Prologue 2-Mia/Maria
PROLOGUE 2-MIA/MARIA
A few weeks later.
I’m standing outside in the cold with my mother sobbing beside me. It’s January, the coldest month of the year in the Garden State.
The ground is almost too hard for the machinery to dig a proper grave. I feel numb. Alone. And scared.
My father is dead.
Just another statistic, killed in some random accident.
At least, that’s what they told me and my mother. I can’t help the thoughts in my head.
Enrico Sanchez and his two remaining sons are standing opposite me and my mother. He looks older, this man who has so much power.
Maybe the death of his favorite son is taking its toll.
I don’t know. I am numb today.
They don’t say anything.
Not exactly.
But it’s the way Matteo keeps looking at me that leaves me uneasy.
My father is, was , a well-known man.
An important man.
That means the funeral is packed.
I tug my black coat tighter around me and shiver against the cold.
None of this feels real.
As we make our way from the graveside to the limo waiting for us, I help Mami inside first.
Then Enrico Sanchez steps in front of me.
“Allow me to accompany your mother, nena . We have much to discuss,” he says.
I look at my mother, and she’s almost catatonic.
I want to refuse, but I can’t.
This man scares me.
I look around at the dozen or more soldiers in all black, their jackets bulging with what I can only guess are weapons, and I shiver.
No, I can’t refuse him. He’s the boss and I’m just the daughter of his dead general.
“You can ride with me,” Matteo says, and before I can protest, Enrico Sanchez’s son grabs my arm and tugs me towards a large blacked out SUV.
“Get in,” he says with a slight shove.
I climb in.
I have no choice.
But I don’t know what he will try to do on the short ride to my house.
I sit as close to the door as I can and try to make myself small.
Matteo is the kind of man who even though he is only five foot six, needs to feel big. I’m five foot nine.
I know this pisses him off.
“Look, Mia, I know you had feelings for Carmine, and I’m sorry for your loss,” he says, but he sounds anything but sorry.
“Thank you,” I reply.
He scowls at me. Matteo looks mad that I interrupted him, so I close my lips tighter.
“You should know, my brother wasn’t half the man I am. I’m gonna take good care of you,” he says, and his meaning is clear.
I back up as far as I can into the door.
But it’s no use.
Matteo is fast for a small man.
He grabs my thigh with a bruising grip and pulls me towards him.
Next, he presses his hard mouth to mine and I feel his tongue lick the seam of my lips.
I don’t open them.
I struggle against him. He grabs my arms, and it is too hard. He is hurting me.
“Stop, please,” I beg, and it is the wrong thing to do.
He pulls my hair and licks the side of my face till his mouth is by my ear.
“Why should I stop, you little whore? You’re mine now. You got no man. No father. No one to fight for you. I am all you have, and I’m willing to give you my name. That’s it struggle. Run. Hide. I will always find you,” he says, and it is like that turns him on.
Shock hits me like a slap to the face. Confusion, too. I stop struggling and look into his dead shark-like eyes.
“Your name? What are you talking about?” I ask as I lean away from his hold.
But Matteo does not let me move.
He just keeps coming. He’s insistent. And he’s strong.
I know he can overpower me, so I try to keep him talking.
I can feel his hardness against my side as he kneels and tries to kiss me again, and it is revolting.
“You were gonna marry my brother, I can take his place,” he says.
“What? I wasn’t going to marry him, Matteo. We barely knew each other.”
“My father already agreed.”
“I’m sorry, but your father doesn’t tell me who I’m going to marry,” I scoff, and shake my head.
“Ha! You don’t know shit about life, nena . Enrico Sanchez makes the rules. And I am his son. I get what I want. Now hold still,” he grunts, and grabs my face harshly.
Then he kisses me again and squeezes my breast painfully hard with his other hand.
Bile fills my throat.
I wonder if he’s going to rape me, but thankfully, the SUV stops.
I look out the window to see we’re at my house. I open the door and fall out to my knees. Tears stain my cheeks, and I wipe at them, not sure what is actually happening.
Is this real?
Matteo follows me, and I am aware we have an audience.
“Oops. Clumsy,” he grunts and tries to help me stand but I do it myself, avoiding eye contact with him.
I race up the stairs and instead of stopping to chat with those who came by to offer condolences.
I lock myself in my room.
That night, I talk to my mother.
There are bruises on my cheek, breast, and arms where he grabbed me, and I’m doing my best to cover them. But Mami sees them, and she cries.
“No, no, no, mija . We have to get you out of here.”
She is right. Much as it pains me.
It takes hours to come up with a plan, but we have one.
Even if it sucks.
Mami is still in shock, but she is levelheaded about this. About getting me to safety. And I love her for it.
“Maybe he’ll leave me alone,” I try to come up with an excuse to stay.
But we both know he won’t.
“No, mija . I know all about Matteo. Your father told me. He is cruel and depraved. He is not a good person. I don’t want him around you, Mia.”
“I don’t want to go,” I whisper, and we are both crying now.
“I know. It will be okay. Papi would not want you to stay here with that man after you. I've heard about Matteo. He does not have a good reputation with women. I know you are innocent, mija . Matteo would break you.”
She hugs me tight, and I am sobbing. I feel like a small child. I just want to curl up on her lap and have her make the hurt go away.
But that’s not fair. My mother can’t go up against Enrico Sanchez’s son.
The only way is for me to go.
“I’m scared. What if I leave and he does something to you?”
“Nothing will happen to me, Mia. Sanchez promised me I would always be protected,” she offers me a sad smile.
“But what about, Papi? Will we ever know what really happened to him?”
“Sweetheart, your father was killed by the same men who killed Carmine. His death won’t go unanswered. Meanwhile, you go. Live your life free from all this.”
“I don’t want to leave you,” I cry, leaving the fat, soggy tears where they fall.
“You’re not leaving forever. You’ll come back, and we will stay in touch.”
It breaks my heart, but she’s right.
So, that night before I leave, I set up a dozen aliases and fake social media accounts and show my mother each and every one of them.
I might be abandoning her, but I need a way to contact her.
The tears don’t stop as I pack a bag, and they fall even harder when she hands me a duffel bag stuffed with cash.
“How much is this?”
“Sixty thousand dollars and a new identity. Papi always had papers for us all, just in case. Maria Mendoza. That’s your name now. You finish school wherever you land, and you keep me updated. I love you, mija ,” she says, clutching me tight.
I thought she was falling apart before, but I should have known better.
Like most women, my mother is stronger than others give her credit for.
She’s a goddamn warrior, and I hope like hell I inherit half her strength and grit.
“I’ll be back, Mami. It’s not forever.”
“I know, now go. Be safe,” she says and kisses my forehead.
It’s so damn hard, but I turn my back and I leave the only home I have ever known.