Gia

I awoke on a mattress in a dark room lit by candles scattered around the perimeter. Twin mattresses were on the floor around me, at least twenty of them. My heart pounded against my rib cage, attempting to claw its way out of my chest. Overwhelmed by my new surroundings, the fear kicked in. Adrenaline shot through my veins, causing me to panic. I sat up and looked around the room.

Where am I?

The floor was tiled, the walls brick and painted with a white sealant. A chill ran through me from the cold air that blew through the large, open space. I was wearing the skimpy white dress Lucky gave me before I left the club. My stomach burned from the lack of food and the hunger pains that hit me all at once. I couldn’t keep down a meal to save my life. All I’d done for the past few weeks was vomit.

The acidic taste in the back of my throat mixed with the cottonmouth from the drugs made it hard for me to form any spit. I was thirsty, beyond dehydrated. Water was my friend. If I could find some. I got up from the bed and walked around the room, searching for something to drink. I dropped to the floor when I saw a bottle of Nestea next to a mattress in the corner. It was empty, not a single drop left.

Dammit.

I staggered over to the only door in the room and clutched the knob in my hand. To my surprise, it turned. My eyes and mouth widened in shock. It was too good to be true. I turned the knob slowly, careful not to make a sound. For all I knew, I was being set up. This was a test to see if I would pass. But I had to try to escape. I wasn’t Raven. I wasn’t a bird someone could cage.

The door made a tiny creak when I pulled it open. No one was waiting for me. I poked my head into the dark hallway, looking from left to right. To my right was a man who sat in a chair with his hands on his lap. He was wearing a suit and wingtips, definitely a Made man. They had a particular polished look about them which was a dead giveaway. His dark hair was gelled into place, his head tilted to the side. He had his eyes closed as if he was sleeping. For my sake, I hoped he was out cold.

There was only one way out, and it was past him. I released my grip on the doorknob and crept past him on my tip-toes. He stirred when I moved by, but didn’t open his eyes. This was too easy.

No way would a man pay nine million dollars for me and allow me to leave without a fight.

Nope, this had to be a trap.

I was free from my prison. My body burned from the ache in my weak bones, but I took off down the hall and kept on running. The soles of my feet tore open as they scraped the cement floor, leaving bloody trails in my path. I blocked out the pain, so close to making my escape.

“Hey,” the man yelled from behind me.

I didn’t bother to look over my shoulder. He was on my tail. His musky cologne filled the air behind me, his stench choking me with each step he took in my direction. When I hit the end of the hall, he closed the distance between us, reaching for my arm he missed. I swerved around the corner, plunged myself further into the darkness.

The walls were made of unfinished brick that had wires hanging from it. The exposed ceiling was open, with wooden planks holding up the insulation. Camping lanterns were placed sporadically along the trail, the yellowish glow providing me with enough light to see.

I was so sure I’d hit a dead end when I turned another corner. But I was wrong. The door to my freedom was right in front of me. I picked up the pace, my body kicking into overdrive. Only a few more steps. Almost there.

With seconds to spare, I clutched the doorknob and swung it out. It hit the man behind me in the face, but that didn’t deter him one bit. He grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled me into his chest.

I wasn’t going back to that room.

No fucking way.

Using every ounce of strength I had left, I planted my foot on the wall and pushed back into him. He lost his balance long enough to loosen his grip on my shirt, long enough for me to elbow him in the face.

My jailer let out a deep growl. His breath stunk of cigarettes and coffee. I elbowed him again, this time even harder. No one was stopping me from climbing the stairs before me. Not even this fucker. He swatted at me, his long fingers making contact with my skin. My skin ripped open from his nails, just another mark to add to the rest. I made it up a few steps before I had to hold onto the short railing and kick him again and again until he’d fallen to the bottom landing.

My freedom was so close I could taste it. I made it up the last few stairs to the wooden door at the top, with stank breath on my ass. The door didn’t give at first, but a hard shove with my shoulder made it give way.

I fell to the floor with a loud thud, my hipbone breaking my fall. With the man right behind me, I sucked up the pain and crawled across the white marble. Why was it so much nicer upstairs? Polished whites and creams were so bright my eyes burned. Going from the basement to this floor was like a vampire climbing out of a coffin in the middle of the day. Maybe this was heaven. Wherever I had been kept sure as fuck was hell.

