Chapter 3
716words
Rocco paused for a second, then burst out laughing.
"What the hell is this bitch talking about? Latin?" He slammed the butt of his gun into my forehead.
A blast of pain, and warm blood trickled down, blurring my vision.
"I'm... I'm the Don's daughter..." I tried desperately to explain. "I'm Scarlett..."
Rocco froze, a flicker of doubt on his face.
"Ha!" Julius roared with laughter. "Don't listen to her crap! The Don's daughter?"
"We were together for three years, and you never once mentioned a father. You're an orphan," he sneered, crouching down to look at me. "Now you cook up a lie like this? You think we're idiots?"
Rocco's expression turned dark.
"I've never heard of the Don having a daughter." He pulled a cigar from his pocket and lit it. "Running your mouth like that... looks like you need to be taught some manners."
Then he grabbed my right hand and ground the burning tip of his cigar into the back of it.
The sick-sweet smell of my own burning flesh filled the air.
My scream echoed through the cellar.
"Stop! Stop!" I cried. "I'm telling the truth—"
Rocco kicked me in the stomach, and I curled into a ball of pain.
"Don't think that face gives you a free pass. One more word out of you, and I'll dislocate your jaw," he said coldly. "Then all you'll be able to do is whimper."
And he did it.
His rough fingers clamped onto my jawbone and gave it a hard twist.
CRACK.
My jaw was dislocated. I couldn't close my mouth. Saliva and blood drooled down my chin. The pain sent my whole body into convulsions. I tried to scream, but only broken sobs came out.
"Much quieter." Rocco wiped his hands, satisfied. He pulled a dagger from his belt. "This is just a warning. If you pull any crap when you see the Don, I'll slice this little hand of yours to ribbons..."
The cold tip of the blade traced a thin, bloody line across my skin. I felt like he was about to drive it straight through my palm.
I tried to shrink back, but Rocco grabbed me by the neck and slammed me against the floor.
He laughed, a wicked sound. "You know, you look a lot better when you're scared to death. Too bad you're for the Don, otherwise..."
"What are you doing?"
A cold, commanding voice came from the doorway.
A voice I'd known for twenty years.
My father, Leopold, was here.
I struggled to lift my head so he could see me, but my hair was matted to my face with blood. I saw his gaze pass over me without a flicker of recognition. I tried to make a sound, but Rocco shot me a warning look and stepped in front of me, blocking his view.
"Don," he said, bowing his head respectfully. "Just inspecting the merchandise."
Leopold stepped into the cellar, his eyes scanning the trembling Julius and his family, then the blood on the floor.
"Who gave you permission to make a mess in here?" He frowned. "The smell of blood disgusts me."
He glanced at Julius. "This is the gambler who owes me five million?"
"Yes, Don," Rocco nodded. "He brought this woman to settle the debt. I've checked her out, she's—"
Leopold's expression soured. "I wanted money, not a woman."
"But Boss—" Rocco tried to explain.
"Get her out of here," Leopold waved a dismissive hand. "With the rest of this trash. They're staining my carpet."
No.
It couldn't end like this.
I fought with everything I had, trying to crawl towards my father. But Rocco's men had me by the arms, dragging me away.
Just as they were pulling me through the door, I wrenched one hand free.
My fingers fumbled for the secret pocket in my bra, for the ring hidden inside.
My mother's ring. The only one in the world.
With the last of my strength, I threw it.
The silver ring flew through the air in a high arc, landing with a single, sharp clink on the tile floor at Leopold's feet.
Leopold glanced down. The moment he saw the ring, his body went rigid.
Then he shot his head up, his eyes locking onto mine.
