- 4 -

M A R C O

Past

"Seriously, Viktor?"

"What on earth took you so long?" he groused, stepping inside the house.

I slammed the door with a force and turned around to face him. "What the hell are you doing here at this time?"

His gaze zeroed in on the pink woolen scarf of Jessica lying near the sofa and darted back to mine, questioningly. Then he muttered with a smirk, "Of course. Is she gone?"

"No," I said, walking towards the kitchen island.

I grabbed the bottle of scotch, two glasses and went back towards the sofa where he had already made himself at home. His presence ensured that I would be having a crappy night so I thought I might as well get drunk for that. His suit jacket was tossed over the arms of the sofa by now, while his legs rested on top of the table.

Viktor Romano was the present Boss, after his father, Alessandro Romano, stepped down, handing him over the reins of the criminal empire. Viktor, as the youngest Boss of the Mafia family, was invincible so far. It was difficult to say whether people bowed before him out of fear or out of respect–but either way, he didn't care. If I had to put my money, I'd say fear. He was ruthless, but he was also a headstrong strategist. In short—he was the eye of the storm.

While his brother, Dominic Romano was the second-in-command, I was his enforcer. A couple of years back, I would have been a happier man, engaging in the street fights, managing the clubs and spanking the women of my choice but this fucker had to drag me back to this godforsaken place.

Had it been anyone else, I would have flat-out refused. But I couldn't refuse him. He may not have been my blood, but he was more than that. He was both a brother and a friend. The man knew what loyalty was, honored it with his blood and for that I respected him.

But he was also a crazy fucker who thought it was okay to pay me a visit at 2 AM.

"You need to get laid," I said, nonchalantly and passed him the glass of scotch.

Viktor chugged down the whole glass in a swig in an instant. "Fuck. I needed this." Then he cocked his head to the side, looking at me. "Lock the door," he said, pointing to the room where Jess was fast asleep, I presumed.

"Door's locked. She's asleep and every room is soundproof," I assured him.

Viktor wasn't paranoid, but cautious. His business, the mafia business, wasn't exactly something that one could discuss so casually. We didn't know who wore what kind of masks until the facade drops and a bomb blows up in our own faces.

He scrubbed his face with his hands and slowly nodded. "I have an assignment for you."

I smirked knowingly. "Tell me the name and whoever he is, would be six feet under by tomorrow." That was how things had worked between us. He would give me a name and I'd finish the job for him. As simple as it got.

But this time something else happened. He ...smiled. Fuck. Now, I realized this was bad. Actually, way worse.

Viktor's default mode was anger or impulsiveness. The fucker never smiled unless he was really mind-fucking with the other person. And this time, I think, the other person was me.

The glass in my hand stopped midair and confusion stirred in my brain.

"You don't have to kill anyone," he said and gave a dramatic pause. And I actually fucking held my breath for what was coming next. "You have to train someone."

"What?" I spat out. Putting down the glass on the table with a loud thump, I turned to face him.

"It's a girl," he said and took out his phone. Punching in some security code, he opened a document page and passed it to me.

While my eyes raked over the picture of some young girl along with informative details, he continued blabbering. "Her name's Aurora Hall. Juvenile, convicted of the homicide of her father. Currently, an escaped convict."

"Where on earth did you find her?"

"She found me."

Next, he narrated how this girl was stealing powder from the warehouse, stabbed a couple of his men and lunged at Viktor with her knife. For that act, I would actually praise her. Because grown men tend to piss in their pants in front of Viktor Romano and if she'd dared to take a shot at him-it surely was a big, fucking deal.

But why drag my ass into this mess?

I slid the phone to his side with a snicker and decided to lift the bottle directly to my lips. And when the alcohol sufficiently burned some composure into me, I plopped it down.

"No fucking way. I don't do kids," I said, shaking my head.

"No one's asking you to bend her over and spank her ass, asshole," he snickered. "I am asking you to train her, to teach her how to fight and kill. I need a trained woman in my army."

"Spank or fight-I am not interested, Viktor. Look, man, you want me to kill someone or torture someone; I'd be more than happy to do that for you. But I can't babysit a child for fuck's sake. Tell Dominic to handle this."

"Dominic is not the right person to do that. Besides, this girl," he pointed at the phone screen, "can't be handled by my brother. She's feisty but in every wrong way possible. You're more experienced with a blade and a gun, you know how to discipline and hence, you can handle her better."

I wanted to bang my own damn head to the wall.

"What if she's some bloody rat?"

Viktor snorted, throwing me a hard look. "You really think I wouldn't do a thorough background check until I am one hundred percent sure?"

