19. CHIARA

“You wanna get out of here, Lara?” my boss asks with a ridiculous smirk across his face, one that I’ve become all too accustomed to over the past few years working in his run-down bar.

He’s called me Lara since the day I started, and after telling him a billion times that my name is Chiara, it eventually became a running joke. Since then, the name has stuck.

“I thought you needed me to close,” I ask, positive I was on the late shift tonight.

“Nah, it’s all good. Give yourself an early night,” he says. “It’s quiet. I’m gonna close up early.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Finish up what you’re doing and get out of here,” he says, reaching for a discarded glass on the bar. “Hell, maybe even enjoy your weekend for a change. Fuck knows you need it.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help feeling grateful. I’m behind on three assessments, and while an extra few hours isn’t going to help that much, it means I can get to bed earlier, have a decent night’s sleep, and spend all weekend trying to smash them out.

I’m so close. Only one more year of college and I’ll be free. I can get a proper job with decent pay and maybe even save some cash for a better life, but I can’t slip yet. Twelve more months until everything changes. I can practically feel the optimism burning inside of me.

After closing out my register and grabbing my bag from under the bar, I take off. It’s a little after ten, and I can’t help but smile to myself as I make my way down the street. I never get to leave this early. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job and the tips it brings in, and not having the extra tips from a busy night tonight is going to suck, but getting to leave early for a change is too good of an opportunity to skip out on. I’m usually the first to raise my hand for a close shift. The other girls prefer getting out early so they can have a life, but unfortunately, I don’t have one of those, so I don’t mind the late shift. I usually get off work at one in the morning, but most of the customers are gone by eleven, so I spend two hours with my face shoved in textbooks while filling the occasional beer. It’s perfect for me.

It’s a short walk, and on a good night, I’m usually home in eight minutes. When the bar has been crazy busy, and I’ve been run off my feet, crawling home can then take up to thirteen minutes, but tonight, I’m flying.

My attention is locked on my phone, scrolling through anything I’ve missed on social media over the past few hours, and surprise, surprise, there’s not a lot to hold my focus.

My gaze shifts to the busy road, and I take in one of the bars that’s a little closer to the college campus. This bar is always packed, and while I feel for the girls working the bar, I can’t help but feel a little jealous. Their tips must be insane.

A scowl stretches across my face, and as I turn the corner, I do what I can to put it out of my mind. I’m lucky to have my job. While the tips aren’t incredible, they’re still considered good, and that’s more than I could ask for.

As I get closer to my shitty little apartment, I dig through my bag for my keys, passing under the one streetlight that’s been out since before I even moved here. Everything darkens as shadows stretch out across the road, and I can’t help but notice the random guy leaning up against the neighboring apartment complex.

I meet his eye for a moment, hoping like fuck this guy doesn’t intend to try something, but when he looks away, seeming bored and disinterested, I let out a soft sigh of relief.

Continuing on my way, I keep searching for my keys, feeling around every crevice of my bag, when I hear a scuffle behind me. My brows furrow, and I whip around to find the man launching toward me. My eyes widen in horror, and I suck in a deep breath, preparing to scream, but before I can make a single sound, he clamps one hand over my mouth as his other arm locks around me, keeping my arms pinned to my side.

My heart races as fear pounds heavily through my veins, and I do what I can to fight back, scratching the asshole’s arms as I desperately try to fight for my freedom. Fear-filled tears spring from my eyes when he starts dragging me backward. “Scream and I’ll fucking kill you right here, you little bitch.”

What the fuck?

What the hell does he want with me?

My attempts to fight are useless as his arm tightens like a boa constrictor around me, threatening to squeeze the life out of me. I can barely move or breathe when a blacked-out van screeches to a stop on the sidewalk. “Hurry up,” the asshole seethes as the back sliding door tears open, revealing another three men inside.

No. No. No. This can’t be happening.

I’m dragged toward the van as my panic begins to overwhelm me. He shoves me toward the door, and I kick my foot up against the side of the van, refusing with every last bit of strength I possess, but it’s not nearly enough as he pulls me back just out of reach of the van and tries again, only this time he throws me around like a ragdoll.

