3. Maxim
Chapter 3
Maxim
T he next five days pass by with little interference, and it leaves me edgy and more than a little worried. I’m painfully aware that every three meals means one more day has passed, one more day closer to the deadline Lorenzo has given before he makes good on his threat against Talia.
Every time I think about them abusing her, I feel like I’m going to be sick. This may not be how I imagined meeting the love of my life, but there’s no denying that I have. I remember my dad telling me that as soon as he’d seen my mom, he knew she was the one. He’d been trying to find the Bratva responsible for kidnapping my Aunt Alina, and it had led him and my uncles to an auction that was taking place. My dad had secured an invite, and my mom just happened to be one of the women for sale. She’d been abducted on a trip to Romania after her parents died, and my dad immediately knew he had to save her. He bought her, brought her to the penthouse he shared with my uncles, and then very quickly decided he couldn’t let her go.
I felt the same way when I got my first glimpse of Talia. It was like hearing the most beautiful nocturne. I’d been pulled from the concrete basement and transported somewhere else entirely, and for a few precious moments I’d forgotten about the pain I was in and the fear I had about Val being hurt. It’s the same feeling I get when I play the piano, like an out-of-body experience. She’s the only person to ever make me feel like that, and there’s no way I can allow anything to happen to her.
“You’re awfully quiet today.”
I smile and turn my head at the sound of her voice. We’re finishing up our lunch, and the light is still on, letting me see the face that brings me more comfort than she can possibly know. I know she worries that she’s filthy, but when I look at her, I don’t see a girl who hasn’t had a proper shower in over a month. I see her sweet smile, the cute button nose she has, the light dusting of freckles along her cheeks, and the most gorgeous dark eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re almond-shaped with long, dark lashes, and she somehow manages to express so much emotion in them. I learned at a young age to hide behind a mask. Joining our family’s Bratva at eighteen taught me many things, one of which is that anything you show on your face can be used against you. Give your enemy nothing, and they’ll have nothing to use against you.
That’s proving to be a lot harder for me to do since having met Talia. I don’t know what I’m going to do if they hurt her. It’ll kill me to see it happen, and I’ll never forgive myself for not being able to stop it.
“Sorry,” I finally say and then gently nudge her plate, reminding her to keep eating. Every time they bring our plates in, I make sure I’m the one who grabs them so I can sneak a few extra pieces onto her plate before I hand it to her.
“Try not to worry about it,” she tells me, and then raises a brow at the half-hearted laugh I give. “I’m being serious. No matter what happens, we’ll figure out a way to get through it.”
“Nothing is going to happen,” I say, hoping my conviction will help make it true. “Surely one of our families will be here to rescue us by then.” I give her a soft smile. “They sure are taking their sweet time about it, and I’ll be sure and tell them that as soon as they bust through that door.”
“They are,” she agrees with a smile pulling the corner of her mouth up. “I mean, it’s not like we’re hidden away somewhere in the deepest part of Colombia.”
“You can probably find it on Google Maps. I’ll be sure and ask my brother why he never thought to look there.”
Her smile grows before she takes another bite of food. I can’t imagine not having her here with me, but I’d give anything if I could magically whisk her somewhere far away. I eat the last bite of my lunch while I watch her finish up hers, making sure she eats everything and then drinks half the bottle of water. I try to get her to drink more, but she refuses to cut into my ration.
When we’re both finished, she rests her head against my shoulder and starts teaching me the newest batch of signs. I’m intrigued by ASL, and I’m in awe of how graceful she makes the movements look. I’m not used to my fingers feeling clumsy, but there’s an obvious difference between the fluid movements Talia makes and my awkward beginner’s fingers.
“You make it look so pretty,” I tell her, trying to read the sentence she’s fingerspelling for me.
“I’ve been doing it pretty much my whole life. My parents hired a live-in tutor to teach us, and the rest of our family would come over for lessons. It took the adults a lot longer to learn,” she says with a grin. “Bran and I would come up with our own signs for things, and it used to drive everyone crazy.” She laughs at the memory, and I smile at the image that comes to mind.
“How long did your tutor live with you?”
“Long enough for one of my dad’s top men to fall completely in love with her. After that, she kept teaching us, but she no longer slept at our house. Ilya doesn’t live far away on the property so it all worked out. I’m glad they got married because now we still get to see her all the time. She’s really sweet, and she was always so patient with us, and when Bran couldn’t communicate at all, it was Lily who helped him to not be scared. She told him that his name means Raven in Irish, and she introduced us to Celtic mythology. We loved it when she’d sign us stories before bed about Bran mac Feabhail and his voyage to the Otherworld.”
