Owned: Chapter 22

We eat with my mother at her table like we’re some kind of ordinary family enjoying time together. I watch Ricardo make a fool out of himself with tricks while Mario and Andrea are having a cute heart-to-heart conversation about the troubles of raising a difficult child. Not something I want to eavesdrop on, but it’s hard not to at a table this size.

Still, no matter how many smiles are at this table, I cannot get myself to actually swallow a single bite.

Marcello is still out there, in Molly and Frank’s clutches, and I’m over here pretending everything is fine.

But it’s not. I can’t sit still and eat and sleep when he is being tortured or even worse.

So I put down my fork and look at Andrea’s cell phone.

“What are you doing, dear?” Andrea asks when she notices, and everybody stops eating.

“Looking at some texts,” I say, sighing out loud when it’s too hard to find.

“Harper,” Ricardo mumbles, staring at me like he wants to punish me for simply thinking about it.

“What?” I say.

He only raises a brow.

“What?!” I reiterate. “I’m just worried about Marcello.”

“I know. We all are,” he says. “You should eat. Can’t save him on an empty stomach.”

“But he doesn’t have any food either. Or a place to sleep,” I say. “In fact, Molly is probably out there punishing him for what happened to Frank.”

Mario, who was in a conversation with Andrea, averts his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mario. But you know I may be right about this,” I say.

“I realize that.” He looks directly at me. “But my son chose that to save you and your unborn child.”

“And that means we should just leave him there?” My nostrils flare. “No.”

Mario puts down his fork and knife too now, staring at me intently. “Believe me, I have zero intentions of leaving Marcello in that woman’s clutches.” He clears his throat and gets up while looking at Andrea. “Thank you for this lovely meal, madam.”

He grabs her hand and gives it a kiss, which brings a bright red blush to Andrea’s face. Even though I’m preoccupied right now, it still makes my heart warm.

Then he focuses his attention on me. “Harper, let’s go to another room, shall we?”

I nod, and Ricardo gets up too. “Thank you, ma’am. It was lovely.”

“You’re welcome,” Andrea responds with a hearty smile on her face.

We walk out of the room together, where Mario closes the door behind us after another brief smile at Andrea.

“Spill,” Ricardo tells me.

I fish my phone from my pocket and show the text I received before dinner. “I got this from Melanie. One of the girls who was brought to the auction with me. I met her again when I was living on the streets after running from Marcello, and she gave me her number, so I texted her. She hates it there and has been keeping an eye on the Polish ever since they took her. Apparently, the Russians now work with the Irish since their whole leadership caved. Not to mention the Polish. It’s all connected.”

I show them the text. “She thinks she knows where Marcello is. The Polish are the ones keeping him in a separate building, away from the Irish.”

“To throw us off, no doubt,” Mario responds. “What’s the address?”

I take my phone back and open the Maps app, pinpointing the location. “I’ve been looking at it for some time now, trying to find a point of entry because it seems sealed shut. Like it hasn’t been used in ages.”

“That’s their usual MO. Abandoned buildings are perfect hideouts,” Ricardo says.

“And you’re sure this Melanie friend is telling the truth?” Mario asks, raising a brow. “I do not want to insult anyone here, but if she belongs to the Polish, then it could be a trap.”

“She doesn’t belong to them,” I reply. “She was bought by the don. And if there’s anything I know, it’s that women don’t like to be bought and owned. Of course she hates him.”

“And a woman who hates will do anything to make sure the people they hate get what they deserve,” Ricardo says.

I wink. “Exactly.” I point at the map. “It’s not too far from the Irish hideout. I just don’t know how to get inside.”

“There will be tons of guards,” Ricardo says. “And we don’t have many men to spare.” He clears his throat. “I’ll need to check on the men we still have. See if who survived the ambush at the mansion. Check if it’s safe again.”

“Right,” I respond as he walks off with his cell phone in his hands.

“Don’t worry, most of them scatter when things get too hot,” Mario says.

“I know,” I reply. “I’m just worried that even if we can gather some men to raid the Polish hideout, it still won’t be enough.”

Mario takes in a deep breath. “Well, it is what it is. We will do our utmost best to save Marcello, of course.”

“But what if we all end up dying?”

