Chapter 2
Mariana
I screamed and fought, even though my body felt broken, and blood was everywhere. I screamed and kicked at the hacks that had just pulled the baby out of my womb after 20 agonizing hours of labor. That child was the only thing I had that was mine anymore, and even half of it belonged to my captor. I didn’t even know if it had blond hair or dark hair, or if it was a boy or a girl. It had been swooped up and led away from me.
In any other world, it would be insane to think someone would kill a newborn baby, but these were special monsters. I thrashed, even knowing it could ruin my recovery. I could kill myself in the process, to make sure they understood four years as their prisoner did not mean all the fight was gone. I was a Vasile. The fight was in my blood even if I had not found a way to escape yet.
Finally, concerned looks crossed their faces as one tried to hold me down to no avail. I screamed until there was nothing left, for that child. The man who took me four years ago, the one that brought this child into being, stepped into the room looking like he was disgusted. He looked upon the crying bundle in one of his associate’s arms as if it had leprosy, or worse. For a moment, panic came over me. After everything my body had undergone while pregnant, I did not know if that baby could come out alright.
Jonas glanced at me with his evil gaze before nodding in my direction. The baby came closer and closer, and I calmed, reaching my arms out in relief and exhaustion. "Keep that thing away from me," Jonas spat in my face as I looked down at a healthy baby girl. I did not care what I had to do to protect her from that moment on; I would do it. My life had changed, it wasn’t just about me – it was about protecting her.
I noted her blonde hair, just like mine, and her darker eyes that matched her father's, or rather, her sperm donor of sorts. It didn’t matter to me. She was beautiful, and she was mine. She would see the end of this slavery and torture, even if I didn't. "How do you like the name Bianca?" I whispered to her as I clutched her tight, afraid someone might take her from me again.
As if in answer, the tiny girl wrapped her whole hand around my pinkie and calmed. Yes, Bianca was the right name for her.
***
I sat up in bed, almost swallowed up by the lumpy mattress as I tried to gain my bearings. I had dreams about the birth of my daughter often, even four years after the fact. She had split my time here as little more than a slave to a man named Jonas Masterson, giving me a new purpose for the second half of my long and miserable stay here. Though, some things had been worse for me since her birth. Everything I did was to protect her.
Jonas still looked at the beautiful daughter he had helped create as a disgusting creature, an abomination. What did he expect when he began raping a 16-year-old? I was lucky it hadn’t happened immediately. I don’t even know how I didn’t end up pregnant within the first four years I was here, how I managed to become pregnant I have no idea, but I am thankful it didn’t happen when I was sixteen. I’d gone through enough, Jonas made sure that I did – the last thing I needed at that time was a child. I could hardly care for myself, emotionally, I was ruined. After years of being here, I’d learned to adapt to my surroundings – I’d learned to survive.
I was afraid the moment I knew that my body was changing. I knew that I was with child. I had to tell Jonas, but I was scared to. I knew he would not approve, even though he had had his way with me for years.
When I told him, I might be pregnant; that I had missed two periods, his reaction was violent. It continued to be this way even as my belly continued to swell. Though I am grateful he never forced abortion; I did not understand why he did not take me to get one. I had only to guess that he was afraid I would mention something to the doctor or that people would notice the oddity of our age difference. I had been only 19 at the time of conception, and though Jonas had never revealed his age to me, I knew he was, at the very least, 20 years my senior. The red flags may have led to my being taken away from him, and then he would have no claim to me or the Vasile name. Not that I felt he did anyway. That wasn’t the way it worked. Jonas seemed content with it all, though, even if I didn’t understand it.
I knew by instinct that it was early morning, almost time for Jonas to wake up and expect me in his room. I had to go by instinct because I was living in a set apart side of the upstate New York residence we had been in for years. The windows were blacked out. It was mostly a run-down hotel that was a high-rise, glittery sort of thing in its heyday. Now, it was full of seedy characters that were often coming and going. Jonas was easily one of the only permanent residents.
