Page 30 of Shattered King

Fiorella

I stare at myself in the mirror. The taste of sick is still trapped in my mouth. I rinse it out, brush my teeth, and groan.

I am such a freaking mess.

“You really screwed this up,” I whisper as I start to get dressed. It’s early, a little past seven, and I’m only awake because the morning sickness dragged me out of bed. “You really, really fucked up.”

I had him.

Yesterday in the garage tent, I had everything I wanted.

He was offering to give me a future. With that credit card in hand, I could buy anything I want. A little careful planning plus a limitless line of credit is more than enough to plan my escape. It sure as hell beats scrounging up cash from his drawers.

But I couldn’t do it.

I freaked out. He was offering me everything I need, and I shoved it back at him. Mostly because of how badly I wanted it. That card represented a future I’ve always dreamed about but never really thought I’d get. That card was everything to me.

I should’ve taken it.

I had sex with him instead.

He must think I’m deranged. What rational person would turn down that offer? It’s not like there were strings attached. Luca doesn’t care about money. He has plenty. It makes no sense to refuse to take the card. It’s not like he was forcing me to use it.

He deserves more than what I’m giving him.

It just isn’t fair. Luca’s a good man. He’s vicious and violent, but he cares about me. He gives me what I need and seems to genuinely put my needs and wants ahead of his own. All the while, I’ve done nothing but plan on running away from him while hiding a massive secret.

I have to tell him about the baby.

It’s time. I can’t keep going on like this. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a bad person, and I don’t think I could live with myself if I hid this from him any longer. Maybe I’ll still run away, and maybe he’ll respect that and let me go, but I can’t do it like this.

Not with this massive secret growing in my belly.

I head out into the hallway and down the stairs. The second to last step creaks, and I hop over it, trying to tell myself I’m strong, I can handle this, and if I can fix cars, then I can tell my husband that I’m pregnant.

But as I start to head down into the basement, my resolve begins to slip.

What if he freaks out? What if he keeps me locked up in our room or something?

He’s got some weirdly old-fashioned ideas.

Maybe he’ll force me to stay in bed like it’s the eighteenth century or whatever.

I reach the last step and look out over the basement home gym, and suddenly I don’t know how I’m going to do this.

Luca’s just finishing. He’s sitting on a bench, hunched over, in a black tank top and shorts.

Sweat mists his gorgeous body. His muscles are incredible, and the ink on his arms still makes me shiver.

How could a man like this really care so much about me?

I want to pretend like he’s nothing more than a mafia asshole, but I’ve seen a side of Luca that I never thought would be there.

He’s warm. He’s caring. And he wants to give me a good life.

Here I am, trying to run away from him.

Slowly, he looks up. Our eyes meet. And all my resolve evaporates into mist.

“You okay?” he asks, wiping his forehead with a towel.

“I’m fine. Wanted to see what you were up to.” That sounds so lame, and I’m embarrassed the second I say it.

But he smiles instead. Like he’s happy I’m searching him out. “Just got finished. You hungry?”

I touch my stomach. “Not particularly.” Should I tell him that I’ve been getting sick most mornings? He hasn’t noticed yet because he’s usually gone before I’m up. But can I keep it from him forever? “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Anything you want.” He leans back. I admire his chest and his stomach. His lips pull into a crooked smile, and god, he’s too handsome.

“Do you have a panic room?”

I don’t know why the question spills out, but I say it before I can stop myself. My heart’s racing all over again, and my fingers feel tingly and numb. He frowns slightly and shakes his head.

“Never saw the need for one. Would you feel better if I did?”

“No,” I say quickly, much too quickly. “No, not at all. I’m kind of relieved. I mean, I hate those things.” I laugh awkwardly and wish I could fold myself inside out and disappear into the universe.

He’s studying me now. God, this was dumb. Luca isn’t stupid. He knows something’s going on. “You can talk about it, you know. If you want to tell me.”

I open my mouth, ready to make some joke or stupid comment to deflect, but I stop before I can.

He looks so earnest, and suddenly I feel all that horror and sadness pressing up against my throat.

What if I really did talk about it? Would that be so bad?

I didn’t come down here for this, but maybe it’s a good first step.

Let him see a piece of me I try to keep hidden. Let him inside, at least a little bit.

“I guess you kind of figured out I had a bad experience a while back.”

“You and your sister.”

