Chapter 24
VAL
Saul Moscatelli barged into my bedroom without knocking.
“Good news, little princess.”
I’d spent the last two hours under scalding water trying to wash away not only the Russian’s sickening touch, but also to erase the image of Saul examining my naked body as he put a price on it. My skin was pink and raw from all the scrubbing, but on the inside, their filth remained.
I pulled my robe tighter and hugged my abdomen.
“What news is that?”
“The Russians made their offer, and they’re coming for you first thing in the morning. You’ll be heading right to Moscow.”
God, his expression showed such enthusiasm, like it actually was good news, and he’d struck the deal of the century.
Pain slashed through my chest. I swallowed a thick lump of emotion and bid the tears not to fall as the old fucking monster paced the room and mumbled to himself.
“Of course, I’m not getting as much as I should. The pakhan’s second son refused you. Something about his Russian wife providing worthy sons in due time, so he’ll use you as a reward for his men. And you’d better last the year, so I get more out of the time and money I’ve spent raising you.”
I wanted to roll my eyes, but I knew better. It would result in me on the floor again. But the obnoxious idea that he’d spent any time raising me made it difficult to hold back.
My nonna and older brother raised me.
The only reason Saul even allowed me to attend school was because Marco convinced Saul that education made for better wives.
Continuing his self-directed conversation, Saul wandered out. No doubt to celebrate with the expensive bourbon on his desk while deciding how to spend his new windfall.
I sat on the bed and took in a long, deep breath.
This was it. Fate had caught up to me.
I had always believed in fate.
Once upon a time, I believed fate brought Stefano to me, because he needed a mafia princess, and I needed a strong man who wouldn’t beat me.
But I’d been wrong.
My fate had always been to serve a monster.
As I thought about it, I realized my once upon a time theory hadn’t really been too far off the mark. Stefano could technically be considered a monster just as well.
But fuck fate. I couldn’t control what she had in store—only my reaction to whatever situation enslaved me.
With my legs tucked under me, I stared outside at what used to be a fabulous view of the Chicago skyline. A brick wall now blocked much of it. It was such a shame.
The view didn’t matter anyway.
Coming up with something to help me survive, maybe even to help me see my son again someday, that mattered.
The way I saw it, I had three options: run and risk being caught and killed for it, fight and risk being killed for it, or lie down and accept my fate.
If fate meant for me to die, though, and I chose to accept her option, I would definitely find a better way to go.
I would take away their satisfaction.
I closed my eyes to think through the different scenarios and outcomes to make sure I took the path with the best advantage for my son and the least amount of impact on him.
If I ran away again, my chances of making it out of the city were slim to none. But for argument’s sake, if I did get out of Chicago, where the hell would I go?
I had no money, no clothes, not even a pair of shoes.
Maybe sneaking downstairs into Aris’s room—to steal his shoes and a coat, as terrifying as that would be—might work.
For money, I could steal Marco’s cash and credit cards.
The idea of stealing from him didn’t sit well in my stomach. I would leave an apology note asking him to contact Stefano for reimbursement. Stefano had confiscated all my money anyway.
Then just maybe I would find myself in the wind, but still with no idea where to go or for how long.
Saul and my brothers would look for me. Worse, they might encourage the Russians to hunt me as well.
One thing I knew for sure? Aris would go after Enzo.
Stefano would do everything in his power to protect our son, but I worried Aris had more pull than anyone realized.
He could have developed skills and contacts no one knew about. Sadistic assholes could learn new tricks like anyone else.
Aris was dangerous. He held grudges.
Stefano would remain vigilant, now that he understood my family, but our son would always need to look over his shoulder.
I had limitations on how I could protect Enzo myself. Coming home with Saul, step one. Preventing Aris from going back for my son, undefined step fucking two.
Damn it, I needed to think. Step two.
Assuming I did get away, taking Enzo on the run might not work like I once thought. First, Stefano would never allow it. I would have bet anything his estate was now like a military base.
Stefano might have even transferred Enzo to a safe house.
He definitely had one.
Besides, I had no resources or contacts, no more fake IDs, or birth certificates. Stefano had confiscated those too.
Most importantly, what would happen to Enzo if the Russians or the Moscatellis found us?
No, running away couldn’t be an option any longer. I would be a fucking fool to think so at this point, so I crossed it off my mental list.
The best thing to do was often also the hardest.
Making the full circle…
Accepting my fate.