I attempted to get up without any effort. Crashing to the hard floor proved to be too much to overcome. So, I slid on my right side along the tile until I ran into another man.

“Gia?” His voice stopped me dead in my tracks.

I touched his black dress shoe and gasped, staring up at him in horror. I closed my eyes and blinked a few times.

Had I been dead all along and was dreaming?

Defeated, deflated, unsure of how to respond, I fell into the wall and sobbed.

I glanced around at my surroundings, now realizing where I was being detained. “Were you in on this?”

Angelo knelt on the floor next to me, pulled me to him, and stroked my hair with his fingers. He hugged me so close, all while his body trembled, shaking right through me. “Gia, it’s me. I got you, baby. “I don’t understand. How are you here?” He sounded confused. “I’ve looked everywhere for you. Someone bought you.”

Each kiss he planted on my head made me shiver. “Why would you let them take me?”

He stopped threading his fingers through my hair and tilted my chin up with his big hand. “What did you say?” Angelo shook his head. “I’ve been out there killing everyone who got in my way to find you.”

Angelo looked up at my captor and said, “Hey, Vin,” as if he were talking to a friend.

I sat up and shoved Angelo away from me, pointing at the man standing across from us. “You know him?”

“Yeah. Don’t you remember Vince Bianchi? He’s worked at the compound for years on my father’s personal security detail.”

I pressed my palm to the wall and used it for support, as I pushed myself up to standing. “He kidnapped me, Angelo. How could you? How could you let your father do this to me?”

Angelo narrowed his eyes at me. It took him a second to process what I’d said before he hopped up from the floor and pulled out his gun. Vince backed up into the wall behind him and slid along it, reaching for the gun at his waist.

“You motherfucker,” Angelo growled.

“I was following orders,” Vince spat back. “Just like you, I do what I’m told.”

“You were told to kidnap and torture my girl?”

Vince shook his head.

Angelo’s mouth twisted in anger. “How long has Gia been here?”

“A day or two.”

“My father knew about this,” Angelo hissed.

Vince nodded. “He sent me to collect her.”

With both men holding their guns in front of them, I said a silent prayer. It was like watching two men square off in an old Western. They approached each other, all while keeping a safe distance. Angelo was good with a gun, but I didn’t know a thing about Vince. For all I knew, he had perfect aim. I wasn’t about to take the chance. Not when I’d just gotten Angelo back.

Remembering that Angelo kept a gun strapped to his ankle for emergencies, I scooted along the floor. Both men were engaged in their stare down, too busy to notice me. Angelo didn’t flinch when I slipped my hand beneath his pant leg. If he felt me there, he didn’t let on to it. I retrieved the gun, and Vince lowered his gaze to meet mine.

He moved his hand, about to point his gun at me, but I beat him to the punch and took the first shot. I fired and hit him in the shoulder. It didn’t do much, but it was something. Angelo used this to his advantage and sunk a bullet into the man’s skull. The stubborn bastard didn’t die right away. Four more bullets to the head caused him to fall backward, hitting the tile floor with a bang. I handed Angelo his gun, and he helped me up from the floor.

Men were running down the hall toward us with their guns in their hands, surveying the situation.

“What happened?” One man asked Angelo.

“I killed the man who stole my girl from me.” His eyes were vacant, the man I loved lost somewhere along the way. “Where the fuck is my dad?” He pointed both guns at the three men standing in front of him, and I pushed myself up from the floor to join him.

“I don’t know,” one man said. “He’s probably in his office.”

“What’s with all the commotion?”

Angelo angled his body to glance over his shoulder at his father—the man who deserved to die more than anyone.

“How could you?” Angelo pointed one gun at his father and the other at his men, his jaw clenched in anger. “You took Gia from me. For what? To prove a fucking point? Do you know how many people I killed to find her? And here, she was in the same fucking house as me all along. I have been sleeping upstairs the entire time. Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

“Because he’s your father.” Ma stepped out from the kitchen, as white as a sheet. Tears streamed from her eyes, falling down her cheeks. “Please, Angelo. Don’t do this. Your father is a bad man. You don’t have to be like him.”

“I already am like him.” Angelo’s hand shook, biting back the tears. “He made me this way, Ma.”

In all the years I had known Angelo, I’d never heard him raise his voice to his mother.

