Page 5 of Merciless Queen (Moretti Mafia #1)

Harlow

Vincenzo shattered every piece of my soul, and living was going to be brutal.

My arm was throbbing where he cut out my birth control, leaving me to bleed on the bed after he raped me over and over.

God, please don’t let me get pregnant. All my other silent prayers went unanswered, so why would he listen to this one?

I refused to have a baby born into this life.

He only needed me to give them life, but I would never be allowed to be a mother to them, not really.

They would rip away a little boy from me and mold him into a monster like Vincenzo.

God forbid I had a little girl. They would take her and shape her into a perfect little plaything for a sick bastard, making her live the life that I was forced into.

He could hurt me all he wanted, but he would not hurt my children.

I’d find my way out before I ever allowed it.

Pain rippled through my body as I forced myself out of Vincenzo’s bed.

He gave me enough freedom to venture around his bedroom, but not to leave.

I stumbled to the bathroom, collapsing in front of the toilet and releasing the little bit that was in my stomach.

My throat burned as nothing came up, but I forced something out.

I preferred the taste of stomach bile burning my throat than the rancid taste of him.

I crawled to the shower, turning on the hot water and crawling into the stream.

It was like liquid fire on my skin, but it burned him and every other man off of me.

The showers at the place they kept the girls only had lukewarm water, nasty tiles, and disgusting bar soap for our hair and bodies.

Nothing where we could scrub the filth we endured off of our bodies.

When he would bring me here, we showered together, another form of mental torment.

He never let me have privacy, so why was he doing it now?

I winced as I pulled my knees to my chest, watching the blood stain the water as it flowed down the drain.

My hand shook as I lifted it to look at the heavy jewelry on my ring finger.

The weight was soul crushing. Everyone said the boss bought an expensive ring for his woman.

If it wasn’t a prison sentence, I would think the diamond ring was beautiful.

Vincenzo got off on his men raping me. He would use me as a reward.

If the new men did well on a task and obeyed Vincenzo, they would get me.

Xavier and Sebastian were the first ones to have me seven years ago.

After the first six months, I lost count of how many people Vincenzo gave me to.

I was his star girl at the club, and people paid a lot to have me.

Was he really going to lose all that money just to keep me for himself?

I shuddered at the thought of carrying his baby.

I wanted to be a mom. I wanted a lot of things before my future got ripped from under me.

I wanted to be a teacher. Specifically, an English or art teacher.

Preferably art. Art and reading were two of my favorite things, and I would lose myself for hours painting and sketching.

If I found a good book that I lost myself in, I would paint the world I envisioned in my head.

I hadn’t picked up a paintbrush or a book in years.

I didn’t know if I could even still paint anymore.

Now I was going to be stuck here. I needed to fight him.

I needed to try to escape, but I knew what happened to girls who tried to escape this life.

They didn’t die. Not at first. They got sent to the bordello, abused and beaten until they couldn’t fight anymore, before being chained to a wall and dying a slow death.

Sometimes they got a bullet to the head to end their misery.

And sometimes they left open cuts and infected them, so they got a fever and died slowly.

It was a brutal death.

I had a friend once. She was nine years older than me, but she was the one that Vincenzo assigned to me to help me adapt to my new life a few weeks before my mom died.

She was also there for me after she passed.

And then, she wanted to escape. When she told me she was going to escape and she wanted me to go with her, I agreed.

I was desperate to escape and be free, but I was scared.

My fear made it harder, and because of that, we were captured.

If she had escaped on her own, she would still be alive. The guilt still gnawed on my soul.

Vincenzo wouldn’t let me be in his bordello, but he made me watch as they tormented her.

Everything they did to her was my fault.

They tortured her. Cut. Stabbed. Raped her with broken objects.

Her body was physically dying, but seeing the void in her blue eyes told me her soul had died a long time ago.

He made me watch for a few hours before he took me to my own personal hell.

My scar throbbed. The pain felt like it was still fresh instead of being almost six years old. He branded me like cattle before he made me beg for death. I wanted to die. I still wanted to die. There was no future while I was in his grasp.

Reaching for the body wash, I scrubbed my body until my skin burned.

Between my legs, I felt a throb as I gently cleaned myself.

Maybe I needed to accept my fate and be a good wife to a monster, but I couldn’t.

I couldn’t love him. It didn’t matter how many times he mumbled that white lie to me after his release.

If he truly loved me, he wouldn’t be a monster.

If he loved me, he wouldn’t have ruined my life ten years ago. He wouldn’t have killed my mother.

I weakly pulled myself out of the shower, drying off and changing into the night clothes I found in the dresser.

These were nicer than anything I’d had in a long time.

At the club, we had old t-shirts we’d lounge in, but they bought us the best lingerie to please the guests.

I guess I should’ve been grateful for this.

“Harlow.” I was snapped from my daydream, and I sighed. Back to reality. “Guess I’ll have to dirty you back up when I get home,” Vincenzo said, slowly looking at me from head to toe.

“You’re leaving?”

“Moretti decided to bomb my shipment. Stupid cunt. She’s getting bold. I will be home later. I love you.”

I looked at him and said nothing. He didn’t like that. He wrapped his hand around my throat, taking what little breath I had as he slammed me roughly against the bathroom wall. “Vincenzo.” I clawed at his hand. “Please.”

“Life would be easier if you just obey. Say it. Tell me.”

“I…I l-love you.” The lie tasted like poison on my tongue.

His thumb traced my lip. “Now kiss me goodbye and mean it.”