I nod a little and sink down onto the floor. I sit cross-legged on a mat. He joins me, one hand on my knee.

“I was thirteen. Elisa was eleven…”

“What’s that noise?” Elisa stood in my doorway looking confused. She was clutching an old stuffy against her chest. A ratty teddy bear she hadn’t played with in years. Our rooms shared a door that we kept unlocked and open most of the time. “Is someone lighting off fireworks?”

More cracks and explosions from outside.

Someone screams like they’re in pain, and I know what’s happening.

I shouldn’t know, but I know, because I know what my family does.

They try to hide it around the younger kids except I’m not that young anymore.

I’m old enough to see and hear things I shouldn’t.

“Those are gunshots,” I say, jumping out of bed. “And I think they’re close.”

Elisa’s eyes go wide. She always was small and scared.

I hurry over to her, not sure what we’re supposed to do, and pull her against me.

We retreat back into my bed, and I hold her tight as the shooting gets louder and the screams get louder, and suddenly the whole house trembles as something explodes.

“What’s happening?” she whimpers.

I don’t answer. How can I explain? Dad’s enemies are trying to kill him. People are dying out there. I don’t want her to think about it.

But we aren’t safe.

“Come on.” I get out of bed and pull her with me.

My heart’s racing. I feel sick. “We have to hurry.” I lead her out into the hall.

She trails after me. Men run past, my father’s guards hurrying away.

They’re yelling, and there are screams and crying from downstairs.

The gunshots are louder now. Like the fireworks are going off right next to my ear.

“Fiorella! Elisa!” Marcus Putellas is suddenly there. He’s one of my father’s most trusted guards. Usually, he’s a total asshole, but right now I’m happy to see him. He grabs me by the arm. “Hurry, this way. Fucking run!”

He drags us down the hall. Elisa’s straight-out crying now. I’m trying hard not to cry too. Marcus kicks open a side door and pushes us into an empty bedroom. But he keeps going, rushing over to the closet, where he rips out clothes and pounds a code into a hidden panel.

A door beeps and the panic room opens. It’s black inside. The lighting doesn’t work yet.

“Get inside.” Marcus grabs me by the arm.

“Wait, no.” I shake my head, trying to back away. “Raf said it’s not finished. It only opens from the outside. He said it’s broken and we shouldn’t play near it anymore.”

“You wanna fucking die instead? Get the fuck inside.” Marcus throws me hard into the cramped hidden space.

I hit the far wall, crying out. It hurts and I don’t know what’s happening.

Elisa comes after, crying and clutching onto me as I struggle to sit on the floor, my head ringing and pounding.

Marcus stands in the doorway, looking grim, as more gunshots go off. “We’ll get you soon.”

The door slams and we’re in darkness.

We screamed for a while.

It didn’t help.

“He’s going to come back soon,” Elisa whispers for the millionth time. “It’ll be soon, right, Fio?”

“Yeah, it’ll be soon.” I push the water bottle into her hands. “Drink this.”

“But we’re almost out.”

“That’s okay. You drink it.”

“Fio—”

“Just drink the water, Elisa. They’ll come for us soon, right? Then it won’t matter.”

Elisa whimpers, and I hear her take a long drink.

It’s all the water we have. After that, we’re out.

Dad never bothered stocking the panic room because we weren’t supposed to use it yet.

He kept saying he was going to have someone come out and finish it up, but he just never did.

And I never really cared. When would we ever need a stupid panic room?

I thought it was dumb when he had it built to begin with.

I don’t know how long we’ve been in here.

But I’d guess at least two days. We’ve had a single bottle of water between us, and I’ve given Elisa most of it. My mouth is so dry, and I’d do just about anything for a drink.

But we could be in here for another few days, and what would happen to Elisa if I take some for myself?

She’d die. That’s what.

“He’ll come get us,” Elisa says over and over again. “Marcus won’t forget. He knows we’re here. He’ll come for us. He’ll come.”

More time passes.

The water disappears.

My head pounds like someone’s trying to break it open.

The gunshots stopped a long time ago, but everything else has been silent.

I try to sleep as much as I can because being awake is terrible.

I can’t think. I can barely breathe. My mouth tastes like cotton, and my skin feels like it’s flaking away.

I need to get out of here.

Elisa’s crying again. I’m tempted to lick her tears up. “They’ll come,” she says, hugging her knees.

“They’ll come,” I agree, but I don’t even know who they are anymore.