Page 29 of Villainous Kingpin

Mamma wasn’t here to stop him.

The car came to a sudden stop. Before I could blink, the car door opened and Father hit me hard across the face.

“Stop crying!”

He gripped me by my shirt, glaring at me, but I must have still been crying because he hit me even harder.

“Let’s go,” he ordered, yanking me by my arm. The neighborhood was rough, glances thrown our way quickly averted.

“That whore thinks she can run away from me,” he hissed, his face twisted with rage. “Take my daughter.” He gripped my arm tighter, wrenching me along. My shoulder hurt, his fingers dug into my arms, but I didn’t dare to make a sound.

We came to a ragged looking door, the familiar cry of a baby sounding through it. Father didn’t bother knocking. He kicked the door open and familiar dark brown eyes full of fear met Father and I.

Screaming filled the small, dirty space. My father’s body collided into my mother’s, then the pitch of her screams rose a few notches. So did my baby sister’s. I ran to her, took her off the floor and sat her down on my lap. Just the way my mother taught me. It was the only way she’d ever let me hold my baby sister, and while her screams pitched, I tried hard to soothe her.

I watched with tight lungs as Father hit Mamma again. “Stop,” I yelled at him, my voice wobbly. “Stop, Papà. Please.”

His face twisted into an ugly and scary mask as his anger shifted to me. I braced myself because I knew another blow was coming. I shifted my body and sheltered my baby sister on my lap, right as my father backhanded me. His palm connected with my right cheek, the burning sensation instant and tears stung my eyes.

Then his attention returned to my mother, as he pulled out a knife and gripped it tightly. I watched in horror as he took two strides, then sliced her throat before she even had a chance to open her mouth and beg for her life.

I froze, watching my mamma gurgle, choking on her own blood and her eyes wide with terror. She gasped, despair in her eyes as she watched me. No, not me… my baby sister. Father pushed her onto the floor and blood quickly pooled around her, each second taking her further and further away from me. From us.

The scent of copper mixed with Mamma's perfume and fragranced the air. I watched the light slowly extinguish her dark brown eyes, leaving frozen horror on her face. Sad and lonely, scared, staring at me.

Except she didn’t see me.

It was the first dead body I had seen and by no means the last one.

Eventually, I learned Father had a chip installed in my mother that allowed him to track her. She was doomed from the start.

* * *

Later that day, after only a few hours of sleep, I got a message from my father. He wanted to see Dante and me.

What crappy timing,I grumbled silently.

I hoped after the whole ordeal with The Eastside, there’d be no need to see him. At least for another few weeks.

Dante gave me a questioning look. “Why in the fuck does he want to seeme?”

I grimaced. “Would you like me to relay that message?”

He scoffed, though he looked like he swallowed a bitter pill. “No. We all know how much he likes to be questioned.” His voice held sarcasm as he made his remark. “I should have left last night, now I have to talk to him before going to the airport.”

“I’m sure your plane won’t leave without you,” I retorted dryly. “Let’s go so you can head back to Chicago.”

When we arrived in front of the mansion on Fifth Avenue, I had to fight the urge to torch the whole goddamn building to ashes. I hated this fucking place. I hated my fucking father. And most of all, I hated the darkness that thrived in the memories that this place evoked.

Parking my car at the bottom of the stairs leading to the double doors, just the way my father hated, Dante and I exited the car, then headed up the stairs. This place was secured better than the White House. There were high-tech cameras everywhere and guards.

We ran into Thalia, Emilia’s daughter and the woman my father purchased through the Belles and Mobsters auction from Benito King about five years back.

She lingered in the entrance hall, eyeing the exit longingly. Fuck, I wanted to take her out of this hell. Her face was smeared with tears and a black bruise marked the whole side of her right face.

She whimpered at seeing us, taking a step back. Both Dante and I stilled.

“Fuck,” he muttered.