Twisted Emotions (The Camorra Chronicles 2)

They had given me shelter and education, but affection or even protection from the harsh whispers of society … No. Never that. I was grateful anyway. I knew how important outward appearances were, and they had risked their reputation by taking in a traitor’s daughter.

“But you are a grown woman now and it’s time for you to have your own home, to be a wife and mother.”

My insides tightened, but I kept my face blank. Over the years I’d learned to hide my emotions. “You found a husband for me?”

Who would have agreed to marry me? Perhaps they had settled on a soldier after all. It was for the best. If I married down, the wedding and marriage would be a low-key affair, no attention, little potential for scandal. A soldier might see me as a way to improve his position, because despite being a traitor’s daughter, I was the Capo’s cousin. Maybe that would make him overlook my defect.

Aunt Egidia smiled but her eyes showed guilt, perhaps even shame. Felix cleared his throat. “I know you aren’t aware of the details of my business, but the Famiglia is at war.”

As if anyone didn’t know that. Even small children were brought up with the knowledge that we had to be vigilant because the Outfit might attack, or heaven forbid, the Camorra.

“I know, Uncle Felix,” I said quietly.

“But Luca was approached with an offer of peace. You don’t need to bother with the details, but it might be the final step to destroy the Outfit.”

My breath stuck in my throat. What was he talking about? If the offer didn’t come from the Outfit, who else was willing to agree on a truce?

“It’s an honor, Kiara. After what your father did, we thought we would have to give you to a soldier or never find a husband at all.”

“Who is it I am going to marry?” I forced the words out, but they sounded strangled.

“You will marry up,” Aunt Egidia assured me with a tense smile, but her eyes … her eyes still held pity, and deep down I knew that whatever horrors my past held, they would soon be accompanied by new horrors.

“Who?” I rasped.

“Nino Falcone, second in command to his brother Remo Falcone, the Capo of the Camorra,” Felix said, avoiding my eyes.

I heard nothing after that, rising without a word and walking out. I went upstairs, continued into my bedroom, and sank down on the chaise longue, staring blankly at my bed. It was neatly made. I didn’t let the maids make it, hadn’t let them make it in years. Every night I took my pillow and blanket and curled up on my chaise longue to sleep, and in the morning I returned everything and made my bed so no one found out that I didn’t use the bed and hadn’t in six years.

Six years. I was only thirteen.

As I stared at my bed, the horrors of the past took shape again like they did every night when I closed my eyes.

SIX YEARS AGO

It was dark in my room when footsteps woke me. I turned around and recognized my Uncle Durant under the gleam of moonlight. He had come to Baltimore with his wife, Aunt Criminella, to visit Aunt Egidia and Uncle Felix for a few days.

Confused by his presence, I sat up. His breathing was loud, and he was dressed in a bathrobe. “Shh,” he said as he leaned over me, his body forcing me down.

Fear shot through me. I wasn’t supposed to be alone with men in my bedroom. That was a rule I had learned from an early age. Stiff with terror, I watched as he removed his bathrobe; he was naked beneath. I had never seen a naked man. His hand grabbed my shoulder, and his other hand pressed down on my mouth. I was supposed to show respect to my elders, to men in particular, but I knew this wasn’t right. I began struggling.

He tore at my clothes. He was too strong. He tugged and pinched. His hands hurt between my legs. I cried, but he didn’t stop. He moved on top of me, between my legs.

“This is your punishment for being a dirty traitor.”

I wanted to say I didn’t betray anyone, but pain robbed me of my words. It felt like being torn apart, like breaking and falling and shattering. His breath was hot on my face, and I cried, whimpered, and begged. His hand only clamped down harder around my mouth, and he grunted as he shoved himself into me again and again. I cried harder because it hurt so much.

I hurt all over, my whole body and deep in my chest.

He kept grunting above me. I stopped struggling, breathed through my clogged nose. In and out. In and out. His sweat dripped down on my forehead. He shuddered and slumped down on top of me. His hand slipped off my mouth.