“We?” He makes a face. “Oh, no, honey. You stay here.”

My eyes narrow. “The fuck I am.”

“Marcello wouldn’t want you to—”

“He would want me to do what I need to do,” I interject. “What I think is best.”

Mario straightens his back, but after a few seconds, a tepid smile appears on his old face. “You’ve grown.”

I smile. “That’s what time on the streets does to a girl.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you’ve just learned to take control and lead because it fits you.” He winks, and it makes me blush.

Maybe he is right. Maybe it isn’t just the fact that I needed to survive which made me stand up for myself. But also because I care for Marcello, and this family belongs to him. How could I not want to fight for that?

“What do you have in mind?”

I rub my lips together while staring at the maps and the texts Melanie sent me, trying to figure out how to go about this with as few men as possible. And then it hits me. Men like them love attention. Love to feel in power.

“What if I pretend to be a willing victim?”

Mario frowns. “I’m not sure I understand …”

“I dress up, pretend I’m offering myself up to the Polish don because Marcello is unworthy and doesn’t deserve me. He’ll fall for it simply because Marcello owned me, and mobsters always want what another man has.”

“I fail to see how this is going to make things better. Doesn’t that mean we’ll have to rescue you as well?”

“No, what I mean is … I’ll hide some weapons,” I say. “And then when I finally find my way to Marcello, I’ll free him, and we break out together.”

“That sounds like either the stupidest or the bravest plan I’ve ever heard of.”

“But do we have another choice?” I say, putting my hands against my side. “Because as far as I know, we were severely outnumbered, even on Marcello’s own damn grounds. I can’t imagine the number of people they have cooped up in their territory. Risking more of Marcello’s men’s lives is the only way we can get him out of there.”

Mario sighs and nods a little. “Well, you are right about that, but Marcello would not want you to risk—”

“Marcello isn’t here. I am. And I’m saying that I’m willing to risk it. For him.”

The gravity of my words finally begins to sink in.

“It’s insane,” Mario replies, and he adds a sigh as he leans in. “But let’s try.”

“Do we really have to do this?” Andrea asks.

She refused to stay at the church even though I begged her to. And I know her. When she refuses to do something, that’s it. Nothing I can say or do will deter her from seeing me off. So she’s right here in the same van as I am while I’m hiding underneath a long trench coat wearing the most god-awful whorish outfit I could gather. It’s a red leather dress, barely long enough to cover my thighs. All so I can snag the attention of the Polish don and convince him to let me see Marcello.

“Do we really have to do this?” Ricardo says, staring at me from across the van.

I look up at him and give him a stern look. “Yes.”

Even though he’s Marcello’s guard, Marcello isn’t here to lead right now. I am. And since I carry his child, his guards should listen to me.

“It’ll never work,” he says, and he turns his head to look outside.

I know he’s apprehensive. I am too. Even Mario doesn’t like the idea. But what else are we supposed to do? Just sit around and wait until we’ve grown enough numbers? Until Marcello rolls over in his grave?

Fuck no.

“I can do this. Trust me,” I say, and I take the weapons and shove them down my boots and one deep in my panties just in case.

“They’ll search you,” Ricardo says.

“Not that place, I’m sure,” I retort.

“You don’t know those men,” he replies, clenching his teeth.

“I do, and I’m not scared. I have something they want,” I reply, and I rub my belly.

“All the more reason to stay at the church.”

“Guys,” Mario interrupts, raising his hand. “Stop fighting. We’ve got enough trouble as is.”

“Right,” I say, eyeing Ricardo, who looks away.

Mario leans forward and tugs at my shirt, saying, “If I may.” He nudges it upward and sticks something to my skin, then pats down my shirt. “Listening device. If anything goes wrong, we’re pulling you out.”

“But—”

He throws me a damning look. “End of story.”

I nod as my heartbeat begins to rise. Andrea gets up and gives me one last kiss, which feels strangely final. “Good luck out there, and come back to me.”

“I will,” I reply, and I step out of the van and close the door behind me before Ricardo can stop me.

I know what I’m doing is reckless.

But so is my love for Marcello.

And I’ll be damned if I let him die out there just because he wanted to protect me.

So with my head held high, I march straight toward the two guards standing in front of the building.