Where my daughter and I stayed was set up like a dingy, cold apartment. Something I was given following the birth of Bianca. We shared that place together, and that was where she spent most of her days unless Jonas left the house. I refused to let her cross his sight most of the time, still afraid after all these years he would hurt her or take her from me. I wouldn’t put it past him; he’s a special type of monster, the vilest of men.
I took a few deep breaths before righting myself, standing up and looking over at the smaller mattress that had been taken out of Bianca’s crib over a year ago and set down on the floor next to mine. Sometimes she would still end up in my bed, and those were the hardest mornings to get up without waking her. I tried my best to make it so that she didn’t know or understand why I left her each morning and closed the door behind me, heading out into the main part of the residence, which was in better repair than where I was made to stay. It wasn’t shocking that Jonas had made sure he had the best of the best, I thought that maybe one day he’d fix up our small dingy apartment, but he never did. He wanted to keep the hanging threat that I was his prisoner over my head.
I went into the sad bathroom and began my morning routine, only maintained for the sake of keeping both Bianca and me alive and safe. Most mornings, I did not feel like brushing my hair and teeth. I did not feel like doing my makeup to perfection with the cheap products provided for me, only for the sake of my captor’s pleasure. I did not feel like putting on one of the silky gowns Jonas liked to see me wear whether he was torturing me or having sex with me. But I did it all anyway, all before my Bianca woke up to find me gone.
I had plotted for the first few years to find a way to get out because I could tell from Jonas’ conversations that a new heir had never been named for the mob clans. It sounded like the clans were a mess without the Vasile family to run it, and they would’ve been. The entire infrastructure within the Romanian mob depended on my bloodline – the Vasile bloodline. We weren’t like the Russians, Italians or Irish – we are unique. My blood has importance, but I was never allowed to rule because I’m a woman, my husband would be gifted the power over, and the remaining clans would serve as a board, each controlling their own region. We would only interfere when necessary, and the clans would have the power of the entire mob behind them. We are structured, unified and efficient. Up until the time I was sixteen my father taught me everything I know. He never wanted me to be the type of woman who sat next to her husband and let his opinions and ways fly. He wanted me to have a say – even if I didn’t look in the eyes of the clans. I did have a say. I often wonder why Jonas did it, what is his angle in all of this. Jonas had killed my whole family and taken me as a toy, and this whole time he had not seemed to make the necessary move to claim the throne. It was sickening, and I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about ending it all before. But one look at the miniature version of myself, and I knew I had to live for her sake even if that damned me to hell.
Feeling like a trained dog, I ignored the new me in the mirror I had put together for the benefit of a man who didn’t deserve any woman by his side. The only thing that Jonas Masterson deserved was a knife through his heart, and given the first opportunity, I would be the one delivering him with that fate. It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow, but I can promise that one day, one day he will die by my hand. I ascended the stairs that led up into the main part of the house and went straight to the large master bedroom where Jonas stayed. As I walked through the door and shut it behind me, I could hear water shutting off in the master bathroom of sorts, signaling I had arrived just at the end of his morning shower.
I found my place on his king-size bed like the good little slave I was. Oh, how the mighty Vasile name had fallen while in my hands. My father was probably rolling over in his grave, knowing that I was disgracing the family name by being so damn compliant. I was weak, and I knew it. The shame I felt was nothing compared to the love for my child that made me that way, it fueled my compliance, for her I would do anything, but it didn’t matter. I just had to keep going until…. well until forever. I didn’t think anyone was coming to save me now. It had been far too long. I’d stopped dreaming of that, there was no use in thinking of it, it only served to give me false hope, and that’s something I couldn’t handle.
