One morning I’d wake up and he’d come for me, or send men for me, and I’d disappear.
Or I wouldn’t wake up—maybe he’d poison my food, and I’d die in a puddle of my own sick.
I glanced over at the spit and bloodstains on the carpet where I’d curled up in a ball after he beat me the night before. That was only the start of it, and if I couldn’t find some way to escape, or figure out a way to make myself useful—then he’d kill me, and that stain would be everything left of me.
Half the day passed. I lingered near the window staring outside at people as they walked along living their lives in freedom. I wondered how many of them had any clue was happening around them, what sort of pain was happening in the windows above their heads, but I knew the answer to that—it was none, no clue, because people never looked out beyond their own small worlds.
Around midday I heard the door unlock again. I expected more food, but instead Dante stepped inside and shut the door softly behind him. He stared at me and I flinched away as he took a step closer, wrapping my arms around myself, afraid that Vincent had sent him to finish the job.
His face darkened. “How are you holding up?”
“Just fine,” I said, looking down at my bare feet. They’d brought me new shoes but I didn’t see the point of wearing them. “He’s treating me like a queen.”
“I’m guessing he gave you that black eye.”
“He wasn’t too happy when I turned down his offer.”
Dante sighed and rubbed at his face with a hand. He’d always been nice to me over the years, even when it wasn’t fashionable or a good thing to be kind to the awkward cousin—but no matter how gentle he’d been, or the small polite smiled he’d given me, he was still my brother’s man, through and through. It didn’t matter if he pitied me or thought Vincent was treating me poorly, he’d do what Vincent said because that was what the family demanded of him.
I’d met a thousand mafioso just like him, and they were all the same.
“I know none of this is fair,” he said, spreading his hands.
“Fair?” I barked a laugh, almost spitting it back in his face. “That’s a stupid way of putting it.” I grimaced as the pain in my side flared.
“I’ll do what I can for you, but Vincent’s pissed. What did you say to him?”
“Slapped his arrogant face and told him to fuck off.” That was mostly true, at least, and it felt damn good to do it.
He sighed and shook his head. “Come on. You know Vince, you can’t disrespect him like that. You’ve got to play the game.”
The old anger rose up again as I took a few steps toward him. “I’ve been playing the fucking game my whole life,” I said, barely controlling myself. “Alex wanted to play the game, and he ended up dead. Do you remember Alex?”
His face remained expressionless as he nodded once. “I remember him. Friend of yours. Nice guy.”
“Dead for a long time now, all because he wanted to play. I’m sick of playing and tired of all this bullshit. I want to get the hell out of here.”
“I’ll talk to Vince,” he said, backing toward the door. I saw the discomfort then, and I guessed he didn’t like seeing me this angry, didn’t like seeing a woman with this much rage in her—or maybe he didn’t like the way he looked in my eyes, how it reflected a bad image of him.
I wanted to show them all, show each and every one of them how sick and broken they were. Vince talked about controlling the city and keeping order, but without the mafia, life would be better for people. It wasn’t the mafia that was keeping the city from itself—the city needed to keep itself from the mafia.
“Go ahead, but I’ll tell you right now he won’t care. My cousin’s long gone, and you followed him over into the deep end. How much did you cost, Dante?”
That got to him. “Vince might be wrong about this, but that doesn’t mean I’ll blindly follow him.”
“Then let me go, right now. Open the door and let me walk out. Hell, give me some money and help me escape. Do the right thing.”
He shook his head. “You know I won’t.”
“I know.” I sneered at him. “Because you’re like all the others. You think you’re better, but you’re wrong.”
“Take his offer. That’ll get you out of this mess.” He put one hand on the doorknob.
“I’m not interested in his offer. I just want to go back to my life.”
“Back to your husband?”
I clenched my jaw, but nodded once. I wasn’t ashamed of how I felt. “Back to Reid.”
“I feel bad for you, Cora, and I’ll help if I can, but you should help yourself first and take Vince’s offer. And apologize to him.”
“He can apologize to me then go fuck himself.”
A moment of anger flashed into his eyes. “You act like you’re the only one that gets beat up in this place.”
I laughed at the absurdity, and would’ve kept laughing if it didn’t hurt. “You walk around like kings.”
“I watch my friends die all the time. I kill when I need to, fight when I have to, and risk my neck for the goddamn family. You think you have it bad? You get to drift through life and all you have to do is put up with our shit.”
“You’ll never understand.”
“And you’ll never get over it if you don’t try.” He opened the door and turned to step into the hallway. “I’ll still do what I can for you, Cora.”
“Yeah, I bet you will, asshole.”
He shut the door, locked it, and left. I heard his footstep recede down the hallway.
I let out an angry scream and kicked the bed hard, then fell down to the floor gasping with pain. I gripped my foot and groaned, rolling side to side, tears in my eyes, cursing myself, cursing Vincent and Dante, and cursing the whole damn city.
Dante didn’t get it. This wasn’t about my freedom—if it were, I could learn to handle that, but this was about so much more than that. It was about dignity, being treated like a person instead of like an animal, having some small measure of control over my own existence. I couldn’t keep letting Vincent push me around, keep letting him dictate what I did.
I wanted something now. As I relaxed and lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, face throbbing, ribs throbbing, foot throbbing, I thought about Reid and about what he meant for me. It’d been so long since I wanted a man—since I was able to let one into my life. He represented choice and the future and everything that I thought I wanted out of life. He was a crazy choice, maybe a stupid one—but he was still a choice, one that made me feel good and one that I wanted to make, even if it was a mistake.
Dante couldn’t understand something like that and I’d never expect him to.
The day dragged past. They skipped lunch and dinner arrived an hour before the sun went down. It was pasta, jarred sauce that tasted like metal, grilled chicken, and a glass of water. I ate more because I was hungry and lightheaded than anything else.
At some point, it was dark outside, and I took a shower. I crawled into bed, still fully dressed, and curled up under the blankets, eyes squeezed shut, willing myself to fall asleep. The more I could sleep, the faster this would all pass, and maybe things would change, maybe things would get better for me.