She lets out a soft laugh at the memory. “He’s loved ravens ever since, has several of them tattooed on his body, and it’s in his name sign.”
I watch as she signs the letter B, keeping it close to her mouth before bringing her thumb and index finger together in a couple of quick taps, almost like a bird beak opening and closing. I copy it, and she smiles.
As a pianist, I can’t imagine my life without sound, but from everything Talia’s told me, Bran seems like he handled everything exceedingly well.
“Do you know who his birth parents were?”
“No, we never could figure out who they were. My mom runs a women’s shelter in the city, and someone left Bran outside of it one day. She saw him peeking in through the window, and when she went out to invite him and his mom in, it was just him—three years old, way too thin, dirty clothes, and scared to death of everything and everyone.”
“Who would do that?” I ask, not even able to imagine a scenario where I’d ever let my son go.
“I don’t know. I heard my parents talking about it later. The security footage showed a white sedan pulling up at the curb. Bran gets out, and they quickly drive off. The plates were stolen, and the driver’s face is concealed behind a ski mask. When I got older, I was furious on his behalf for a long time, but then I started thinking that maybe the driver was his mom and she felt this was her only option. I don’t know. I try to give her the benefit of the doubt.”
“You’re very sweet,” I tell her, and she lets out a small huff of air.
“No, I’m not. I just really love my brother and can’t imagine my life without him. If she hadn’t dropped him off, then he wouldn’t be a part of my family, so really I’m just selfish.”
I take her hand and squeeze it. “You’re not selfish. You are a really great sister, though.”
“Bran’s come to peace with it. Well, as much as he can, but I know he still wonders about who his birth parents were. The police did an investigation, but if our Bratva couldn’t find anything, then we knew there was no way in hell they’d be able to.”
“Did your parents have a hard time getting the adoption approved?”
“No. They didn’t have anyone contesting it, and the system is already overflowing with kids who need homes. My dad can look presentable when he needs to,” she says with a laugh. “They hired an amazing lawyer, and the suit my dad wore covered up most of his tattoos. I think maybe some bribes were made. My parents were willing to do whatever it took to adopt Bran and bring him into our family.”
I can’t help but wonder if Bran will like me. He and Talia are obviously close, and I’m guessing if Bran doesn’t give his approval, it’ll make Talia think twice about me.
When I’m quiet for several more minutes, Talia asks, “What are you thinking about?”
“I’m wondering if Bran will like me.”
She tilts her head so she can smile up at me. “Of course he will.”
“But will he approve of me dating his sister?”
A pink blush spreads up her cheeks. “Are we dating, Max?”
I laugh and wave a hand at the room we’re in. “We’re already living together, Talia.”
She smiles and leans her head back against my shoulder so I can’t see her when she confesses, “I’ve never dated anyone.”
“Me either.”
This time her laugh is more of a disbelieving huff. “I think we’re thinking of two different things.”
Confused, I ask, “What do you mean?”
I swear her cheeks blush an even deeper pink when she says, “I’m including just hooking up with someone when I say I’ve never dated anyone.”
Unable to hide my grin, I say, “Me, too.”
She pops her head up, too stunned to keep still. Her dark eyes study my face, and I swear my own face heats up a bit at the shock on hers. “Are you being serious?”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t lie to you,” I tell her.
“How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-one,” I tell her. “You?”
“Same.” She studies my face again, looking for any sign that I’m teasing her, but when she doesn’t find any, she says, “You and I both know how protected the wives and daughters are in a Bratva, so my lack of experience isn’t all that surprising, but yours doesn’t make any sense.”
“How so?” I ask.
“Oh, come on, Max.” She shakes her head and then goes back to resting it on my shoulder. “Don’t insult me by playing stupid.”
“Hey, look at me.” I wait until she lifts her head back up, and when she does, I cup her face and keep my eyes on hers. “The truth is that I’ve never done anything with anyone because I never met anyone that makes me feel the way you do. I wasn’t willing to settle for anything less.”
Her words are whisper soft when she asks, “Anything less than what?”
I smile as my thumb strokes her cheek. “Would you agree that there are a lot of attractive people in the world? I mean, it’s not that hard to find a pretty face. We’re surrounded by them thanks to the media and everyone’s obsession with famous people, but it’s also not hard to find an attractive person just out and about.”
“True,” she says, and the hesitant tone makes it clear she’s not sure where I’m going with this.
“The point I’m trying to make is that a pretty face is really not all that rare. What’s rare is when another person makes your whole body light up when you see them.”