The men inside hastily reach for me, their fingers digging into my skin as I cry out in agony. They work together with the man on the street to get me inside the van, and before I know it, I’m thrown down on the hard ground.

“Go. Go. Go,” someone yells out as I scramble to sit up and find my bearings, only as I do, I come face-to-face with the man from the street. His eyes are impossibly dark, filled with pure evil, and as he grins at me, my stomach coils.

A hand clamps over my mouth, and my eyes spring open to find myself in the darkness of my bedroom in Killian’s home. I’m covered in sweat, my heart racing as consciousness brings the agony of my body to the forefront of my mind.

Something weighs down on the bed beside me as I try to suck in a breath, but it’s almost impossible with the hand clamped over my mouth. I try to make out the person sitting on my bed, but it’s too dark to make out any features, though judging by the size of the hand and the heavy weight on the bed, it’s a man, and considering the scent of his cologne, it’s not Killian.

“Even try to scream, and I will make your life a fucking misery,” the familiar chilling tone rumbles through my room. “Do you understand me?”

Sergiu.

Fuck.

Tears fill my eyes, and I can’t work out if it’s fear from having him in my room or the panic of having to relive the night that asshole snatched me off the side of the street—the same nightmare which haunts me every time I close my eyes.

Trying to make out Sergiu’s stare through the darkness, I nod while trying to figure out what the hell he wants. I kept his dirty little secret. I didn’t tell a soul about what he did, so why is he here? If he was planning on fucking me, he wouldn’t have bothered to warn me about my silence.

No, this asshole is here to talk. But why?

The weight of his hand pressing down on my split lip aches, and I immediately taste the blood in my mouth, but I do what I can to ignore the pain, determined to save my strength in case I need it.

My eyes finally adjust to the darkness, and I can just make out the too-sharp features of his face when he hesitantly lifts his hand off my mouth. I suck in a deep breath. “I don’t like you,” he states as though it was a secret.

“The feeling is mutual.”

Fury flashes in his deadly stare, and without warning, I’m torn from my bed, a tight hand locking around my throat as I’m thrown against the wall. Sergiu leans into me, and I smell the stench of his hot breath against my skin.

“Foolish girl,” he spits, keeping his tone low as my whole body violently shakes. “If you think being Killian’s little pet is enough to keep you protected, you are sorely mistaken.”

His other hand jabs against my ribs, right where his wife kicked me with her ridiculous designer heels, and I whimper under the pain, but I won’t dare succumb to this asshole. His wife has already stolen my dignity, and after his last visit to my bedroom, I won’t allow him to get the best of me again. “I am not mistaken. I have no illusion of what you could do to me. However, it seems you’re the only foolish one here tonight,” I say while struggling to take a deep breath. “It is clear your loyalty is to yourself, and if you ask me, as Killian’s second-in-command, that’s the deepest betrayal one could possibly commit in this world. But ask yourself, where do his loyalties lie? If he were to discover what you did here in this room last week or if I accidentally slipped up and gave the name of the woman who put her hands on me tonight, what would he do? Would he have your back, or mine?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he spits.

I arch a brow and hold his ferocious stare. “Don’t I?”

“You even think about running that mouth of yours—”

“You’ll what?” I challenge. “If I run my mouth and tell him everything you and your bitch of a wife have done to me, you’ll both be dead before you could even think about laying another hand on me. Time to face the facts, Sergiu. You’ve put yourself in a position where your fate now lies in the palm of my hands, and the more you threaten me, the more inclined I am to . . . slip.”

Sergiu clenches his jaw, and fury flashes in his eyes. Without warning, he rears back, and in a flash, his hand slaps hard across my face. I cry out in shock as my cheek burns from the hit. “This is not a war you want to start, girl,” he spits.

“Careful now,” I warn. “You’re threatening Killian’s wife.”

His hand clenches harder around my throat, completely cutting off my airway, but I don’t falter as I hold his putrid stare. My lungs begin to scream for oxygen, and just as I start to see dark spots dancing in my vision, he releases me. I drop heavily to the ground, gasping for air.

Tears fill my eyes, and I watch as Sergiu turns on his heel and stalks out of my room, my heart racing with every step he takes. In a flash, he’s gone, and my body finally relaxes.

