Prologue
Rafaela, fifteen years old
Boom!
The floor beneath my feet vibrated, an intense rumble skimming across the landscape.
I stood at the window, more frightened than I’d been in a long time from an act of Mother Nature.
As night continued settling in, fueling the ominous atmosphere, my pulse raced while every inch of my body trembled in a nonsensical manner.
The sky had already turned to a bruised, ugly violet with clouds piling up into a black, angry anvil of menace. Lightning crisscrossed the sky, the vibrant blues blinding.
I pressed my hand against the glass, fighting the anxiety that had already left me feeling suffocated. With the wind whipping across the decorated landscape, chaos ensued, thunder bellowing its rage. Even though the house was built of stone and mortar, the violent storm shook the foundation.
The light in my room did nothing to abate my fears, the slight glow barely illuminating anything. Even the ugly shadows seemed larger than life.
I’d never felt so all alone in my life, cut off from anyone who cared. Yet I’d been told I was safe even as the rain lashed across the windows, thunderous sounds echoing in my ears. When a branch slapped against the glass, I bit my lip to keep from screaming while backing away.
Even with the bolts of lightning awakening the dead, shadows filled the area just outside my window, my wild imagination creating monsters in various shapes and sizes.
All bloodthirsty beasts with one thing on their mind.
Satisfying their hunger.
With another even more powerful rumble of thunder, I turned away from the window, folding my arms. A horrific chill continued to tear through every muscle and the second the branch slapped across the exterior of the house once again, I yelped and jumped back into bed.
The ominous figures I’d created in my mind continued to crawl from the distant corners of my room, inching toward me.
This was ridiculous. I rolled over, determined to fall asleep, finally able to close my eyes.
Yet the storm raged on, my heartbeat matching that of a strange, new thumping sound. Like a metronome torturing a pianist. I envisioned smashing the small wooden box in my crazy mind and finally managed to take a deep breath.
Thump.
My head shot up, shifting so I could glare out the window. Was the tree threatening to give way, crashing into my bedroom? While the wind continued to howl, there was no sign of any major destruction.
Thump. Ting.
I snapped my head toward my bedroom door. The sound wasn’t coming from outside the house. Something or someone was inside.
Not usually prone to panic, I sat up in bed, pursing my lips shut to keep as quiet as possible. While the storm prevented me from catching every noise, I sensed someone was in the house. Someone who didn’t belong.
My parents slept in a different wing of the estate, each with their own personal space.
My brother and I shared another wing, yet tonight I was alone, my parents at some glitzy event and God knew where my brother had gone.
He was almost never home and when he was, he was a surly son of a bitch I preferred not to be around.
Thump. Thump. Crackle.
Glass breaking?
Why wasn’t the alarm going off? Why weren’t the guards rushing into the house?
I threw back the covers, slowly sliding my feet onto the floor. Terror skittered through me as I moved to the door, very carefully opening it a crack. There was a light downstairs just like before.
Then there wasn’t, the light downstairs and the one in my room flipping off. Whether from the storm or from an intruder, it didn’t really matter. What did was what I needed to do.
While the fear was crippling, my mind quickly shot to a place of reserve, hearing my father’s stern voice telling me how to handle a situation like this. I’d been trained how and when to hide, put through exercises simulating a kidnapping, which had seemed so pointless at the time.
Now I understood why my father had insisted on claiming my free time for practicing. My father had enemies. I was a mafia princess. I was worth my weight in gold.
And someone wanted a payout.
My throat was close to being shut from icy fingers squeezing my neck, but I walked through the steps I’d been taught. There was a special place I could hide in the house where no one would find me.
I was about to slip from my room when I sensed someone on the stairs. There was no way I could rush by whoever it was. They’d catch me. Then I’d be screwed.
There was no other choice but another plan of action my father had shared. I swept the room with my eyes, desperate to find a weapon of any kind. I wasn’t old enough or tough enough to have a gun. My father wouldn’t allow it.
Besides, I was just a girl, nothing special in the Marichetti house. Another flash of neon lightning and my eyes settled on my brass dolphin statue I’d gotten while on vacation in Sardinia. My good luck charm because I’d seen dolphins that day.
Still shaking, I crawled under the bed, gasping for air as ugly claustrophobia set in.
Breathe. Just breathe.
The little voice inside my head wasn’t helping.
I was almost frantic, trying desperately to stay in my hiding place while straining to listen.
Every rumble of thunder brought another knot to my stomach.
Soon, I was nauseous, almost lightheaded and fearful I’d pass out. That would be better at this point.
Footsteps. Were those footsteps?
I sucked in and held my breath while fisting my hands. There was no mistaking the sound as someone opened the door. Footsteps indicated one person had entered my space. Whoever was in my room stopped, remaining as silent as a church mouse. There was no light, no indication of what he was doing.
My mind was foggy, my chest burning from lack of air while holding my breath. I had to remain quiet. I had to follow instructions. Don’t panic. Don’t breathe. Don’t cry.
Every command my father had issued lingered in my ears. I was trying to be a good girl. When the intruder shifted, taking a couple of steps that seemed as if he was heading for the door, I almost took another breath.
A few seconds passed, sweat sliding down my face and tickling my nose. I was close to freaking out, desperate for air while so terrified I was already at the point of losing my mind.
There was no sudden movement, no indication the intruder had found me.
Until a hand was snapped around my ankle and I was ripped from under the bed.
A sharp scream erupted from my throat as I was tossed onto the bed.
The shadow was huge and the person was so strong.
Whoever had cornered me had to be a man from his size and strength.
Even as the assailant slammed his large hand over my mouth, I reacted not on instinct but on my training, slamming the statue against his head.
“Stupida stronza.”
Stupid bitch. The man was Italian. Now I was furious. No one called me stupid or a bitch, even though the last insult I wore with pride.
I fought him, kicking and screaming as he tried his best to silence the agonizing sound.
His howl indicated anguish and the second he yanked his hand free, I reacted, almost managing to scramble off the bed.
But he was too fast and too strong, slamming me down and using even more weight and pressure to keep me from escaping. When the statue was ripped from my hand and tossed across the room, I prayed the horrific thump would be heard by the security guards.
Tears flooded my eyes when the horrible man leaned over. “Sei una cosina così carina. Mi divertirò un po’ con te.”
You are such a pretty little thing. I’m going to have some fun with you.
His voice was gruff, his accent smooth and one highlighting education instead of street talk. That didn’t matter. I had to get away. When he touched my arm, I shrieked under his hand, the sound nothing more than a muffled moan.
He laughed and rubbed the fingers of his other hand down my arm, Wretched, ugly tears began to fall, my chest heaving as the terror wrapped around me, spiraling my mind in horrible images.
“Non preoccuparti, ti farò sentire davvero bene.”
Don’t worry. I’ll make you feel so good.
The second the horrible man yanked at my pajama top, I shifted enough I managed to bite his other hand.
Another agonizing howl was ripped from his lungs. Before I had a chance to scream, the bastard backhanded me, pitching me off the bed. Stunned, the ambient noise of the room and the sounds of the raging thunderstorm vanished, replaced by a rhythmic roar.
His howl turned into a manic, evil snarl as he jerked me off the floor. But the paralyzing fear was tossed aside, my scream cutting through every noise, reverberating off the walls.
Lights snapped on, blinding me as I struggled to breathe.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
The horrible battering of gunfire filled the room and I was dropped like a rock, another hard thud followed by a crushing weight.
Scrambling and hysterical, I pushed him off, still wailing as I opened my eyes.
To stare into the vacant eyes of my assailant, half his head blown off.