Sold to Moretti Mafia

Markus

Once clean, I grab a towel and dry off. Fallon is quietly sobbing when I enter the bedroom. I’m tempted to go to her and console her, but such a thing will have to wait. We need to get out of here before more men arrive.This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

I pick out clothing in the closet, get myself dressed, and grab a duffel bag that I find on the floor. Shoving some clothes into it for Fallon and myself, I return to the bed. There is another gun hidden beneath the bed, and I run my hand along the frame until I find it.

It’s a handgun, nothing fancy, but it will be good enough till we get where we need to be. I shove it into the back of my jeans, along with the phone from earlier, and walk over to Fallon.

“Let’s go,” I order, but she doesn’t move. “Fallon,” I say a little more sternly. She lifts her head and meets my gaze. She is frozen, an iceberg floating in a sea of endless emotions.

“We need to leave. There could be others coming.”

“I… I wasn’t running,” she whispers, her bottom lip trembling.

Whatever patience I had left is gone. I’m in no way capable of having this conversation right now. Not without wanting to throttle her. She knew what she was doing, knew that her one and only chance at escape would’ve been right then. I don’t for a second believe she wasn’t trying to escape, but again, this conversation will be better suited for another day.

“I don’t give a fuck right now, Fallon. Get up and pull yourself together. We need to leave,” I order once more and decide this time if she doesn’t obey that I’m simply going to pick her up and toss her over my shoulder.

She shakes her head, fear trickling back into her eyes. Of course, she tries to make a feeble attempt to escape me, crab walking to the headboard, but I’m past giving a shit, past all of it. This is survival now.

“I do not have the patience for your bullshit,” I hiss through my teeth and grab her by the waist. I pull her to the edge of the bed, getting a better grasp on her, and then toss her over my shoulder. Likewise, she struggles, but her escape is futile. She would have better luck fighting off a starving bear than me.

“I have to save her. I have to, you don’t understand, Markus.” She starts to scream while pounding her tiny fists against my back.

Her struggles intensify, and by the time I reach the car, I’m done. I have nothing left to give her. I’m hovering on the line of insanity, caught between crossing the line and standing on it. I drop the duffel bag to the ground and release my hold on Fallon at the same time. She slides down my front, her fists still raining fury down on me.

“I hate you and this place. I hate that my sister was taken…” She’s crying now. Big fat tears slip down her cheeks. “They are hurting her, he told me. It’s my fault… and your fault! You should have let me call them.”

All I can do is stare down at her.

Her cheeks are red, and angry lines of fresh tears streak her face. I should care. I should wipe the tears away, cradle her to my chest, and tell her everything is going to be okay.

That would be the right thing to do, the good thing, but I’m not about to deliver false hope, and I’m not listening to this shit. If she had been honest and given me the answers I wanted, none of this would’ve happened.

I’m tired of playing nice.

Tired of protecting her.

Without even thinking, I grab her by the throat and push against the car, subduing her with my body. Panic flashes like a lightning bolt across her eyes, overtaking the sadness. Her pulse thunders beneath my hand, and I give her throat a hard squeeze.

I’m slipping into the past, slipping further away.

Brushing my nose against hers, I inhale deeply. I wish her scent could bring me back…

“Your sister is still alive. You’re still alive. For how long, I’m not sure as you continue pushing and fighting me at every fucking turn. I’ve asked you to tell me the truth, and you’ve fought me with each step. The pain you’re feeling right now is your own fault. I could protect us better, protect you better if you just gave me the fucking information, but you won’t. I’m going to have to go back on my word. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, but I’ve changed my mind.”

“Markus, please… I’m sorry.” The words wheeze past her lips.

I’m grappling for control, grappling with myself over how to handle her.

There is no way around it.

I pull away a bit, watching her face, her struggle, the way her hands pry at mine, wrapped around her throat. I’ve never seen her more afraid of me before, not even the day I bought her. Her chest is rising and falling, but it doesn’t seem like air is filling her lungs.

Guilt pulses to life in my chest, but I ignore the pang.

With my hand wrapped securely around her throat, I press my thumb firmly into the side of her neck. The blood supply to her brain is cut off immediately, and her fight-or-flight instincts kick in full force as she struggles harder. She digs her nails into my hands and tries with all her might to push me away, but there is no breaking the hold I have on her.

I keep the pressure there until her eyes flutter closed, and she goes slack in my arms, her body giving out on her. Like a rag doll, she slumps against me, and I hold her close to my chest while I maneuver her into the passenger seat of the car.

Once situated, I brush a few stray locks of gold hair off her clammy forehead. I’m tempted to kiss her rosy lips, but instead, press a kiss to the crown of her head. I can’t grow anymore attached to her than I am. Not until I know the whole truth.

As I pull away, my gaze latches on the red and swollen fingerprints that were left on her delicate throat. My stomach knots, and the guilt I tried so hard to bury, to swallow down, starts to rise up again.

Before I can even think about it, I’m touching the spots, tracing them ever so gently with my fingers. I don’t like knowing that I put those marks there, even though that’s who I am and who I will always be. I’ll always be the villain, the killer, walking on the wrong side of the law.

Pulling my hand back as if her skin is fire, I grit my teeth.

No! I won’t feel bad. I won’t let the guilt take me for a heinous ride down memory lane.

She ran from me.

She’s hiding secrets.

She cannot be trusted.

Those three things weigh heavily on my shoulders and are the reminder I need.

If we’re going to make it out of this on the same side, I will have to find a way to make her crack, and I have just the right idea.