Her gaze softens as I stroke her face again and add, “When I look at you, I hear so many different notes, so many bars of music that I can’t wait to write down and play. That’s rare, svetik moy . I’ve never once experienced anything close to that.” I give a soft shrug. “I was waiting for someone to knock me on my ass.” I lean in and kiss her forehead. “You knocked me on my ass, Talia.”
“Maybe you just have Stockholm Syndrome,” she says, making me laugh.
“Then I’d be telling all this to Miguel, and that’s not about to happen. I refuse to whisper sweet words to that fucking bastard.”
She smiles and softly shakes her head. “He doesn’t deserve them.”
“He doesn’t,” I agree, “and he doesn’t make me hear music when I look at him. That’s all you.”
“You hear music when you look at me?”
She seems surprised by what I’ve said, and the sweet smile she’s giving me inspires a brand-new chord to the song I’m slowly composing.
“I do. I’ve never had a muse before, but you’re inspiring one hell of a song.”
She smiles even bigger. “I am?”
“You are. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever created before.”
“What’s it sound like?”
I give a soft laugh at her eager curiosity and trace the line of her jaw with my thumb. “It’s not ready yet. You can hear it when I’m done.”
“You’ll play it for me?”
“If you want to hear it, yes,” I tell her.
“Of course I do,” she quickly says. “You promise you’ll play it for me?”
I smile and graze my thumb beneath her bottom lip. “I promise I’ll play it for you. I’ll always compose songs for you, Talia, and I’ll play them for you whenever you want.”
Her dark eyes glisten, and I’m just about to press my lips to hers when the door opens, forcing us to part so she can scoot away from me. I recognize Miguel’s cruel laugh, and my heart races at the sound of it. He hasn’t come in here to beat me in three days, but when I turn my face to look at him, I can tell by the crazed look in his eyes that he’s about to make up for lost time. His eyes turn to Talia. He gives her a wink as he cups the front of his pants.
I hear her sharp intake of breath, and I tell her in Russian, “It’s only been five days. He’s just trying to scare you.”
“It’s working,” she whispers back.
I want to sigh in relief when I see Mateo walk in. Miguel needs a short leash, and Mateo is the only one who seems to be able to keep him on one. Juan and Jose step up beside Miguel, and Lorenzo is the last to enter our suddenly cramped basement.
“I haven’t heard from your dad yet,” Lorenzo says, cutting right to the chase. He’s pissed, and the kind of anger radiating off of him has warning bells going off in my head.
“It hasn’t been a whole week, though,” Talia starts to say, but he’s already shaking his head. “I’m sure he’ll get in touch with you before the time limit is up. He won’t risk having you hurt me.”
The fear in her voice cuts me to the quick. My eyes dart around the room. Juan, Miguel, and Jose are to my left, armed and not letting their guards down, Mateo is to the right of Talia, face unreadable as he watches his dad, and Lorenzo is looking at the woman I love like he’s about to do something that’s going to break a part of me that won’t ever be fixed.
“Wait,” I say, trying to reason with him. “If you do this, it’ll start a war. Her dad will never let this go. You will have a target on your back for the rest of your life.”
“The Bratva is no threat to me. I’m going to destroy your Bratvas. I tried to do this the easy way, but neither one of them is willing to compromise, so now we do it the hard way.”
“What way is that?” Talia whispers, and I want to beg her to take the question back when Lorenzo gives her a cold smile and says, “The way that has you bleeding all over my cock, sweetheart, for all the world to see.”
“No,” she whispers as Miguel takes out his phone, getting ready to film what’s about to happen.
“And then my cartel is going to go hunting,” Lorenzo says.
I struggle against my chain when Juan comes up and punches me in the jaw. It’s a hard enough hit to stun me long enough for Miguel to unchain Talia and drag her to the center of the room. She struggles against him, but it’s useless. There’s no way she can fight her way out of this. Seeing her small, defenseless body surrounded by these monsters has rage flooding through every part of my body. I pull on the chain I’m connected to, ignoring the way the metal from the handcuffs digs into my wrists.
“Don’t hurt her,” I yell. “Don’t you fucking touch her!”
Lorenzo laughs and fists her hair, roughly pulling her head back as he looks at me. “Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?”
I pull on the cuffs, trying to wrench my hands free, but I know it’s useless. I’ve tortured enough men to know it’s impossible to get out of a tight pair of handcuffs. In the movies, men will break their thumbs and wiggle their hands free. It’s absolute bullshit. The body doesn’t work that way. There’s no scenario where I’m able to break my thumb and slide my hand free. The only way my arm is getting out of this is if I cut my hand off. If I had a knife sharp enough to do that, I’d be throwing it at Lorenzo’s head and putting an end to all of this.