I wanted to crawl into a hole and just die. I pressed my lips to his in a deep kiss, running my tongue across his lip. It took everything in me not to gag when his tongue slid into my mouth. He tasted like poison and cigarettes. My mind tried to slip somewhere else, but I was so fucking exhausted.

“If you learn to behave, I won’t have to hurt you. Life will be better for you.”

I nodded, and he let go of me. “C-Can I leave the room? Please.”

His brow arched. “Yes. There are guards all over the perimeter. If you try to leave, they will shoot you. Not to kill you, but it’ll be painful. Then I will punish you.”

I nodded. “T-Thank you.” He left the room, and I let out the pained sob I was holding in. This was my new reality.

The clothing felt suffocating even though they hung off my frail frame.

How was I desirable when I was falling apart at the seams?

After waiting for another twenty minutes, I finally left the room.

I wanted to make sure he was gone before I left the bedroom.

Everything hurt and I knew I’d have fresh bruises on top of the old ones in the morning, but it didn’t matter.

I was trapped in a prison with fancy wallpaper and staff, but it was still the same prison like the club and the warehouse where he kept us.

His home was a part of the mask he wore.

His business was the way he trapped women, but I didn’t know what he did apart from the club and trafficking.

It wasn’t a legitimate business if he used it to trap and kidnap innocent people, but people must’ve fallen for it.

The walls were elegant; the atmosphere was clean.

Hell, he had a grand piano in the corner.

His home made him look sophisticated when he was a sick monster.

Being comfortable here was a lie. It doesn’t matter if I could breathe without the walls closing in on me.

It was a fictional life that he wanted. A wife.

Children running around the halls of this house.

Laughter filling the rooms. It was fake.

Vincenzo destroyed anything he touched. Vincenzo could say he loved me all he wanted, but he just wanted a body in his bed and a vessel to carry his children.

This house represented the misery he created and the lives he destroyed.

When my mother died, he brought me here for the first time.

When he sent for me before, he would keep me in his office instead of taking me to his home.

Vincenzo was preparing me for that night.

I barely had time to mourn her before he stripped me and stole my innocence.

His home felt like a prison inside a personal hell.

When I was there, I heard screams. I never figured out if it was my imagination or if there was another girl trapped there.

I walked into the kitchen and my stomach grumbled.

It had been years since I had authentic food.

Even being his favorite, I still had the same slop the other girls had—dry chicken and gravy, with freezer burnt carrots and overcooked rice.

Vincenzo would sometimes change it up for me when he wanted to be romantic, but most times the food was bland—bagged salad with carrots and cucumbers.

If I asked him nicely and got on my knees, he would let me have dressing, but it was never worth it.

Sometimes they gave us breakfast, and sometimes Vincenzo would bring me breakfast in bed after a night of brutalization.

I ate because it meant I had a few minutes of peace without him touching me.

My stomach recoiled as soon as I saw the food in his refrigerator, even if the fresh strawberries looked heavenly.

I didn’t think I'd be able to eat any of this without throwing it back up. If I got sick, he’d want to comfort me, and I didn’t want him to touch me.

My fingers grazed my throat, feeling the bruising.

It had been two nights of being his fiancée, and I was more bruised and broken than before.

Being loved by him would be my demise, and a lifetime with him would be pure agony.

The butcher knives caught my eye, and I reached for the biggest one, running my fingertips over the sharp edge.

It would be easy to end it all right now, to puncture my heart and bleed out before he even came home, but I never wanted a brutal death.

I experienced enough pain in my life, and I refused to feel it in death, even if it meant dealing with Vincenzo Mancini for a few more years.

Putting the knife back, I reached for the loaf of wheat bread.

If I gained his trust, would I be able to escape?

My mother never wanted this to be my life.

She cried every night thinking I was sleeping, but I heard her.

She cursed God and my father for allowing this to happen to me.

My mother never cared about the abuse and agony she was forced to endure, only my fate.

I missed her so much. Escaping would be for her, even if I died trying.

I wrapped the dry toast in a paper towel and walked back upstairs.

Was it bad that I didn’t want Vincenzo to die right now and instead come back home?

If he died, I would be screwed. I would be passed to the next person, or thrown into the bordello, or sold to the highest bidder.

Him being alive guaranteed me some form of safety. My life was a mess.

A pained gasp escaped my lips as I crawled back into the bed.

Vincenzo wasn’t gentle—he never was, but the last two nights he was possessive, leaving his mark on me.

He said I was finally his— only his —and he had to make sure I remembered that.

I shuddered at the word he made me call him last night when he brought me to an orgasm.

I ate half a piece of toast before my stomach disagreed.

Placing the napkin on the bedside table, I pulled the covers over my head and sank into the soft bed.

Food was the last thing I needed, but if I wanted to fight, I needed strength.

It would be a problem for future me. Right now, I just wanted to sleep in peace without worrying about Vincenzo touching me.

He would be home soon, so I would have to enjoy the solitude while I could.

Slowly dozing off, I dreamed of a better life, one where my mom was still alive and playing with her grandchildren.

A life where I was married to an amazing partner who never hurt me.

A life where I was happy, loved, and valued.

One where I was not owned and forced to do things with men who hurt me. A merry life.

A false reality.

A dream.

Something covered my mouth, lodging a scream in my throat, and fumes invaded my senses. I kicked my legs, but the drug was already taking effect, and I was too weak to put up a fair fight. Did Vincenzo change his mind and decide it was too much of a hassle to keep me?

“ Stai zitto e forse non ti ucciderò .” Be quiet and maybe I won’t kill you.

The voice was feminine and rough. Everything faded around me until all I saw were those green eyes penetrating my soul.