12

 

CARINA

 

Sweat. Blood. Tears.

Secrets. Death. Power.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

Nothing but the smell of sweat, blood, and tears surround me as I continue to focus on the bag in front of me. First one punch, then a punch and a kick. My feet are black and blue from doing this for hours and hours a day, but it’s nothing new. I have to keep at it. I have to be better, stronger, and faster than others like me.

Secrets steal away my attention. The smell of death envelopes me as I continue hitting the bag. One punch, then a punch and kick. One punch, then a punch and kick. It’s the same, same, same. Over and over and over. From day light until dark, I’m stuck doing this. Doing this all with only one thing in mind. Power. I will have the power to overcome all of them. I will have the power to end it all.

Killing my father. I have the need to kill, kill, kill. Kill everything that’s ever caused me nothing but harm. Kill everyone who thinks they know better.

Kill every-goddamn-ONE who believes they can take it away from me like they have the right.

Sweat. Tears. Blood.

Secrets. Death. Power.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

They don’t know the monster they created will one day turn on them. They don’t know the monster they created views them as nothing but weak, mindless drones that do a higher power’s bidding.

I’m the monster, and the only person safe with me is the one person that can cage me. The one person they made me kill, kill, kill. The one person whose throat they made me slit when he wanted nothing more than to help, help, help.

He wanted to be there for me. He wanted to save me from this life. He didn’t want me to turn out to be just like him.

Too late. I’m already on the path my father set before me.

Only, I’m not going to be like Luca …

I’m much worse.

“Goddammit! Stop, Carina! Fucking stop!” In my haze, I keep pelting the bag in front of me. I keep barreling all my emotion into the bag or lack thereof if I’m speaking quite frank.

I hate them. Hate all of them. But right now, I’m numb. I’m numb to it all, and I want nothing more than to feel again. I want to feel the sun resting across my face. I want to feel my heart beat in my chest with the warmth of love. I want to feel, but I’m incapable. They broke me. They broke me in like you do a horse you want to train.

And I fell, fell, fell.

Fell harder than anyone has before.

“I am nothing; I mean nothing. I am nothing; I mean nothing.” I recant over and over, continuing my assault on the bag. My hands ache, but it’s nothing new. My body feels like it’s been run over by a Mach truck, but I relish the feeling because that means I’m still alive. It means I still have the one chance to get even for what they took away from me.

“Daniel! Goddammit! She’s phased again! Daniel!” Rossi screams, but his voice is nothing more than a haze in my mind. I’ll get him, too. I’ll get all of them.

Feeling a hand touch my shoulder, I turn around, swinging … I’ll kill them all.

“Carina!”

My eyes slowly blink open, feeling the phantom pressure on my shoulder. Glancing around, nothing is remotely familiar to me, but something about the urgency of that voice carries an uneasy feeling with it. It causes my heart to stall in my chest and sweat to pepper along my skin, which has me out of the bed and in a defensive crouch within an instant.

No one is going to get the best of me ever again. I refuse to go down that path of death and destruction without a fight.

“Carina!”

That voice sounds familiar, but I’m having trouble with my mind computing who he can be. It’s not until I glance over to my right, seeing Mateo’s eyes thinned into tiny slits of fury as he stares at me through his reflection. He’s in the process of tying his tie around his neck, but he stops when he sees my wild eyes and untamed mannerisms.

“What? What’s wrong?!” I yell.

Sighing, he gives me a once-over, a secretive leer tugging at his lips before he replaces it with his infamous stoic mask once more. “Nothing. You were just having a dream,” he says flippantly, resuming his morning routine as if nothing is out of the ordinary, and he didn’t just scare the shit out of me. “You kept repeating something about kill, kill, kill and secrets, death, and power. Is there something I should know?”

“You ass,” I growl. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to wake someone up from a nightmare?”

“I think you’re talking about sleep walking. You’re not supposed to wake anyone up when they’re sleep walking.”

Shaking my head fervently, I reply, “No, I meant what I said. Waking me up mid-nightmare would be cause for getting your ass kicked.”

“Are you always this delightful in the morning?” he deadpans, glaring through his reflection at me.

What does he expect me to do? I was trapped in one of the few memories that still haunt me to this day. It’s the only time my father had to sedate me that I remembered. The thoughts of death—of taking someone’s life that I felt deserved it put me into a trance.

A trance of need, desire, and bloodlust to see the ones that wronged me get what they have coming to them. My list of targets began that day. There were four of them all together, but now, it only consists of three people, two of which are already dead, and one I no longer see as a target but under my personal protection. So, that leaves one. When I finally take that asshole out—that raping, murdering asshole—I’ll be able to breathe easier.

Rossi.

Coming back from my thoughts, I don’t answer him. Instead, I start looking on the floor for my clothing. When I don’t find what I’m looking for, I hear a voice clearing that draws my attention.

“What?” I ask, frustrated.

Those nightmares always get me this way. I’m a raging bitch the next day until the remnants of them get out of my system. The fragments of fear, anger, sorrow, and complete helplessness always fuck my head up even more. I was only fourteen when the torment from Rossi started. Torment my father looked the other way over. He didn’t come to my aide when Rossi took my innocence. Didn’t come to my aide when Rossi wanted to play games with me.

He pretended like I didn’t exist just so he could get a few hours away from me, with my bitch of a mother who demanded to be wined and dined like a queen she clearly wasn’t. While they were having the greatest goddamn time of their lives, Rossi was using my body for anything he wanted, which further solidified my persona as Reap.

In order to get through something like that, I needed to make sure no emotion was left so I wouldn’t be hurt by it. So, there was no way he would be able to leave a lasting effect on me.

“What’s going through your mind right now?” he asks.

Confused, I blurt it out before thinking better of it. Growing up like I did, there’s no time to think about filtering anything you say, because you may very well not get the chance to say it later. “The times Rossi would rape me, so my parents could go out on the town and rub elbows with your father.”

“Who. The Fuck. Is Rossi?!” he thunders, turning away from the mirror, his devil eyes locking on mine.

“No one for you to worry about,” I say, finally looking up at the bottom of the bed and seeing my clothes. Picking them up, I start putting them on as if my ass is on fire. “So, can we stop by my room before going downstairs. I need to shower and change.”

“Carina, who the fuck is he? And don’t make me ask again.”

Breathing deeply, I make eye contact with him as I straighten my appearance. “He’s the man that used to help my fath … Daniel. He used to help Daniel in training me when I was younger.”

“Do you have an idea where he’s located? What he does for a living?” he asks, sliding his jacket over his broad, muscular shoulders.

“No. And when I do, no one will be able to find him because I’ll leave him in pieces.”

Growling, Mateo stalks toward me. I know he’s not doing it to intimidate me because we both know that would be a waste of time. He’s doing it because he’s barely restraining himself and his anger.

“You won’t have to worry about that, Carina. You are in this house, so that means you are under my familia’s protection. If anyone has crossed you, I will be the one to take them out.”

Annoyance simmers just below the surface at his words. Mateo has no goddamn ties to me anymore; he no longer has to marry me. Yet, he thinks it’s his job to fight my battles for me. Like I’m some weak, little woman that can’t protect herself. Bullshit. If he wants any type of cordial behavior between us, he’s going to have to stop treating me as if I’m some coward that runs from her problems. He needs to realize that he’s no longer the deadliest one in the room.

Because I’m far deadlier than he can ever realize.