“I’ll do anything you want,” I say, meaning every word of it. My loyalty is to my family, and I won’t ever betray them, but I can’t allow him to use Talia like this. “I can convince my family to work with you. I’m willing to bet that I can also convince her family to work with you as well. I can explain how serious you are.” I try my best to bullshit him, but a man like him has heard it all before. I keep trying, though, because letting this continue isn’t an option.
“Please,” I beg, willing to put my pride aside to save her. “I’ll do anything.”
“I’m not into men,” he tells me, “but it does seem a shame to waste such a perfect filming opportunity.”
Talia sobs and keeps her eyes on mine as Lorenzo says something to Miguel in Spanish. Miguel flips through his phone, finding whatever he’s looking for. He taps on the screen, and the song that echoes around the concrete room is like a smack to the face. I recognize it instantly. It was my final assignment for my music class in high school. I composed a song and played it for my teacher. I had no idea anyone recorded it, but someone must have because the unmistakeable sound of me playing is still filtering into the room.
“Beautiful,” Lorenzo says, lifting the corner of his mouth in a smirk. He reaches down and wraps his hand around Talia’s neck, roughly hauling her to her feet. With her back pressed against the front of his body, he keeps her pinned against him as his hand slides down her stomach to cup her between the legs. Talia sobs even louder, trying to break free from his grip as tears run down her face.
“How bad do you want to save her?” he asks, squeezing her even tighter.
“I said I’ll do anything,” I tell him.
“Hands are very important to a pianist, aren’t they?” He laughs at the way my eyes widen in horror. “Still want to be a hero?”
A hero is the last thing I am, but protecting her is important to me. The need to keep her safe is so strong that I raise my eyes to Lorenzo’s and say, “Yes.”
Talia sobs my name while the men in the room all give a soft laugh. Everyone except Mateo. He’s watching his dad with a stony expression and a tightness to his jaw. It makes me instantly dread what’s about to happen. Whatever it is, Mateo doesn’t approve.
“Your hand for protecting her virginity,” Lorenzo says, and I feel the world shift under my feet, nearly knocking me back on my ass. I’m so stunned and horrified by the proposition that it takes me a second to find my voice.
“What?” I whisper the question into the room, ignoring the cruel laugh Miguel gives at the horror that’s clearly still written all over my face.
Lorenzo keeps his hand between Talia’s legs, completely ignoring the fact that she’s crying and shaking so badly it’s only his firm hold on her that’s keeping her upright, and says, “Miguel will dislocate every finger in one hand, or me and my men will fuck your girl until she can’t walk.” He smiles and adds, “I’ll make it easy for you and we’ll take her out of the room to do it. You won’t even have to watch.”
He’s such a fucking bastard that he thinks that will sway my decision, that I’m such a coward I’d throw her to the wolves, and as long as I don’t have to see the abuse, I can ignore it. Well, fuck him and his entire fucking cartel. It’s never going to happen. My hand will heal, hopefully enough for me to play again, but Talia will never recover from this, and I’d never forgive myself for allowing her to endure it.
“Fine,” I tell him while Talia sobs and shakes her head at me.
In Russian, she says, “Don’t do it, Max. I can survive it. I know I can. I don’t want to be the one responsible for taking your music from you.”
I meet her dark eyes, trying to not let her see how terrified I am of what’s about to happen. “I can’t let them hurt you. My hand will heal.”
“Please don’t do this,” she begs.
I watch her thrash against Lorenzo, begging me to let her undergo a horror that deep down we both know she’d never survive. Even if she could mentally overcome it, the physical damage of being brutally taken by so many men would be the end of her. No medical attention and a diet that’s not even close to supplying everything she needs means she’d be going into this in a weakened state and already at a severe disadvantage. I know the cruelty men are capable of, and I’m guessing her family has protected her as best they can. What she’s imagining in her head isn’t even close to what Lorenzo is threatening to do to her.
She doesn’t understand what she’s begging me to allow, so I make the choice for her, and say again, “I agree to the deal. You leave her alone in exchange for my hand.”
Lorenzo laughs and shoves her towards Mateo, who quickly grabs onto her before she can fall. She struggles against him to get to me, but he tightens his grip, refusing to let her go.
“Brave man,” Lorenzo taunts. “Let’s see if you regret your choice.”
I’ll never regret my choice, but I don’t bother telling him that. Men like him will never understand the sacrifice I’m making. The truth is I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to use my hand again after they’re through with it. I can’t imagine my life without music, without being able to play the notes that are always in my head. The mere thought of it makes me feel like I can’t breathe, like an integral part of myself is about to be taken from me.
