I Am Vector

"I beg of you. Please. Please. I stole the money for..."

A deafening slap filled the room, and the man rolled to the floor, rolling a little clumsily in a pool of his own vomited blood. Without waiting, he pulled himself to a kneeling position again, then clasped his hands together in a desperate attempt to beg for forgiveness.

Slowly, the taller man in a pristine white suit slowly squatted, one leg pushed forward, so his hand rested on it, the other hand resting on his other knee.

Slowly, he moved his hand to raise the bleeding man's chin to face him. His eyes came into view under the dim light.

One was a very light blue, the other pitch black. His lips were stretched in a wicked smile, and his blue eye thinned.

"Vector, I beg of you. I beg of you, please. I beg of you. Please. Have mercy. I have a daughter and..."

"Is she worth twenty million dollars?"

"Vector..."

"If I cut your daughter up and sell her organs...will she fetch me twenty million dollars in cash?"

"I will pay you back. I swear, I will.."

He trailed off as Vector stood, then collected the pistol from one of his henchmen.

"I will make sure to tell her you didn't think she was worth twenty million dollars."

"Vector, please. Please, please, Vector!"

I woke with a start, my eyes wide, my chest heaving. Beads of perspiration filled my forehead, and my palms felt wet. It was the same dream. The dream that had slowly become engraved in my mind. I never got to stay to watch the rest, as I had immediately been dragged away, the howls penetrating everything in me.

That man had been my father, and to date, I do not know if Vector had pulled that trigger or if he had left him with the pieces he had made of one leg. The bastard had been stained with my father's blood from head to toe.

I closed my eyes tight, my hand coming up to my chest. My heart was beating fast, and I pushed the sheets away from me, then stepped down from the bed. I walked to the bathroom, then leaned over the faucet.

The water had stopped, and I cussed under my breath, anger filling me up even more. I had been haunted by those dreams for one year, each time the screams getting louder and closer, threatening to take me whole. I swallowed hard, then slowly raised my eyes to the mirror in front of me.

It was broken and reflected a shattered version of me, but that is truly the girl inside. I am not the Red I used to me when my father had been around.

Red. I remembered when he had told me how he came about the name. I was the fifth child, and all four before me had died at birth. He had told me that I was born with fiery red hair just like my mother's had been, and he had cherished me the same way he had desperately hoped she had lived long enough for him to do to her.

But she had died giving birth to me. She had been aware of the consequences, he had told me. She had been far too advanced in terms of age, and after so many failed births, doctors did not think it was the right thing to do.

But she had wanted my father's name to continue. Little did she know that she was absolutely right. Because now... now it is my turn.

I closed my eyes tight, silently cursing the day I met the man, Vector.

I knew Father was a Don. Hell, everyone knew. And even for a Don who was less involved with the Mafia and more...involved with his businesses, he was above the law. It made me aware of just how much power these people held and how much they did not hesitate to use it.

I remember that night clearly. It was still one of my darkest memories, maybe because of the treacherous feelings that bubbled somewhere in me, or the fact that none of the bastards in that party had bothered helping my father.

"Don Lucian."

I closed my eyes to the memory of the first person we had seen at the party. He was middle aged, and spurted lots of tattoos, like he was brandishing a war weapon.

"Is this your daughter?" He asked, his eyes darting between mine and my father.

"Yes, she is. She is Red. Red, this is Don Al."

I gave a small smile and stretched my hand, to which he accepted. "Nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," he answered curtly before turning back to my dad. "Vector had been waiting. The toast was due a few minutes ago, and you know how he does not like to wait."

"I am sorry," Dad said. "Women and their makeup."

They burst into laughter, and Father pulled me in, his steps light.

"Who is this...Vector?" I had barely managed to get the words out when the lights suddenly dimmed.

I gave a small yelp, then turned, my untrained feet stomping, my hair falling in front of my face.

"Father?" I called, then took one more step forward.

I crashed into a hard chest, and I immediately reeled back, my eyes wide with the surprise and an urge to see anything. Suddenly, I felt a hand snake up my waist and pull me to a stable position.

I swallowed, and looked around, trying to make sense of the darkness. Slowly, the lights came on, but it was a beautiful golden light, one that seemed to be inspired from the sun set.

I turned to the stranger who was still partially leaning over me. I could smell his cologne and the expensive scent that came with having unholy amounts of cash.

"Who...who are you?"

I couldn't completely make out his face. I felt his hand leave my waist, just as the lights came back on. I took an unconscious step forward, my eyes squinting to adjust to the light.

"Are you not the most delicate little thing?"

I looked up. His voice had been an unholy deep tone, and he had a dark undertone, like everything he said had an underlying meaning coated in violence and blood.

He towered above me, and was decked in the cleanest white suit I had ever seen. It was double breasted, with gold buttons. My lips followed as I let my eyes glide to his face. He was...hell, dark.

I should have known then.

There was nothing pretty about him. He was all hard male, his body a stoic build that was protected by the clothes. I felt my breath hitch, my eyes widening even more.

He spurted a very clean beard that was kept low, and somehow showed the straight, sharp jawline. His lips curled in a smile I knew there and then was wicked and vile, even though I believe he was supposed to be amused by my clumsiness.

Mid set cheek bones, and Roman straight nose put him together. I slowly met his eyes. He was looking down on me, like I was some prey, and hell back then, the way he had looked at me...it had been so attractive.

His eyes were heterochromic, with the right one being an icy blue, while the left was a pitch, impenetrable black.

"Vector!"

I turned swiftly, and Father covered the distance. I turned back to him as he offered Father a curt nod.

My eyes met his again, and he had turned back to me too, his eyes thinned so he at least looked curious.

"Your daughter?" He asked Father, then took a step forward to me. His deep Spanish accent made its way up now, and it made him even more...fictional. Impossible.

I probably will never be able to understand how powerful his gaze left me.

"I...I am Red," I said, taking the initiative. I stepped forward, then gave him my gloved hand. The gloves reached my elbows, and were made of a lilac cotton that complimented the red dress.

He looked at my hand, then gave a small smile. Gently, he put his hand below mine, his thumb wrapping around and moving lightly over the fabric.

Without a word, he used his free hand to pull out a foldable knife.

"Vector," I heard Father say, but I had been too naive, lost.

He slowly let the knife come to the edge of my glove, and with one swift motion, he cut it in two, causing the glove to fall away and expose the skin of my hand.

He then leaned, his hand holding mine all through, and placed a small kiss in my hand. Sometimes, I still feel the tingles of that kiss. But now it wasn't a fun memory of sizzling attraction on the very first time.

"I am Vector."