Chapter 6
927words
The footage was from some remote mining camp in Mexico. The camera shook, then settled on Julius. He was curled up on a filthy wooden plank, his back a mess of whip marks. Some were fresh and bleeding, others were scabbed over and infected. He was shackled to the wall like an animal.
A guard walked in and cracked a whip across his back.
"Get up! Time to get in the mine!"
Julius struggled to his feet, his face covered in a mixture of coal dust and dried blood. The arrogant, charming man I knew was gone. His eyes were empty.
The camera cut away.
It was Julius's parents. They were kneeling at the entrance to a mine shaft, their hands bloody messes. On closer look, I saw their fingers were gone, leaving only stumps wrapped in dirty bandages. His mother was wailing, but no one paid her any attention.
The video ended.
I put down my phone and let out a long breath.
When Julius sold me to pay his debts, he never dreamed this would be his payback.
"What about Rocco?" I asked the guard by my door.
"He's been handled, Miss. His fingers were cut off, and he was dumped in the river."
I nodded. He was probably fish food by now.
I spent the next few weeks recovering. The burn on my hand scabbed over, and the stitches on my forehead were removed. The doctor said the scar would be faint, easily covered by makeup.
But I didn't want to cover it.
These scars were a reminder: never be that naive fool again.
A knock on the door. Leopold came in, holding a black velvet box.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Much better," I said, flexing my fingers. "The doctor said I can start practicing again next week."
"You heard what happened to Rocco? Do you think I was too cruel?"
I shook my head. "If you hadn't come for me, my fate would have been much worse than his."
"You've grown up." Leopold smiled faintly and handed me the box. "This is for you."
I opened it. Inside was a gun. A compact Beretta, small and sleek, with my initials engraved on the grip.
"You need to learn how to protect yourself," Leopold said. "I can't always be there in time."
I picked up the gun, feeling its weight. Heavier than I expected.
"I'll teach you," he said, standing up. "Not just how to shoot. Fighting, tracking, interrogation. You need to understand the rules of this world, Scarlett."
I looked up at my father and said with conviction, "I want to learn. I'm done being the princess locked in the tower."
A proud smile spread across Leopold's face.
"Good," he said. "Starting tomorrow, six a.m. sharp. Firing range."
My life changed completely after that. Leopold taught me how to shoot himself.
"Breathe steady," he said, standing behind me to correct my stance. "Hold your breath the moment you pull the trigger."
BANG.
The bullet hit the bullseye.
"Not bad," Leopold nodded. "Again."
I fired again and again, the recoil making my wrist ache, but I gritted my teeth and pushed through. Once, twice, a hundred times. Until the magazine was empty and my fingers were blistered and bleeding.
Combat training was just as brutal. The first day, I was thrown around until my entire body was one big bruise.
"Being the Don's daughter doesn't get you a pass," my instructor said coldly. "A street fight doesn't care if you're a princess."
I got up and attacked again. I was thrown down, and I got up again. Over and over, until I finally saw an opening and drove my knee into his stomach.
"Good," the instructor said, rubbing his gut with a rare smile. "You've got a talent for this."
At night, Leopold would teach me about the "family business" in his study. He showed me the ledgers, taught me how to manage the underground casinos, the docks, the shipping routes.
Three months later, I stood on the stage of a concert hall once again.
I raised my violin. It was still my mother's, but my father had gotten it a new bow.
Tonight, I was playing one of the most technically difficult pieces ever written. And I played it perfectly, earning a standing ovation.
After the performance, Leopold was waiting for me backstage.
"Perfect," he said, handing me a bouquet of roses. "Your mother would be so proud."
"Thank you, Father." I took the flowers.
"By the way," he said suddenly. "I've made a new rule for you."
I raised an eyebrow.
"From now on, any man who wants to date you has to pass an 'interview' with me," he said, dead serious. "I need to personally assess whether they're worthy of my daughter."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Isn't that a little... controlling?"
"It's a father's privilege," Leopold said matter-of-factly. "Besides, look how well it turned out last time you picked someone yourself."
My smile froze. He was right.
"Alright," I nodded. "Deal."
"Good." Leopold put his arm around my shoulder, pleased. "Let's go. We're going home."
I sat in the back of the stretch limo, polishing the Beretta my father had given me.
"But Father," I said suddenly. "The woman I am now... I doubt most men would have the guts to even approach me."
Leopold let out a booming laugh.
"Even better," he said. "Saves me the trouble of cleaning them up."