“Dad ruined all of our lives. Look what he’s been doing to you for years, Ma. Let me do it. Let me put this bastard out of his misery.” Angelo’s entire body trembled as he pointed the gun at his father, his face twisted in pain. “He deserves to die.”

“Fathers shall not be put to death for their sons, nor shall fathers be put to death for their fathers,” Ma said to Angelo, moving closer to him.

“Ma, don’t quote the Bible to me,” Angelo shot back. “God is punishing us for his sins. He can’t get away with this. Everything he’s done was supposed to be for us. For this family. But all he does is hurt us. He only cares about himself and his power.”

Ma stood in front of Angelo and cupped her hands over his, her face stained with tears. She peeled Angelo’s finger from the trigger and took the gun from his hands. “This isn’t how I raised you, cucciolo. You can still be a good Catholic. Your sins can be forgiven. But you have to start by forgiving your father. Like you, he was made this way. He doesn’t know any different.”

Dropping his hands at his sides, Angelo stared into his mother’s eyes. “Do you know how many people I have killed? Do you know how many people I have tortured? And I will do it again. Without even blinking an eye. Because he made me like this. He made me a killer. He made me like him. This is what he wanted. Pete, Marco, and me, we are his creation. He designed us to become cold-blooded killers.”

Don Morelli barked a few orders in Italian to the men crowded in the hallway with us. They put their guns down and walked away from us. I was still shaking, my body still weak from being held in captivity for so long.

For weeks, I’d vowed to end the life of the man who did this to me. But I couldn’t kill Angelo’s father with his mother pleading for his life. I no longer had a mother. Mrs. Morelli was the closest I had to a mother now that mine had been taken from me. Like Angelo, I couldn’t cause her more pain. We both wanted revenge, but it would have to be under different terms.

“I didn’t take her,” the Don said to Angelo. “I bought her. For you.” He moved closer with his hands out at his sides to show Angelo he didn’t have a gun.

Angelo looked at his father, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “Then, why were you keeping her in the basement?”

“Vince picked her up late at night. He brought her down there so he wouldn’t wake your mother. You killed one of my most loyal men for no reason. He was protecting Gia. He wasn’t going to hurt her.”

“You could have called me.” Angelo moved away from his mother and stepped toward his father. “You could have told me she was here and that you bought her. I was going out of my mind. You have no idea what I was about to do.”

“Why do you think I bought her? I can’t have you ruining the city I built over a girl.”

“She’s not a girl,” Angelo yelled. “Gia is my fiancée. She’s part of this family.”

Angelo Sr. patted his son on the shoulder. “All of this is over. I expect you to fall in line and get your act together. No more theatrics. No vendettas.”

“I want my revenge,” Angelo growled. “They took her from me to prove a point and made you pay the price.”

“This is the cost of doing business with dangerous men. You can pay me back with your loyalty. Understand?”

A silent communication was exchanged between Angelo and his father. Whatever Angelo had agreed to do as payment for my safe return was probably worse than death. My father was indebted to the Morelli’s for most of his life. One favor was never enough. Once you were in, you never got out. There was no amount of favors to adequately repay the Don for his help.

Angelo returned to me and pulled me into his strong arms. I felt safe for the first time since I was taken. He kissed my forehead, my cheeks, and my lips. Each kiss he planted on my skin made my body tingle. I missed his touch, craved his warmth.

“Our child will not be born into this, Angelo.”

He stopped kissing me, and our eyes met. “Are you?”

I nodded. “I think so.”

Angelo hugged me so hard he sucked all the air from my lungs. Then, he moved his hand to my stomach. He glanced over at his father, then his mother, before returning his gaze back to me. Shaking his head, he studied my face. “How did something good come from all of this?”

“Because I had faith in you. I knew you would find me. We always find our way back to each other.” I cupped the side of his face in my hand and smiled. “That’s what I want to call her… if it’s a girl.”

“Faith,” he whispered against my lips. “Faith Morelli. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” He leaned his forehead against mine, and a tear slid from his eye to wet my cheek. “I promise you, G. Our child will not live this way. I will do whatever I can to get us out of this mess.”

“I love you, Angelo.”

I sobbed. Angelo didn’t cry. One fallen tear was as close as I would get from him.

“I love you, too, G.” He brushed his lips against mine. “I promise to take care of you and this baby. I will never let anyone hurt us again. Our child will never have to pay for my sins.”

I wanted to believe him. For our child, I had faith in Angelo.

But was it a promise he could keep?