25. Wynter #2
It only took a second for him to react and tighten his grip in my hair. A yelp escaped me and my scalp burned with pain.
His mouth latched onto the back of my neck and bit in hard. I screamed. I screamed so hard and long, my lungs burned. Tears pricked my eyes. This man would rape me. I had to think of a way to escape this monster.
I had to get my hands on that gun. Using all my muscles, I kicked him with the heel of my foot. His grip on me loosened just enough to allow me to move.
Ignoring pain in my palm and my shoulder, I grabbed the handle of the drawer. I pulled hard on it, the whole drawer came out of the sliders and went flying onto the floor.
“Firecracker, aren’t we?” he mocked. The next second I felt his hand slap me across my head so hard my ears buzzed.
I won’t die like this , I whispered in my mind. I can’t die like this.
He chuckled, almost as if he heard my thoughts. “Should have taken the offer,” he taunted. “I would have given you a few million and fucked you. Now, I’m going to fuck you and kill you.”
My face throbbed. My whole body pulsed. Blood stained my hands. My legs. I could see the gun from the corner of my eyes. I scrambled for it, but his hand yanked on my shirt and another sound of cotton ripping filled the air.
The gun was my end game. I needed that gun.
His hands came to my waist and flipped me over, my back hitting the floor.
The ripped shirt couldn’t protect my bare back from the shreds of glass that was cutting into my skin.
A scream tore from my throat. Tears started flowing.
His fist hit my jaw and spots danced in front of my vision, shades of black and red. Maybe blue. I couldn’t tell.
“Your mother thought she was too good too,” he hissed, his breath hitting my nostrils. He smelled like whiskey and cigarettes.
His words made no sense. Maybe he was crazy.
His knee nudged my legs further apart and another scream tore through my lips. Full of anguish. Full of pain. Full of terror.
I kicked. I scratched and slashed his face. His palm connected with my cheek and instantly my cheek exploded in pain.
Think , my mind kept whispering. Think .
I relaxed my body and instantly I could see victory flash across his face. The evil in his eyes was black and tarnished.
“I knew you’d see it my way,” he hissed, his breathing hard.
I kept my body relaxed and waited. His one hand cupped my breast. His touch disgusted me. It had bile rising in my throat. Stay focused , my mind whispered.
“I can see why he likes you,” he drawled, his breath hitting my nostrils. I had no idea what the fuck he was talking about but I kept still. I kept watching him through half closed eye-lids, waiting for my opportunity. “Your fire probably turns him on. Just like it turns me on.”
God, I wanted to spit into his face. Then smash it against all the glass on the ground.
“But he’s just a boy,” he purred. “I’ll show you how a real man fucks.”
He was so excited, he let go of my wrists to bring his dick to my entrance, and that was when I saw my opportunity.
With all my strength, I kneed him into his balls and then my fist flew across the air and connected with his face.
I pushed him off of me and scrambled for the gun laying two feet away.
Grabbing it, I shuffled to my feet and aimed it at him, sliding the hammer back to ensure there was one in the chamber, ready to fire.
He laughed. “You are not going to shoot me.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that.”
He watched me and he must have seen something on my face that convinced him I’d pull the trigger. I kept my finger readily on it, ensuring he kept away from me while I pulled my boyshorts back on.
“Did you know I knew your mother?” My eyes widened. It was a mistake. He latched onto my surprise and kept on pushing on that weakness. “She was supposed to be mine.”
“You’re lying,” I choked out.
“No, I’m not,” he protested. “Ask her. She didn’t love your father.”
This made no sense. My mother didn’t talk about my father, but she said she loved him. Didn’t she? My mind worked vigorously, remembering what little she told me.
‘I fell in love. It wasn’t accepted.’
‘I had to choose. Love or my career. I ended up losing both.’
Gio studied my expression. “You look like her,” he drawled. “But she chose wrong.”
A gasp tore through the room. My mother loved Gio DiLustro? How did my father come into play? No, no, no. This man was cruel. Evil. It was evident in his eyes and in his expression. There was no chance of missing it.
“The bullet in her knee… “ I watched his dark eyes hardened. “I put it there.” My chest froze and then turned into an angry inferno. It consumed me from the inside and had my hands shaking.
Gio laughed, like it was the funniest thing when that would have ruined her life. It only fueled my anger further. Ice skating was like breathing for mom. For me. “Do you think she’ll like my son as her son-in-law?”
She wouldn’t. It finally made sense why mother refused to come to the East Coast. The chance for the future with Bas slowly drifted away like a feather on a breeze.
The pain in my chest overwhelmed all my other senses and dulled out the physical pain. It was the kind of pain that made it hard to breathe. The kind of pain that made you weak in the knees in the worst kind of way.
“My mom breathed ice skating,” I croaked, my chest tightening with each breath. “She lived it, and thrived on it.”
Not a single muscle moved on Gio’s face. No regret. No sorrow. Nothing. “Why would you be so cruel?” I whispered, knowing just how much it broke my mom to have lost her chance to skate. Her passion.
I saw it every day in her limp. Or when her knee bothered her. The way sorrow filled her eyes sometimes when she watched me skate. She had that and she lost it. All because of this man.
“I loved her,” he said, his voice cold. “Her Russian heritage was a bonus.” My brows knitted.
“Yes, her mother was the beloved daughter of the Pakhan. Why do you think the Russians can’t stand your family?
The Brennans kidnapped your grandmother.
” Surprise washed over me at that revelation and all I could do was stare.
“But your damn mother, all she wanted was my brother. When she left him, instead of coming to me, she married some frilly skater.” He scoffed and almost looked like he wanted to spit.
“Your father was a fucking joke. So fucking weak.”
My hand lowered to my side, the gun suddenly feeling too heavy to hold. My lungs lacked oxygen, each shuddering breath making it harder to breathe. There was too much information. Too much history I didn’t understand.
“Of course, the moment Basilio saw you, he knew who you were,” he continued and my heart shattered. “We planned this. You are our ticket to the Pakhan and the Russians that keep refusing to join the Syndicate.”
I swallowed hard, my heartbeats shattering me with each beat against my chest. It was ironic that the very thing that ensured I lived was so painful.
“You will marry Basilio, and the DiLustro family will make an allegiance with the Pakhan,” he boasted. “We’ll get rid of the Irish, once and for all.”
Over. My. Dead. Body.
“You’re crazy,” I hissed.
He threw his head back and laughed as if I’d told a joke or this whole situation was funny. “You didn’t really think Basilio was chasing a silly girl without an endgame in mind. All along, it was to secure an alliance and end your uncle. He knew this would happen. He knew, that’s why he left.”
He took a step forward, and instantly I raised my gun.
“You were played,” Gio cackled. “After all, I’m the one that taught my son how to play the game.”
I’m not a good man. Basilio’s words from our first date came back with a vengeance. He told me he was a bad guy, and yet, like a fool, I refused to see it.
“Give me that gun,” he drawled. Another step. “You’re not a killer so save us both the time.”
He moved towards me and I aimed at his right knee, then pulled the trigger.
Bang.
“You’re right,” I told him as he fell to the ground. “I’m not a killer. But I’m not beyond making you lose a leg.”
I cocked the gun and pulled the trigger again.