry, Mamma.”
Her tears hurt worse than Father’s cruelty.
“My poor, poor baby.” She pressed a kiss to my forehead and despite what I knew would happen to me when I walked into the basement, my heart warmed. I was starved for affection. Love. When Mia and Alessio left, they took the tiny bit of happiness we had in the Russo household away with them.
“Mia and Alessio will come back for us,” I rasped, my voice hoarse. “You just wait and see.”
She pressed her frail hand to my heart. “Mia’s dead.”
My lungs closed up. My ears rang. I couldn’t breathe. Mia. Dead.
“A-And Alessio?”
I never got my answer. The door swung open and Father entered the room.
The whisper of his cruel voice and whips invaded my memory, the darkness and cold air sweeping in.
It pulled me deeper and deeper into the blackness and the cold, threatening to swallow me whole.
I shot up into a seated position, waking up with a start, the sheets sticking to my sweaty skin. My chest rose and fell, my heart thundered with the old familiar fear. Catching my breath, I laid back down and stared at the ceiling.
And all the while the scent of citrus lingered in the air.
I finished packing the last of my things.
Honestly, I couldn’t wait to get out of here. Continents apart from my father wasn’t far enough. Shoving the last pair of cute shoes into my suitcase, I sat on it so I could zip it up. Autumn demanded only two suitcases. I was at three.
“Maybe she won’t notice it,” I mused to myself. She was so excited about this, she might not have noticed if I packed five suitcases until we arrived at our first destination, Kuala Lumpur.
Hmmm, tempting.
Deciding against it, I left my bedroom and went in search of my brother. My feet silent against the hardwood, I padded through the hallway of the second floor. He was usually in his office or the library. So that was where I headed.
Going through the itinerary in my mind that Autumn had shared, I already worked up a few landmarks I wanted to use to post pictures on my social platforms. Autumn had an eye for photography, I had a niche for marketing. Together, we were the perfect team.
I was so lost in daydreaming that the scent of stale cigars and old man cologne didn’t register until I was already in the library. A shard of ice shot through my heart and fear crept into the corners of my mind. Darkness morphed into my mind, the old nightmares suddenly fresh.
It didn’t matter how many years had gone by, the old scars surfaced too easily. I’d never told Alessio the extent of the abuse I’d gone through during those two years. I didn’t think he could handle it. And I couldn’t even stand to think about it, never mind talk about it.
Father’s back was to me while he stared out the window and puffed on his cigar. I took a step back, prepared to get the hell out of there when his voice stopped me.
“Always running, little mouse.” He turned from the window and faced me.
Tall frame. Broad shoulders. A dusting of stubble on his chin. Dark hair peppered with gray at the temples. But it was his eyes that ruined it all. The cruelty in them was impossible to hide even when he smiled.
He wore a suit, his one hand shoved in his pocket while he brought a cigar to his lips. He inhaled, then exhaled, the cloud of smoke seeping into my lungs, suffocating.
Fear gripped my throat. It was hard to get over it. It was hard to forget.
He took two steps forward; I took two steps backwards. I wanted to turn around and run, but didn’t want to give Father the satisfaction of knowing how badly he had broken me. I hid it all behind pretty dresses and smiles, but deep down I was still that little scared girl, crying and begging for someone to save me.
Over the years, I learned to hide my fear in front of him. It was easier when other people were around. Honestly, I couldn’t remember the last time I was alone with him. It was something I didn’t care to experience again. Ever!
His eyes traveled over me. I wore simple jean shorts and a pink crew neck top with my hair pulled up in a high ponytail. The weather was still warm enough to enjoy summer clothes and thankfully, this year I’d be gone before the winter weather kicked in.
I hated dark and cold weather. It reminded me of that cold cellar Father liked to use to break my spirit. To train me to be a good and obedient wife.
Rage burned my throat, but unfortunately fear was stronger.
Father’s lips curved into that cruel smile I had come to know so well during those two years alone with him.
“It seems the little mouse is trying to be brave,” he mocked in a dark tone.
“What are you doing here?” Alessio please be home, I prayed. He liked staying in the penthouse and the only reason he had this manor was for me. It was dumb because we could have easily both stayed at the penthouse.
“What do you want?” I asked coldly, hiding my fear somewhere deep down.
His dark eyes flashed. “Watch yourself, mouse. Snakes can easily swallow you whole.”
I scoffed softly. “Your self-comparison to a snake is so fucking appropriate. They are disgusting creatures, but all you need is a shovel and you can cut off their heads so effortlessly.”
Ugly red blotches marred Father’s cheeks and I couldn’t stop a satisfied smile curving my lips. Ah, the small victories.
“You need to be married off,” he spat angrily. “And you need to be taught a lesson. Just like when you were that eight-year-old girl.”
My spine stiffened, the words sliced my heart and let it bleed. Blood dripped to the floor and pooled at my feet, pulling me under into the nightmare.
Dark was closing in on me. Bile rose in my throat. I couldn’t breathe. Terror-filled inferno.
“We’re going to play, little mouse.” His voice was dark, thrilling. The cellar was dark, mold and blood staining the air. “Don’t worry. Your father needs help breaking your spirit.”
I couldn’t breathe. Adrenaline raced through my veins.
Cold fingers in my hair. Rough hands tore at my clothes. My scalp burned as he gripped my hair.
Disgusting shudder rolled over my body. Goosebumps rose on my skin.
Scarred face. Evil eyes.
Slap. Lights flickered behind my eyes and pain exploded in my cheek. I kicked and screamed, my throat raw. My nails raked across his face and he reared back.
“Stop scratching me, you fucking cunt.” His stale, cigar breath invaded my nostrils.
An ugly gash marred his eyes. I hoped he’d turn blind. I hoped he’d die.
Another slap. His cold hands against my burning skin felt like sandpaper, rubbing me raw until I bled.
Pain wrapped around my body. Shreds of ice cut at my lungs.
“Don’t give up,” I told myself, unsure if those were just my thoughts or I was talking out loud. Keep fighting.
So I bit him. And I scratched him. Until my nails cracked and my fingers bled.
“What are you doing here?” Alessio’s voice barked from behind me.
One look at me and his expression turned even darker. He narrowed his eyes on our father. “I told you if you want to talk, you call me. You’re not welcome in this home.”
“Get lost, Branka,” Father barked. “Alessio and I have to talk about the Nikolaev deal.”
“You don’t get to talk to my sister that way.” My brother’s voice was cold. Final. “And there is nothing to discuss on the Nikolaev deal. It’s done and we will honor it.”
“It’s a mistake,” Father claimed stubbornly. “Sasha is Satan’s spawn. Destruction follows wherever he goes.”
“You’re scared to deal with him,” Alessio stated matter-of-factly. “His psychotic ways bother you. If you think about it, it’s kind of ironic.”
I turned on my heel and left the room. I couldn’t stand to be in the same city, never mind the same room, as my father.
Though as I rushed back to my room and locked the door behind me, I liked Sasha Nikolaev more than I had an hour ago. He might not be a knight. Definitely not a hero.
But he was scary enough to chase ghosts away. He was scary enough to keep my father away.
I’d keep my promise, as long as he kept his.
