Page 7 of Merciless Queen (Moretti Mafia #1)

Harlow

I groaned, my eyes slowly fluttering open as I regained consciousness, disoriented by the muted darkness.

My stomach churned, bile rising with a bitter, acidic burn that crept up the back of my throat.

My surroundings were dim and daunting, the air musty and thick with an unpleasant, deathly smell.

When you were trapped for years, the smell of death was a learned scent.

My eyes struggled to adjust, but the darkness was dominant, only highlighting vague, indistinct shapes.

I moved my hands, wincing when metal rattled and chains dug into my skin. Waking up, I realized I was on cold cement; the sensation sent chills up my spine as I tried to make sense of where I was. Did Vincenzo change his mind about me?

Panic surged through me like a punishing tidal wave.

My heart pounded so violently, it felt like it might explode.

I struggled to breathe, gasping for air in the suffocating darkness.

Panicking was pointless when I did not know where I was or who my new captor was.

My hands trembled uncontrollably, causing my body to shake and the chains to tug at my wrists more.

I pulled at my restraints, trying to look around the room.

Basement. No. No. No. I thought I was safe.

What did I do? Why did he send me here? I couldn’t survive here.

It felt like a volcano had finally erupted in my chest, and there was no stopping the panic and anger spiraling inside me.

My breathing came in frantic, ragged gasps.

My heart pounded erratically like a drumbeat in my chest.

I struggled against the restraints, pulling and fighting. “I’m sorry! Please, Vincenzo!” I sobbed, pulling the chain even more until I felt a sting of pain radiate down my arm. “Please. Please. Please! I’ll be a good wife.”

Blood trickled down my wrists, warm and unsettlingly tangible.

The warmth contrasted sharply with the cool, bitter air around me.

My lungs constricted. The air felt like sandpaper scraping in and out, not nearly enough.

I couldn’t breathe. I was going to die. He was going to win.

He always fucking won. My breathing came in broken, rapid pants as my chest felt tight.

Was this what a heart attack felt like? My skin was on fire, like I was being burned from the inside out.

“Calm down…” a voice said, the words distorting. There was a halo of light around the looming figure, like an angel in the night. There were no angels in this life, only monsters ready to drag me to the pits of hell.

Dark looming figures reached for me . Don’t touch me.

Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. I wanted to scream, to beg.

To fight. But it was pointless. It only caused pain.

The hands felt like razor blades on my skin, pulling away my flesh layer by layer as I struggled against them.

“NO! NO! NO!” I thrashed, feeling more blood drip from my arms.

It was too much. The room was distorting, the lights stabbing into me like a million tiny needles.

My skin was screaming like fire ants taking refuge under my skin, making my body recoil.

The looming figure hovered above me, something sharp in its hands.

This was it. I was going to die. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, please. No. No. NO!”

Then the room tilted. My hands were released from their restraints, but they felt like lead. Cold cement kissed my burning skin, but everything felt distant, and I felt like I was floating. Serenity. Peace. My mom would be waiting for me. My mom. I could see her again.

“Mom, I'm coming.” I thought the words fell from my mouth, but it sounded foreign, strange.

I let go.

And then everything went dark.

My soul was completely shattered as I cradled the tattered shirt in my hands and sobbed.

It was the last thing I had of her. I would never see her again, or hear her soothing voice when she comforted me.

I would never feel her fingers through my hair or hear her sing to me when everything became foggy.

Even in our darkest days, she had the voice of an angel.

She always made me feel safe, even when I was terrified.

Without her, I had nothing left. There was no reason to fight anymore.

“I love you, Mama. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

The door flew open, and I jumped, seeing Vincenzo and Xavier walking into the room. I cowered away from them and shrunk into my body. He didn’t like that, and yanked me up by my arm, pulling me to his body before his fingers tangled into my hair and he jerked my head back, exposing my neck to him.

“You are mine, Harlow. Every inch of you belongs to me.” He pulled me into him, his mouth kissing my neck, making my skin crawl. “But unfortunately for you, there’s still a debt that needs to be paid.”

My body stilled.

“B-But…I’m not eighteen.”

He pulled back from me, keeping a firm grip on my hair. “You’ll be eighteen in a week. No one will ever take you from me. Tonight, I will make you mine in every way.”I felt my stomach drop as someone injected something into me, and everything faded to black.

For the next three days, all I felt was pain and agony. Vincenzo wasn’t gentle. Even when his dick wouldn’t fit inside me, he forced it. He tore me in two. My screaming made him excited.

“My whore.”

Every time he forced himself into me, he told me how I was getting ready to please his customers, his men, and anyone else who wanted me in order to pay my father’s debt.

He said I was his, but why was I being shared?

My father’s debt still had seven years left to pay, and during that time I would work in his club, being brutalized by him and his clients.

He said I would be a special reward for his men, too.

An initiation. If they got me, they got the rank. I was his whore.

I would be his men’s whore.

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t live a life of such brutality.

Vincenzo left me in his room. He needed to handle cartel business. When I knew it was safe, I crawled into the bathroom. Everything hurt. I was sure he broke a few ribs with how rough he was bringing me here. It didn’t help that I fought him.

My legs shook as I looked at myself in the mirror.

A broken sob escaped my lips as I clutched onto my chest, waiting for my heart to burst out.

My body was bloody and covered with dark, ugly bruises.

My lips were swollen and bloody from where he bit me too hard.

My thighs were covered in semen and blood. It made my stomach roll.

He did it.

He broke me.

He ruined every part of me in a matter of minutes.

I couldn’t live this life without my mother.

I punched the bathroom mirror, shattering as I grasped a shard in my hand, clutching it closely.

Everything could be done in a matter of moments.

He wouldn’t find me on time, and I would bleed out.

He couldn’t have me. I would be reunited with my mom and there would be no more pain.

The glass dug into my skin as my blood flowed out. It was beautiful. It was peaceful. I fell to the ground, waiting for the beautiful kiss of death and my mama’s sweet lullaby.

Death would be beautiful.