The Marriage Debt: Chapter 21

For fifteen minutes, I’ve been running through the city with no idea where I am and not a clue where I’m headed. I thought I knew where Luca lived, but I was wrong. This place seems so unfamiliar to me, and I don’t have a phone to check a map because Luca took it. I could ask someone, but I’m too scared they’re in some way connected to the De Vos family or mine. I can’t risk getting caught.

I’m wandering aimlessly through the city. Shadows lurk in every corner, freaking me out.

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to run without being prepared.

When it feels like one of the shadows begins to follow me, I ramp up the pace.

My heart is racing in my chest as I flee from whoever’s following me, hoping no one will find me. But if I know Luca well enough, he has spies all over the city.

Never alone, never really free, even when I run.

Still, I run harder, and harder, and harder.

No matter how out of breath it makes me, no matter how much my feet start to hurt from the high heels on my soles, and no matter how exhausted I get, I keep running. Because running is the only thing that reminds me of being alive.

And I will live, goddammit.

I head into an alley down the road. I have to find a street that I recognize so I can find my way around and make an escape. Or better yet, find any of Easton’s establishments and hide inside until I can contact him there and ask him to help me get my freedom back.

Bolstered by the mere idea, I rush through the alley and come out on a street near the docks. There aren’t many people here, and the grimy look of the buildings gives me the creeps.

Still, I push on because that shadow was still behind me.

What if he’s one of Luca’s spies?

I have to shake him off.

I run across the street to the harbor and follow the road up to a warehouse that’s lit. Maybe I can go inside and find someone to lend me their phone. Then I can call Easton and find a safe harbor. Then get my sister.

But when I open a door, there’s nothing but a few crackheads smoking around a dim light, and when they all gaze up and notice me, I freeze.

“Uh …”

I feel like I stumbled into a private meeting.

This isn’t the best idea I had.

“What the fuck doe jij hier?” one of them says in Dutch.

What the fuck are you doing here?

“Sorry, wrong building,” I mutter.

When I turn around, someone blocks my way. A junkie with matted hair, torn clothes, and a mean look on his face makes me stumble back.

“Hmm … English, huh?” he says. When I attempt to pass him, he keeps blocking me. “Hey now, no need to leave,” he says, blowing out smoke in my face until I cough. “Want a drag?”

“No, thanks,” I say, trying to stay friendly. “I got lost, that’s all.”

“Lost?” One of the crackheads in the back laughs. “We’re all lost in here, girl. Come take a drag. We won’t bite.”

“Ja, we bijten niet,” another one says in Dutch, which means the same thing.

“No, thanks. I’d like to leave,” I say, but he refuses to let me open the door.

Fuck.

I don’t like where this is going.

“C’mon, sit down. We could use a little company from a girl like you,” he says, looking up and down my dress like he’s never seen anything like it before. “You look like you can afford some time off.”

One in the back opens his mouth. “Hey, vind je haar niet lijken op die mafia gasten? Je weet wel … De Vos en Baas.”

My eyes widen.

One of them just asked another if I look familiar … if I look like a De Vos or Baas.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This is not looking good.

“Ja, nu dat je het zegt,” another one says.

Now that you say it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I have people waiting for me, and I need to go. Now,” I say with my head held high, but my voice is quaky as hell.

When the matted-hair guy grabs my arm, I stomp on his foot. “Don’t touch me.”

The mean face turns to rage. “You hurt me,” he growls. “You think that’s okay?”

I jerk the door, but it won’t budge. Right then, the smelly dude wraps his arms around my waist and drags me back to where the others are sitting.

I scream, but he covers my mouth with his filthy hands. “Don’t fucking scream. It’s not necessary. We only wanna share.”

“Yeah … share … that sounds nice,” one of them says.

Oh, fuck no.

These dudes are completely out of their minds on these drugs.

“Get off me!” I yell, fighting him every step of the way. “I didn’t ask for this!”

“Yeah, well you busted in on us. It’s only fair of you to come join us now,” one of them says.

Another one gets up. “But I don’t think I just want her to have a taste of the goods …” The viciousness in his voice makes all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

This is not good. Not fucking good.