I was expecting Jonas to come out with a sly grin on his face, happy that I was there to please him first thing in the morning. His dark wispy curls would be slicked back with water, but I could hear his phone ring, buzzing against the bathroom counter. He didn’t try to hide his phone conversations from me anymore, so I just listened, wondering what weasley activity he was up to now.
I heard his voice rise in anger and frustration as the clans were discussed. It sounded like the tensions had turned into an all-out war with them, something I could easily fix if released. Though, it sounded like a power struggle was happening rather than the cooperative voting set up as a precaution in case of there being no Vasile. How could there be a power play? Nobody had the right to take over the clans other than whatever man married me. Was Jonas going to make his move to take it all after all this time?
I shook my head at the thought. He didn’t seem like he was interested in marrying me, though he easily could do so and take the claim now that we had a child together. I knew that no one would fight it, even if I did – I yet again, had no say. They would see the birth of my daughter, Bianca, as a cause for him to marry me. The surrounding circumstances wouldn’t matter, and anyone that did help me would most likely be butchered. Jonas is the type of man to remember who crossed him; he would personally sign the death warrant of anyone that would help me. I’m not naive; I know that. The thing is, there are always casualties in war. I will always be looking for the first opportunity to rid myself of him – to get Bianca and me out of this hell hole. But Jonas, wanting to marry me? That would require taking me out in front of the other can leaders, though, and one of them was the man I was supposed to be married to. I could not imagine something like that ending well for Jonas. He was brutal, but the other 13 clan leaders were certainly nothing to scoff at. Especially with Ion if he’s anything like his father. I wonder who is deadlier. Ion, or Jonas?
As soon as he hung up, I knew I was in for it today. I would not beg for him to stop this time as it just made me feel worse. If I was going to keep doing this, I needed to go all in. So, I put a friendly smile on my face and brought my hip up on one side the way he liked it.
Like many times before, Jonas had no words for me. I could see the anger in those dark brown, almost black, eyes of his. It appeared to me at times that he loathed me. I couldn’t at all explain why he kept me around like a piece of scrap he might find a use for one day. It wasn't like he didn’t have the resources to buy or threaten whatever woman he wanted.
He whipped off the towel that was covering his body before sliding into the bed on top of me, letting his weight land on me completely. In everything he did, he was always forceful, and he liked deviant things I would have never thought of before, even by being the daughter of the king of the mob.
Sure enough, in his mood, he reached for the nightstand drawer to pull out the small knife he kept there for such occasions. With a hiss that had always made me think of a snake, he slid the cold metal down my face and chest, taunting me with the instrument that would be used to leave another scar on my skin. As the cold reached my left thigh, I braced for a pain that had become all too familiar. With a grunt that sounded a bit like a pleasurable moan, Jonas sliced through my skin, causing a trickle of blood to drip from the new wound. It was one of many; he couldn’t help himself. Bringing me pain brought him so much joy, so much satisfaction. I wonder if he slaughtered my family for the significance, I can’t help but think why he still hasn’t married me – why he’s kept me locked up in this godforsaken place. The only explanation is that I’m a trophy, it wasn’t about marrying me, about advancing himself amongst the clans – it was about killing the Vasile’s, taking their only heir and binding her to a life of servitude.
I bit my lip as he let out a sigh of relief like he needed to do that to me in order to calm himself. Then, I felt his shaft against my thigh, having grown with the pleasure in the act he had just committed. Dropping the knife, he raised up on his palms and used the strength in his leg muscles to push my legs open. His shaft slid inside me, pounding against my cervix immediately. He never wasted any time.
I reached back and wrapped both of my hands around the pillow at my head, digging my nails in. His cock kept slamming into me so hard; I couldn’t find any pleasure in it. I lost count of how many times he came in me, writhing over my body with gurgling moans. My insides were raw, and I was in tears by that point. It was all with a purpose, though. At least, that was what I told myself as I tried to walk with some dignity out of his room, going straight to the pitiful excuse for a kitchen Bianca and I had to use. It was almost time for her to have breakfast.