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“You doing okay, Damian?” my captor asks, concern etched on his face. It’s the same man who argued with Damian and Nat about what to do with me.
Damian waves an irritable hand, but I can see how pale his face is and the bags under his eyes. “I’m fine,” he says. “Just a flesh wound. I don’t even know why I’m lying in bed.”
“Because you were shot in the shoulder twice,” Nat snaps, her voice trembling.
“I was grazed by the bullets,” Damian corrects her. “Fucking Invicta idiots don’t even know how to shoot. How embarrassing. If I were Shields, I would get rid of them.”
Damian’s dark eyes finally slide onto me, and a wry smirk spreads across his face as he lazily pets his dog. My heart hammers at his smoldering gaze.
“Did you really think you could escape me, Alexis?”
9
ALEXIS
Something snaps within me at Damian’s smug expression. I’ve fucking had it with everyone. For the last God knows how many hours, I’ve been locked in a basement, escaped, nearly taken by gunpoint, rescued by a Mafia Don, imprisoned by a Mafia Don, tried to escape twice, and still ended up stuck in the same goddamn place.
I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask for the Carters and Mark to sell me like I’m a fucking piece of property, and I certainly did not ask to be trapped in a Mafia Boss’s house, unable to leave because someone says so. What about my agency? I have the right to come and go as I please, dammit!
“How did you know I was trying to leave?”
Damian laughs, petting the dog’s long body. “This is my house. Not much happens here without my knowledge.”
“Why can’t you just let me leave?” I snap, folding my arms tightly across my body.
He cocks his head to the side. “Oh, I’m sorry, Alexis. Is my home not comfortable for you?”
I don’t appreciate his mocking tone and I scowl. “Why won’t you just let me go home?” I ask again, my hands curling into fists. “I don’t want to be anyone’s prisoner. I just want to be left alone.”
Damian laughs again. “What home, Alexis? From my understanding, once you escaped from that basement, that house stopped being your home. Your foster family and boyfriend are pretty pissed at you and are currently trying to hunt you down. You have a dangerous Mafia also searching for you. You and I both know the moment you step foot in that house, you’ll be carted off to The Brotherhood and never seen again. I can’t allow that.”
He stops scratching Biscotti’s head, his face turning unnaturally serious. “Unless you do want to be sold as a sex slave. Then, by all means, I’ll happily send you back and get my cut.”
Time seems to freeze at his words and my chest constricts painfully. “Y–You’re in on this, too?” I whisper, horrified. Every instinct in me is screaming to run, but my captor—Edo—stands behind me. I’ll never make it past him.
Damian rolls his eyes. “Are you not listening to a word I’m saying? I’ve been tasked with finding you and delivering you alive to The Brotherhood. This was all agreed to after we rescued you from Invicta when I had no idea who the fuck you were. If I was really in on this, I would have dumped you at Mario Rafa’s feet already.”
I can breathe again, and I exhale, my body shuddering as I come down from a near panic attack. For one horrible moment, I thought Damian was going to betray me.
Is betraying even the right word considering we aren’t even allies? I’m his prisoner.
“Do you want to go back to your foster family?” Damian asks me, his gaze never leaving mine. “Say the word and it’ll happen. You’ll be stupid as fuck for doing so, but you do have a choice in this matter.”
The thought of going back to the Carter house and being whisked away to my worst nightmare makes me shiver, and I rub my arms, goosebumps erupting all over my flesh. “No,” I admit in a small voice. “No, I don’t want to go back.”
“That’s probably the smartest decision you’ve made all day,” Damian remarks, ignoring the flash of anger that crosses my face. Did he seriously just call me stupid?
“Then let me disappear,” I blurt out, desperate to just get away from him. Although I hate being a prisoner, I’m finding that being in the same room as him is like touching a live wire.
Damian raises an eyebrow, an amused smile playing at his lips. “No offense,” he says, when it’s clear he does mean offense, “but you’re not the disappearing type.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you have the street smarts of a fucking infant. You wouldn’t even last a few days out there before you’d make a fucking stupid move, be captured, and never seen again.” He shrugs, ignoring my squawk of outrage. “So, as you can see, the safest place for you is right here at my house.”
He smirks. “You could at least say you’re welcome,” he taunts, looking smug.
I see right through Damian’s barb. He’s offering me a lifeline, a chance to survive, maybe even thrive if I play my cards right. All I have to do is keep my head down, do as I’m told, and stay out of sight. It’s what I’m used to with the Carters. But I’m finding myself to be repulsed by my own meekness and timidity.
