Celeste;
I try not to get killed. I really do. But sometimes, getting killed is out of my control.
I don't know if that makes sense.
Perhaps it's the trembling side of me trying to override the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
The metal door is shut tight before me, but I know they took here. I saw them.
Brushing a hand over the handle, it clicks open silently. Flurries of anxiousness nestle in my chest as I step inside.
My gaze falls on an empty setting—it's the same as the room Romano took me to in the other club.
Confirming my suspicion, this one too belongs to the Giordanos. It's no surprise; the entire city of Palermo is theirs to wield.
Disappointment weighs on my chest. Empty executive seats, a massive mahogany desk, and not a speck of blood on the freakishly neat, dark grey floor.
Squinting and surveying the room, I find nothing. The silence is deafening, stale cold air brushing my face.
Maybe I got the room wrong? The thought grates at me.
My hands go to my hood atop my head, pulling it down to mask my face in shadow, then I whirl on my feet to leave in defeat, shoulders slumped.
Except I turn around and freeze—blood pounding in my ears, every muscle stiffening—God, men ought to stop sneaking up behind me.
A barrel presses to my head, and with a lurching heartbeat, I lift my arms in surrender.
Coasting a glance from the one with murder in his intent, and the other who regards me with heavy alert, I say, "Sorry, I must have trespassed, the—"
My excuse hasn't even landed when movement blurs my vision, and they launch for me. They're damn quick, and I can't find a gap to defend myself before they both have me in their grip—clutching either side of me in a deadly vice.
The hood of my sweats still draped over my face, I relent as they drag me to God knows where.
Tip of my booted toes skidding on the groutless floor.
Darkness begins to snuff out the lights until it's all I can see—feel—as I blend with it like a silky silhouette in the night, curling around my form, becoming tangible.
It only lasts a minute, though. The only thing my eyes can see is the stark ground, and the space glowing with dim flickering light beneath the door we're approaching. My breaths cave in.
Sticking out a foot, the one on my left nudges the door open; the metal groans in protest.
Another wave of darkness ensues, but this time…it's terrifying, stiff and pregnant with something…ghastly.
A putrid scent filters through my nostrils, almost making me gag. So strong and pungent—it's blood. The smell of stale blood.
My nerves prickle like pins beneath my skin, sweat pooling at my temple and nape.
We come to a standstill in a stuffy, claustrophobic space reeking of stale air.
Oxygen is scarce; only a small window at the very top of a far wall permits ventilation. An overhead lamp casts dim brightness on the enclosure, specks of lint slowly falling from its rays.
A screeching sound pierces my eardrums, making my pulse spark in alarm.
Abruptly, my suffering pauses as the two men right me on my feet, still holding my arms.
"We found her at the VIP meeting room, Boss," the one with the gun strapped to his holster says.
Blood whooshes in my ears; I resist the urge to lift my head, blissful ignorance replaced with acute stupidity—judging by how I've landed myself in this situation.
I hear a plain grunt, and my spine stiffens.
Suddenly, the men at my sides bow and retreat.
Still, I can sense I'm not alone; whoever the boss is, excluded.
Even the pungent scent thickens further down here, and I risk a careful sweep. A gasp tumbles out as a mangled body lies lifeless a few steps before me.
It's the body I saw being dragged earlier.
Eyes wide, I swallow past an invisible obstacle.
It's then that I register multiple breaths around me. We weren't alone.
"Are you going to reveal your face, or are you waiting for an order?"
Jesus. My blood runs cold.
That icy, smoky voice—I can't mistake it, even hallucinating.
Gulping for the umpteenth time, I don't move a muscle. I remain ramrod straight like my life depends on it.
The stagnant air crackles with static. Unease crawls through my spine.
What the fuck have I gotten myself into?
Movement stirs behind me, and one of his men reaches to rip the hood from my head. Before he can, a deafening bang splits the air, and he plops to the ground at my feet.
A jolt trickles through my veins. I stare wide-eyed at the lifeless body before me—now two. Blood pools beneath him.
It takes a minute before my lungs remind me I've starved them. I suck in a lungful through my mouth, slight tremors ricocheting through my body.
Why the hell would he do that?
A sinful thought crosses my mind, and I mentally squash it like a bug. Yet a feral heat lingers in a dusty corner of my chest.
"Will you take it off now? Or do you prefer I kill more of my men for attempting to touch you?"
That confirms it. Warmth spirals, spreading within me.
He knows it's me. How the fuck does he know it's me?
Tension curls around my muscles, panic steeling my bones.
Inhaling sharply, I lift shaky fingers to my head, grabbing the edge. I slowly take it off.
My gaze first meets leather boots, denim-clad long legs traveling up to a toned chest hidden behind a plain white T-shirt, a spectrum of dangerous ink coiled around his left arm, snaking all the way to his chest. I can see the ghost of it flaring beneath the shirt clinging to his form.
All at once, my breath stops short when my eyes clash with his untamed, ravenous gaze, scorching and imprinting my skin.
His expression is solid, all suave and rough edges, igniting everything dirty in the abyss of my mind.
My stomach fizzles with heat.
Our eye contact goes on for a blistering while, neither of us intending to cave—his, brusque and icy; mine, shaky and hazy.
Gunshots scatter the ambiance, muffled from a stretch away. Screams of dancing, horny clubgoers skew the air, horror livid in it.
We break contact.
More muffled shots are fired, and the sound of shattering glass and sparking electricity makes me jolt, a shiver caressing my back.
Once a powerful knock pounds on the other side, Caruso smirks at me. "Trouble seems to follow you everywhere, little viper," he says, cold and sinister.
The next thing I know, I'm on his lap—just as the door bursts open.