It gave Enzo and Stefano the best chance.
I’d grown so accustomed to my independence, to freedom. Living my life while relying on myself, my wits, and my decisions to fill mine and my son’s needs. Freedom meant knowing our future rested in my hands.
Managing Con Amore had taught me a great deal about self-reliance as an autonomous woman, one who made her own life choices. How did I let go of that?
Going with the Russians, I couldn’t be a woman with a voice that others would hear. Just a possession meant for use and abuse. No choices left about who I wanted to be with or even what I wanted to do on a day-to-day basis.
The cold, hard truth came down to one thing. A different man would own me each day for the rest of my life, my body his personal reward for good behavior.
Saul had mumbled that they might put me up in a nice penthouse in Moscow or St. Petersburg. Maybe it would be warm, and maybe I would have food, but it would still be a gilded cage at best.
Just because a prison had a beautiful view of an onion-domed church that looked like it belonged in a stupid snow globe didn’t change the fact that it was still a prison.
No more than it changed the fact that they meant for me to be their sex slave, a pretty doll who screamed when abused.
Thinking about my future in Russia made my spine vibrate with bone-deep shivers and it hollowed out my heart.
The Russian had told Saul his payment would come in two installments. Half upon delivery, then the rest in a year, but only if I lived that long.
How fucking stupid was Saul anyway?
They didn’t intend to make the second payment. They intended to kill me before the year ended.
All the men involved in my transaction believed they’d won. They assumed I had no cards left to play.
They were wrong.
I’d made my decision. I planned to die on my terms. To die for my son. Die because I couldn’t bear to be with any man other than my one true love, Stefano.
And I would take Aris’s evil ass with me.
I choose to fight, motherfuckers.
To avoid going with the Russians, I would have to kill every man in the house. My entire family. They outnumbered me. If I dared to take them on, I would die. Fact.
Taking out Aris first was my only strategic move.
Seemed fair considering the twin thing. We came into the world together, him three minutes before me, so according to my logic, we should go out the same way. Him about three minutes before they took me out.
This was the one part of my plan that gave me any peace.
Taking Aris’s life to save my son’s seemed like the best way to make my final exit.
I glanced at the little antique clock on my dresser.
10:10 p.m. I needed to wait a while.
Midnight was the easiest time to get around the house.
Not only did Saul sleep before that, but also the guards changed shifts at midnight. The men would be inside the cabin in the back, swapping out weapons and reassigning duties.
I never understood why Saul gambled with his life by separating his men from the main house, but it had always been that way, and I appreciated it now more than ever.
Oh, wait—arrogance. That was why he did it.
While waiting for the clock in the hallway to strike twelve, I ran through the plan in my head on repeat, hoping something better occurred to me, cursing at the fucking clock, cursing at Stefano, Saul, even myself.
When I was a child waiting for midnight to sneak down to the kitchen, I always doubted myself, and often, I ended up going back to bed on an empty stomach.
Saul had dictated calorie restrictions for my mother and me.
On the rare occasion when I found the courage to make the trek, anxiety had nearly suffocated me before I made it back.
This time, though, complete resolve expanded inside my lungs and gave me the breath I needed. My nerves didn’t buzz, and my stomach didn’t cramp from the fear.
True resolve made people dangerous—especially women. It scared men, as it should have. Oppressors should have always feared the strength of the oppressed when they had nothing more to lose.
Ten minutes before the hour.
I wished I could do something more. I couldn’t contact my son or Stefano. I couldn’t leave them a note. They’d never see it.
I could pray for them.
Sinking to the floor on my knees, I closed my eyes, and begged the spirits of my grandmothers to watch over my son. To keep him safe the way they once kept me safe.
I prayed to the Virgin Mother, asking her to make Enzo strong, to make sure his father gave him the tools he needed to face whatever life threw at him.
And I asked her to forgive Stefano for his sins.
Stefano had racked up quite a list for sure, and he was too proud to go to confession.
His pride only added to the list.
So I confessed on his behalf and asked the Virgin Mother to be patient with him. He never had a chance at a normal life, because his family took it from him, and he should not suffer for surviving the sins of his father.
I begged her to guide him, to show him how to be the good father Enzo needed.
“Amen,” I whispered.
In answer, the grandfather clock struck midnight.
I crossed myself and rose from my knees, ready to take my fate into my own hands.
I hadn’t bothered to pray for myself.