Veiled Vows (Mafia Lords of Sin #8)

1. Jasmine

JASMINE

“ N ame?”

Smelly Brute, as I’ve decided to name him, sinks his fat fingers into my jaw and pulls me forward, forcing strain on my arms as the twine binding my wrists to the pipe above my head tightens.

His eerily bright blue eyes dart back and forth across my face as if something about my features can grant him the answer he’s looking for, because I certainly can’t say it.

I’m too scared. Fear grips me like the unwelcome bite of frost on a cold winter’s morning, locking my joints into place and making my tongue feel so fat and swollen that all attempts to speak have become nothing but whimpers.

Growing up, my mother warned me about these kinds of situations. “Your father is a dangerous man, Jasmine. And dangerous men attract dangerous people.”

Everything she ever taught me fled from my mind the moment I was snatched from the school grounds by men posing as maintenance workers.

Oddly, my first thought when the bag went over my head, and strong arms wrestled me to the ground was that the school principal was going to be in so much shit for not thoroughly checking who was allowed on school property.

Once I thought about it, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Even now, dangling from a pipe with twine slicing into my wrists and my toes barely touching the ground, all I can think about is the principal.

Did she not run a background check? Did she not take one look at this rotund man with his pencil-thin mustache, fat arms, and eyes so blue that they almost look white, and think it was maybe not a great idea to have him around a bunch of teenagers?

Could she not sense the threatening aura pouring from this man? Is she really so blind?

I would make a better principal than her. I’d make sure that anyone who walked onto the grounds of my school didn’t make it past the gate without me knowing every detail of their last ten years walking this?—

“Hey, bitch!” A sharp, swift slap to my cheek knocks me out of my spiraling mental distraction, and I’m dragged right back to the cold, damp room that’s become my prison cell.

“I asked your fucking name, and you better tell me or I’m going to pry open that pretty mouth of yours and rip out your teeth one by one, then make you spell out your fucking name with them, understand? !”

He tightens his grasp on my jaw, shoving my cheeks against my teeth until the pain is too great and my mouth opens with a wet gasp.

Before I can snap it shut, he shoves the barrel of his handgun between my teeth.

It slides so deep into my mouth that I gag and my whole body recoils with such force that my toes briefly lift from the ground.

It tastes disgusting. Metal and copper, like how I imagine an exhaust pipe would taste.

“Leave her alone!” The girl to my left, bound in a similar position to me, yells out suddenly, and she twists back and forth as if there’s anything she can do to help us.

Why would she call out to try and help me?

Her uniform is different from mine, so we don’t even attend the same school, yet she draws attention to herself as if there’s anything good that can come of it.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Smelly Brute snarls, thrusting the gun an inch deeper into my mouth.

The metal sight scrapes against the roof of my mouth and tears flood my eyes, leaking down my cheeks with every flutter of my eyes as I fight the urge to gag again. Any more and I’m certain I’ll throw up.

One of the other girls did and they took her away. She never came back.

His bright eyes lock back onto me as one of the other guards, a man I’ve dubbed Skinny, punches the girl next to me so hard in her stomach that her eyes almost bulge right out of her head.

Once he starts punching her, he doesn’t stop.

I’m forced to watch in horror as he beats her like she’s nothing more than a punching bag, until tears are streaming down her cheeks and she gasps for air that doesn’t seem to make it into her lungs.

The last punch sends her swinging backward, her legs fall limp, and her head flops down against her chest.

Is she dead?! Did he kill her?!

Am I next?

“Eyes over here, beautiful.” Smelly Brute snaps his tongue against his teeth and forces me to look at him. “That will be you in a second if you don’t answer my fucking question, alright? Or I’ll shove this gun so far up your cunt you’ll be spitting bullets for a week.”

He removes the gun and I cough violently, scarcely able to drag in enough air to calm my racing heart. It beats so fast that it’s a blur, and I’m scared it’s not beating at all. Maybe I died. Maybe this is hell.

“Name,” he barks, wiping his saliva-covered gun against my neck.

“J-J-Jasmine,” I croak out weakly while my jaw trembles uncontrollably.

“Jasmine what?”

“F-F-F?—”

“Fuh, fuh, fuh,” he mocks with a cold laugh. “Speak up!”

