4. THEY WILL PAY

“I will hunt them all. I will hunt their children and grandchildren. I will burn their filthy bloodlines from this world.” Each word was a promise of violence, his voice low and dangerous even I shuddered in his embrace. He growled it in a way even I could see it in my head. The anger was seeping from him, his chest rising up and down in shallow furious pants, sending me up and down with it since my head lay there.

He chuckled, a dark chuckle that should have scared me but all I did was cling to him. Could it even be called a chuckle with how frightening it was? My eyes were closed, never getting enough of that scent. I was gulping it like cold water on a hot day. It was way better from its source. My mind was in confusion, wondering how? How had he gotten his scent on my bed all through the years? Six years? It was impossible.

Who was he? What was happening? Too many questions yet I was too shaken to ask them. As of then, he was my armor, my protector. I could wear him and nothing would get to me. It was in his grip, that protective firm grip with no way for him to let go. I felt safe in his arms in a way I had never felt safe before. In a world full of bulldogs, he was a shark. I felt at home in his arms. Since my father died, I had been lost and lonely but he, he made all that disappear. He took my trauma and made me feel strong, that I could get through it.

His free hand rose up, clenching to unfold and fall on me. His fingers ran up and down my arm leaving moments of déjà vu playing in my head. He had done this before. He had caressed me so gently before; his touch was not foreign to my body at all. It left tingles running up and down as warmth exploded beneath my skin. Not only did it seem to relax me but it seemed to cool his anger a little, his sharp breaths slowing down.

The man was scaring me, but not in the way you would think. My body’s reaction to him terrified me. I shrunk harder into him and buried my head deep in the crook of his arm. My heart drummed harder, feeling like I was losing my mind. The adrenaline from before was slipping away, leaving me stark with clarity about my new reality. Had I just thrown myself into the hands of another demon? His arms both wrapped and tugged me a little to him. His lips lay on my hair, trembling so hard I thought they would fall off. It was a feeling like no other, being completely buried deep in his warm embrace.

His head shook, it seeming as if he was losing his own mind and that left me worried. My arms wrapped tighter around his form, wanting to comfort him, to tell him that I was fine, that they did not do anything to me but I could not. I did not know how I was holding it all together, how I was functioning but I knew as soon as I was alone I would shutter apart.

The car came to a stop and I did not want to go out. It was either I was going into another cell or I was parting from my savior. I wanted none of that. I just wanted to stay there with him. I wanted to stay there and not even think of why I suddenly wanted to comfort him, why I was so worried about him.

The door opened, and just then, his phone rang.

My head peaked out, seeing a familiar neighborhood, having my heart heavily leap in my chest. I had still clung to the thought of mistaken identity but at that point, he was standing at my doorstep. He brought the phone to his ear, pressing it with his shoulder. He still held me with a firm grip while also fishing for something from his pocket.

His strength would never be questioned. He was a man whom I saw winning every fight he fought. He held me with such ease, making sure I was comfortable.

“Not now brother.” The man simply spat into the phone. “Just find the rest of them and send me the list.” He barked out, hearing a key turning, opening my door, and walking in. A chill went down my spine. His phone was pulled off his shoulder, cutting the call and shoving his phone back into his pocket. The door was closed hard, him striding up the stairs as if he had done this too many times.

More tears crowded my eyes, them just dripping and wetting his shirt. He had been here before. He had a key. He knew where my bedroom was, strolling through to my bathroom with no hesitancy at all and soon he was standing under the shower with me.

He lowered me down despite how hard I held on, fighting in the only way I could.

“Fidati di me, amore mio. Lascia che pulisca te e le loro impronte da te.” Trust me, my love. Let me clean you and their prints off you. His voice was harsh, his Italian accent thick with conviction. I knew I really had no choice in the matter. He had this authority, drilling me with the need to obey his every command.

Letting go seemed to be the hardest thing I could do, my trembling feet touching the cold floor tiles. He made sure I was steady enough to hold with one hand before the other rushed to unbuckle his belt. My head kept screaming for me to run, kept screaming for me to jump away and fight him but I was left just staring in horror as the pants hit the floor. He bent to throw them out the shower then his shirt, shoes, and socks, leaving him just standing before me in his tight briefs yet he was still more dressed than I was.

He took a step forward, my body pressing into him as his arm held tight around my waist. My hands pressed on his hard abs, my face on his chest. Instead of pushing him away, I found my hands brushing on his skin to move to his sides. His skin was soft despite the tattoos he wore. His body was so warm it felt feverish. Nothing but muscles was all I felt, yet still meaty enough to have my grip on him.

The water gushed out of the showerhead, startling me to jump whilst he cursed again.

I could have him speak over and over again. His voice trampled away the dark voices that kept coming into my head. I wanted to fall apart but I could not. I don’t know why, but in front of him, I just wanted to look put together, as if it was not all a big deal when I was scared out of my wits.

I don’t know when he pulled my shampoo but soon, my hair was lathered with bubbles as the scent of my lemon and mint shampoo exploded in the bathroom. It took away his scent, but I chased it into the small of his shoulder.

I would deal with the shame later. If he wanted to kill me, he would have done so already. He could have just been doing some psychology trick, fattening me for slaughter yet I had never felt safe with someone. Too many times I had curled into him, I just knew it. Six full years! Still leaving me shocked to no end.

The water rinsed away my shampoo, it falling down my eyes without warning, having me lowly cry out as my eyes burned.

“Chiudi gli occhi piccola.” Close your eyes little one.

I blew out all the bubbles from my mouth, literally spitting on him. The water was coming down hard, my eyes clenched mercilessly. I floundered for something to lean on, disoriented by my lack of sight. A hand suddenly held mine, pulling it down. I did not fight, a cloth replacing my hand, wiping away all the shampoo water, and bubbles. He wiped over my eyelids. His thumb fell under my right eye, letting me know it was okay to open them and as I peeled my eyes open, his soft warm lips fell on my forehead.

My toes curled on their own as I held onto his sides with need. Gently, he washed my body. I stepped back as he moved lower and lower. There was no shame in standing naked before him. Everything just faded away as I stood watching him explore each curve of my body with a soapy loofah. He took his time, eyes void of lust. All that was written on his face was concern and anger.

I took the time to take him in. His black sleek hair fell over his forehead, wet and sticking to his olive skin. His small nose went well with his high cheekbones then that dark haunted look he wore like a second skin. He looked like danger on legs, someone you had to run from and never look back. His dark green eyes, with specks of gold if you looked close enough, were haunting yet mesmerizing at the same time. My legs spread for him without even a second thought as he washed my thighs then legs and feet.

The water washed down all his efforts, leaving my skin bare. I did not even want to look at it. I knew I wore the map of my story. His eyes darkened as he finished cleaning me, still crouched and just staring at me up and down. The darker his face turned, the more I shivered. He seemed hungry, hungry for blood and somehow, I knew he would get it. He would leave the streets bleeding, walls painted with nothing but blood, all for me.

His body shot up without warning, startling me back before I found myself buried in his chest as he buried his head in my hair. He shook so hard we shook together, connected in more ways than I could ever describe. His arms could crush me without him even trying, feeling as if no one could dig me out of them when he had them caged around me.

“They will pay.”

I knew they would, clinging harder to him, and in a way, encouraging him. I did not care, his anger fueling mine and just paving way for this darkness in me to see the world burn for all who played part in my abduction. With him, I knew he would hunt them all down. My eyes closed and I let myself drift away into him.