I’m terrified, more scared than I’ve ever been in my life, and my body starts to shake when Miguel walks over to me. Juan and Jose come to restrain me while Lorenzo watches over everything, a cruel smile playing at his lips as he aims his phone at me to record what’s about to happen. Mateo says something to him in Spanish, but he barely spares his son a glance, waving off his words with a sharp retort that I don’t understand a word of. If he was pleading for mercy on my behalf, it was obviously denied.
My wrists are still cuffed when the two men grab my arms. They shove me to my knees and pin me between them. Miguel smiles down at me and then points at first my left hand and then my right, like he’s debating which one to ruin. I’m right-handed, so if I have a choice, I’d rather lose the left. I’m not at all surprised when he grabs the right one. He isn’t content to just cause damage—he wants to break me, destroy me piece by piece until there’s nothing left. What he’s about to do is going to be far worse than any beating he’s given me. He knows it, and I know it. The sick, excited glint in his eyes confirms it when he grabs onto my index finger.
The anticipation has sweat beading on my forehead. I try to brace myself for what’s about to happen, but when he quickly twists my finger, popping it out of alignment, a guttural scream tears from my lungs that I’m unable to control. I thought I knew pain, but I was wrong. This is unlike anything I’ve ever known, unlike anything that I ever thought was possible. I barely register the sound of Talia’s screams as I try to catch my breath. My mind refuses to accept the fact that I have four more fingers to go. I don’t know how I’ll fucking survive it.
When he dislocates my middle finger, I taste vomit in the back of my throat and nearly pass out. Tears stream down my face. It’s impossible not to cry. The pain is too all-consuming. It radiates through my fingers and up my arm—a relentless, excruciating sensation that makes it impossible for me to focus on anything other than my ruined fingers. My world narrows down to one thing and one thing only—complete and utter agony.
If they hadn’t put me on my knees, I would’ve already fallen to the floor. Even now it’s only Juan and Jose that are keeping me upright. My whole body is trying to collapse in on itself to protect my hand, but the two men are refusing to give me any relief.
To dislocate my ring finger, Miguel holds onto my forearm and roughly pulls on my finger, using enough force to pop it out of alignment. He laughs while I let out another yell that leaves my throat sore and my breathing ragged. I can feel my hand swelling, the metal of the cuffs digging even harder into my skin. The sob that escapes my lips when I feel him grabbing onto my pinkie finger is one born of absolute desperation, a primal response, the sound a plea for mercy when my mind can no longer form words. Language is beyond my comprehension right now. There’s nothing but sensation. A raw, unyielding agony that has Miguel giving another laugh before he wrenches my pinkie finger back. The audible pop of the dislocation is a sickening sound that I will never forget as long as I live. It will haunt me until the day I die.
I dry heave as nausea hits me hard, and when he reaches for my thumb, I know I’m seconds away from passing out. My head lolls back, and I hear Mateo’s voice like he’s yelling from a distance. All I want is to pass out, but my body hangs on, ignoring my desperate pleas to let the darkness overtake me.
The hands on my arms loosen, letting me go as I crumple to the floor. I cradle my arm to my chest, groaning when I get a better look at my hand. He’s ruined it, completely and utterly destroyed it. My fingers are twisted and bent at wrong angles, and it’s so swollen I barely recognize it. In seconds, Talia is next to me, her face hovering over mine as her tears hit my cheeks, mixing with my own before falling to the cement floor.
“The handcuffs,” she yells. “His wrist is swelling. Please, you have to take it off.”
She begs on my behalf while I drift in and out of consciousness. I feel pressure on my arm as Mateo squats down and unlocks the cuff on my right wrist. I’m sure it hurts when he removes it, but I’m in so much pain that I can’t distinguish where it’s coming from. My eyes start to roll to the back of my head, but I force myself to stay awake. As much as I want the escape unconsciousness will bring me, I don’t want to leave Talia alone with these men.
Mateo’s dark eyes meet mine, and before he stands back up, he says just loud enough for me to hear, “I didn’t want this to happen.”
Even if I wanted to respond, I’m unable to do so. The pain is growing in intensity, a thing I didn’t think was possible, and the swelling is getting worse, too. The skin around my joints is a bright red, and I can’t imagine my hand ever working properly again. A moan escapes when I think about a life without music.
“I’m so sorry,” Talia whispers, leaning down and resting her forehead against mine. “I’m so sorry, Max.”
The lights shut off a second later before I hear the door close.
There’s nothing but darkness and pain and the sound of Talia’s sweet voice begging me for forgiveness.