“F-Falzone!” My surname bursts out of me, and I curl my hands so tightly that my nails dig into my palms. This new pain is a brief distraction from the agony throbbing in my wrists from the twine that cuts into my skin from supporting the majority of my body weight. “M-My name is Jasmine Falzone.”

“Age?”

“F-Fifteen.”

“Mother’s name?”

“Uh … B-Bianca?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

Once I look him in the eye, it’s impossible to look away. “Telling.”

A third guy with a scar over his eyes melts from the shadows and leans close to Smelly’s ear, speaking in a low voice. Whatever he says makes Smelly’s face light up and he finally steps away from me.

All three of them leave not long after. A deathly silence lingers in their wake.

The girl next to me remains as unconscious as the two other girls on the floor, also in uniforms from different schools.

I haven’t seen any signs of life from them in the entire time I’ve been here, time of which I’ve lost complete track.

Everything here is dark and cold with only frozen pipes for company.

I was supposed to be going home for Christmas. My parents and I were due to fly to Italy to spend time with very distant extended family and wait out the bitter December cold in a much more relaxing country. Instead I’m here, snatched from school like a pebble in a sea of gravel.

In the dark and the silence, more tears come. I cry myself to exhaustion, trembling from fear and the icy conditions. It’s impossible to tell. My mother talked me through what to do if I was ever taken, but I can’t remember a single thing now. All I want to do is make sure I survive this.

My mother was clear about the specific reasons I would be targeted.

My father. What he does and the people he works with all make life very difficult for different groups of people. All it takes is for one to get tired of being treated like shit and try to work out a better deal using something my father can’t bargain with.

My life.

I hate it. I hate him. I want to be at home curled up on the couch drowning in TV shows like any other regular teenager.

I hate this.

I hate him .

What feels like hours pass before the men return.

They untie the unconscious girl and carry her out of the room, slamming the door closed behind them and leaving me to a terrifying solitude.

It wasn’t as bad when I knew someone was in here with me, but now I’m alone?

There’s no one to call out for me. Nothing between me and them.

Exhaustion eventually pulls me into an uneasy sleep filled with pain and heat that I can’t escape no matter how fast I run.

The dreams last until an overwhelming surge of agony throbs through my shoulders.

My eyes open as a scream of pain tears from my raw throat, but as soon as I make a noise, I’m swiftly slapped across the face, which only disorients me further.

My shoulders scream like my joints are being ground against broken glass, and countless tears pour down my cheeks as I’m dragged by my hair and the back of my shirt along a dark corridor.

My shoulder pain must be from being hung by my wrists for so long only to abruptly be let down.

Darkness gives way to a room so blindingly bright that my eyes slam shut to protect themselves, yet the light seems to pierce through my eyelids. Covering my eyes with my hands does little to change that, but it helps.

“Stand up,” barks Smelly’s voice once I’m thrown onto a cold, hard stone floor. “I said get the fuck up!”

His boot collides with my gut with such force that I fly upward an inch or two. The impact forces my eyes open as all air is forced from my lungs, and a tight cramp flexes across my abdomen. I can’t speak. I can’t breathe, but somehow I manage to climb to my feet.

This room is much larger than where I was being held.

A large white sheet acts as a backdrop behind me.

Several cameras and glaring bright lights form a wall in front of me, as well as several large white diffusion umbrellas.

Skinny drapes his long limbs over one of the cameras and picks at his teeth, narrowing his almond-shaped eyes when our gazes meet.

I look away quickly, hastily wiping away my tears so I can get a clearer look at everything around me. Scarface stands near the door with his hands cradling a submachine gun while he rocks back and forth on his heels.

Smelly approached with a cold smirk. “So, Jasmine. I thought it’s about time you slipped into something more comfortable.”

My stomach drops like a rock, and I stare up at him with wide eyes. “W-What?”

Cruel snickers rise up around the room.

“You’re not in school anymore so why are you still in uniform?” His bright eyes dip down to my body hidden underneath a very stained white shirt, then down to the pleated skirt clinging to my legs. “The only thing better than a schoolgirl fantasy is seeing what’s under the schoolgirl uniform.”