“Yeah, c’mere girl. We can have fun, and you can run off in those expensive shoes back to where you came from after we’re done,” another one says.

“No, let me out of here!” I say as one of them pulls me onto his lap.

“What’s that around your neck? A collar?”

I squeal when the guy wraps an arm around my waist, and tears stain my eyes.

“Relax, girl. It won’t hurt if you stop struggling.”

I fight him off, but it’s no use. It’s five against one, and I’m no match, despite the fact that they’re all drugged out of their minds.

Suddenly, the door slams open. A raised boot is all I see as a light shines inside. I block my eyes to keep it from blinding me. But a word still manages to squeak its way out of my throat. “Help.”

Something black and metallic is raised in the light.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

Five shots.

One long squeal emanates from my throat as I duck for cover onto the floor, and blood splatters all around me.

It all happens so fast that it barely registers with me until the gunshots have stopped, and all that’s left are the lifeless bodies of the five men who tried to grope me. And me, on the floor in front of them, covered in blood.

I wish it was the first time I’ve seen blood, but it’s not, and the sight doesn’t make me fearful.

It’s what I’ve grown used to in this mafia world.

Men taking what they want, regardless of who gets hurt.

And if you get in their way … you die.

Years ago

Gunshots ricochet against the walls of our home. My father is out there. I can hear his voice as he yells orders at the men who work for us.

Men I’m supposed to trust with my life as I sit here in the closet with my mother and my sister, waiting for this fight to blow over.

Waiting for my father to win.

There is nothing but bloodshed out there.

Nothing but dead bodies and men who want to steal us to settle a debt.

My father can handle them, right?

This isn’t the first time they’ve come for us. He’s done it before, and he’ll do it again.

But my mother’s strong grip on my shoulder tells me enough. Even she is scared.

“Vera! Stay put!” my father yells, the sound of his voice making us all jolt up.

He’s still alive.

But his voice cracks as though he’s in pain.

Shit. I have to help him.

Without thinking, I push past my mother and throw open the closet door. “Jill, no!” my mother’s shrill voice begs, but I still run for the door.

When I open it, there’s a man’s back right in front of me.

He’s looking right at me over his shoulder.

It’s not my father, and the vicious smile on his face makes all the blood drain from my face.

I shriek as he spins around to grasp me.

BANG!

I close my eyes.

Blood sprays on my face.

FLOP!

It’s the sound of a body dropping to the floor.

I’m too scared to open my eyes.

“Jill.” My father’s voice forces me to look.

The man lies facedown on the floor in our hallway, our home.

And my father’s gun smokes from the trail left behind of this murder.

“Get back inside, and don’t come out until I say so,” my father barks at me, and he grabs the handle and shuts the door.

Now I understand what he meant when he said it was important that we moved away to another country.

He wants to keep us safe.

But I know it’s not the men out there who are a danger to our lives.

It’s this mobster family.

Nowhere is safe.

Present

I blink a couple of times to remind myself I’m awake as the gun is lowered. The light turns softer until I finally see the one face that instantly makes me cry.

“Luca …” I mutter as a tear runs down my cheek.

One of the men on the ground groans, so Luca swiftly walks up to him, fishing a knife from his pocket. The same knife from all those years ago. The one he’s carried with him for so many years to torment whoever he wanted, including me.

He grabs the man’s head by the hair and rams it into his throat.

I flinch and crawl away, covering my mouth with my hand to stop the bile from rising.

One final groan and the guy is gone for good.

Luca swiftly pulls out his knife and wipes it on a napkin before chucking that on top of the body. He walks toward me in such a calm and collected manner it momentarily makes me forget I’m surrounded by dead bodies.

Then he homes in on me.

The dark, violent look on his face reminds me of my father when he first killed someone in front of me. But that was to save his family and to destroy enemies.

This?

This savagery was only meant to save me from my own mistake.

A bloody show of power by a cruel knight in not-so-shining armor.

So then why is my heart all fluttery?

And without even so much as looking at them, Luca goes to his knees in front of me, and asks, “Are you okay?”