CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: WINTER
IthinkthatMaximo killed Enzo and that has to mean I must be next.
I pull my legs up to my chest, folding my arms over my knees and dropping my chin to rest on my arms.
I’m in a new room.
It’s not even in the same wing as my room. I haven’t been allowed to go back in there since yesterday after Vito had carried me out while Maximo was completely losing his mind.
There’s nothing stable about Costa blood, its just all murderous.
I swallow, thinking about the way Maximo had pressed the gun to Enzo’s temple. His hand had been steady, not doubting what he was doing for a moment.
He was going to shoot Enzo.
No, he did shoot him.
That has to be the reason why I’m in this new room, which admittedly feels cold. I’d gotten used to the other one. The one that I’m not allowed to go into because its the place of a murder scene.
Maximo shot Enzo in there and now the room is covered in blood, uninhabitable.
I swallow, my heart beating wildly in my chest.
I haven’t been able to settle myself in the last twenty four hours, no matter how hard I’ve tried. I even begged one of the maids to bring me a Xanax when she’d come in to change the sheets. Apparently, this room hasn’t had anyone live in it in a long time and the sheets were dusty, and the maid had looked at me as if I was a lunatic.
Fuck, I don’t know, maybe I am these days.
Because who can keep their head straight in the midst of all this shit.
I’m personal property of a mafia family, who don’t want you to actually call them the mob or mafia.
I’ve been kidnapped, two, no, three times in the last couple of months.
Guns have been pressed against my skin too many times to count and the bullets that have been whizzing past me have just barely missed my brain.
I’ve been fucked so hard that my vagina literally tore.
My mother may have been murdered by the same men who now own me.
I’ve been hit, choked, drowned.
And now a man has been killed for fucking me.
And I’m next.
My body shakes and I will the tremors to stop, but when the lock on the door clicks, the shaking worsens.
Vito steps into the room, his loose hair hanging into his face as he peers over at me. Some of the worry eases until I see the dark look on his face.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“How are you feeling today?” he asks, his tone too cool for the way he’s looking at me.
“Fine,” I manage to get out. My pulse is thumping wildly.