Holy fuck. That was stupid.

What was I thinking challenging him like that? If I allowed him to believe he could continue walking all over me, he would have never seen me as a threat. He would have believed that I was too afraid to ever open my mouth, but now . . .

I openly just threatened his and his wife’s existence, and what’s worse, I based it all on the hope that Killian would have my back—a man that I haven’t even known for two weeks—over the man who stands as his second-in-command. He grew up with Sergiu. The man is his own flesh and blood.

What the fuck was I thinking?

Grabbing the edge of my bed, I haul myself back to my feet and drop my ass onto the mattress when a soft knock sounds at my door. My back stiffens, and I desperately search the bedside table for something I can use as a weapon when the door opens and Killian strides in. “Chiara?” he asks, hovering by the door. “Everything okay? I thought I heard something in here.”

This is my chance. I can tell him everything that just went down and both Sergiu and Monica will be names I’ll never have to think of again, and yet, I can’t bring myself to open my mouth. If I talk, two people’s lives are on the line, and I don’t know if I can stomach that burden.

Feeling the weight of this decision resting on my shoulders, I force a small smile across my face, hating the concern in his dark eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I tell him. “Bad dream.”

Killian nods and strides further into my room before plucking the glass of water off my bedside table. He hands it to me before dropping down in front of me, his warm hands resting on my thighs. “Have some water, Angel. It will help.”

Not wanting to disappoint him, I take small sips until half the glass is gone before handing it back to him. He puts the glass back where it was, right on top of the small circle of condensation the glass had already begun to form. Only he doesn’t leave, he remains right there in front of me, his deep eyes locked onto mine. “Was it about your time at the auction house?”

My brows furrow and he goes on to clarify. “Your dream.”

“Oh, umm . . . no. Well, kind of. It was about the night I was snatched off the street. I tend to dream about that night a lot, but in hindsight, the time at the auction house was worse. If anything, you’d think those were the memories that would play on repeat every night.”

“Not necessarily. The night you were taken was the night everything changed. Your mind didn’t know it needed to be on alert, so the adrenaline and fear would have been a shock to your system. By the time you made it to the auction house, you were already aware of your surroundings, so you may have felt that same fear and adrenaline, but you were already in survival mode. While you remember those things, your unconscious mind is working overtime to block it out.”

I nod and lift my gaze to meet his. “You really think that’s true?”

“I have no reason to doubt it,” he tells me. “I have been through many unforgiving circumstances, and if the only scars you bear are those on your unconscious mind, then I consider you lucky.”

I swallow hard and really look at him, seeing the depth within his eyes. “Here I am whining about a bad dream to a man who has no doubt suffered through so much worse.”

Killian reaches up and cups the side of my face, and I instinctively lean into him. “Everybody’s trauma is different,” he murmurs. “It’s what sets us apart from one another, and what happened at the gala tonight is the first of many stepping stones that will pave your way to greatness. When you survive the unthinkable, others begin to fear the strength you possess, and that strength is the greatest power you will ever know.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think I’m capable of that kind of strength.”

“Don’t doubt yourself, Angel. You are. I’ve seen it, and one day, you will see it too.”

Killian stands and inches back to the door before turning back and meeting my stare. “Get some rest, Chiara. You will feel better in the morning.”

I nod, and with that, Killian slips out of my room, leaving me to contemplate his words. When you survive the unthinkable, others begin to fear the strength you possess, and that strength is the greatest power you will ever know. I’m not sure about the power part, but I sure as hell have survived the unthinkable. I survived a human trafficking ring. I survived Sergiu, and now his wife, and despite all of that, I remain right here, ready to earn my position at Killian’s side.

I’m not running, and I sure as hell don’t want to hide. Perhaps this is the strength Killian was speaking of. Either way, I have shown that I’m not some problem that can be swept under the rug. I’m here to stay, and if Sergiu and Monica have a problem with it, then they better prepare themselves, because I’m not going down without a fight.

I intend to rise up and be the woman Killian believes I can be, and as for Monica, that’s the last time she’ll ever put her hands on me. Next time—and I don’t doubt there will be a next time—I’ll be ready.

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