Of course, he would. His Intel has been impeccable so far and accurate. Besides, he had a knack for identifying rare talents. If he was so hell-bent on turning her into a little female Frankenstein, he would actually go on to any length to do that. Stubborn jerk.

I picked up the phone once again and looked at her picture intently.

"This is a bad, bad idea," my alcohol-induced brain screamed.

Aurora—this girl—had medium long, dark hair, hazel brown eyes, and almost olive skin. Everything about her was delightful, vibrant, and verdant. In fact, her appearance justified the meaning of her name—the dawn. How in the name of hell did she end up killing people was beyond me. Not that I was judging her, but the cruel act seemed slightly beyond her.

I sensed that wheedling out of this situation would be slightly impossible because Viktor wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. If he had the urgency to drive himself here for this at 2 AM in the morning, he was dead serious.

"So?" he pressed.

"One month," I said decisively. "I can do this for one month, and after that, you can take her back. Not a day more than a month. That's the deal."

With an arrogant smirk quirking at the corner of his lips, he picked up with a bottle of scotch, which was half empty by now, and poured us a generous amount.

"Ok, I get it," he said. "One month then. But if she has the potential which I think she does, you'd be the one to train her for me after the given time. Do we have a deal now?" he asked, handing me my glass.

Unsure, I took the glass from him curiously. "And what would you do with her after I send you back to her?"

Viktor clinked his glass with mine and poured the contents directly down his throat.

"I'd kill her then." He shrugged. "She won't be any use to me without the training. And keeping her alive would be a liability. She would know a lot by then."

And I knew he actually would. Love, compassion or sympathy wasn't running through his veins. He was a monster and wouldn't show mercy unless he was getting something in return.

In this case, he wanted her loyalty. Rather demanded.

He stood up, buttoning his suit jacket and turned to me. "I will bring her to you tomorrow. She will stay with you here, in this house. And yeah, you might want to hide your paddles, whips, butt plugs and nipple clamps."

"No way in hell I am touching her in that way. I might be a bastard, but I am not a pedophile."

He shook his head. "No, I am not worried about that. She is an abuse victim, it really ticks her off. I thought you should know."

So, he was okay with killing her off, but not mentally torment her? Some twisted fucker he was!

"Noted. No more spanking subs in this house," I agreed with a nod. "Anything else?"

"But don't go easy on her training. She'd be one hell of a challenge to control, so I am warning you ahead of time."

I grimaced. "You're really not making this easy for me, asshole."

Viktor chuckled a little. "I am actually not making it easy for her." He strode towards the door and twisted the knob and then stopped, looking over his shoulder. "Oh, and by the way, she has a phobia of spiders. I thought you might want to use it as leverage. "

"Bloody asshole," I muttered, but the slamming of the door drowned the sound of my curse.

I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Cracking skulls, putting a bullet into someone's head, interrogating dickheads were my thing, inter alia, spanking grown-women, and mind-boggling sex.

But training a young girl? Fuck. I didn't see that coming.

**************************

A U R O R A

I heard the doorknob as I looked up and saw a guard holding the door open for His Majesty, the Devil. He was dressed head-to-toe in black and wore the color like it was made only for him. Striding inside, he simply stopped beside my bed.

"I know this is your house, but do you mind knocking before entering someone else's room?" I asked, trying to hide the obvious urge to smack his face.

But, Viktor, being himself, for a short period of time that I had come to know him, chose to ignore me completely. "I am guessing you have already made your choice."

"Do I really have a choice?" I retorted. And he simply smirked without a sliver of humor in it.

He knew it, I knew it. Yet he framed everything in such a manner that I had no way out but to cave in and make it look like it was my choice all along. There was no point going back to the streets. I was a fugitive in the eyes of the law and a murderer. But if I were put in a situation like that again where I have to kill someone to save my mother or myself, I'd do it again.

I knew that making a deal with the devil would never turn out to be completely in my favor, but I had to lose some to gain some. The question was, what was I going to lose?

"I am sending in a dress for you. Change quickly and come out. You have ten minutes," that was all he said before marching out of the room.

I sighed and whispered to myself, "What was I getting into?"

A couple of minutes later, a maid came in to deliver the dress which was too pretty for me. Nevertheless, I quickly changed and walked out of the room. Viktor was already sitting inside the car when someone held out the door for me to hop in.

"Are you taking me to the guy who is supposed to train me?" I asked.

He didn't even bother to look up from the phone in his hand. "No. You will see."

Just when I thought I knew what he was about to do or expected something, he would change the game or the rules. Viktor was some kind of mastermind who just loved to play on the edge of danger. Anonymity was one attribute of his personality that scared the shit out of me even when I tried so hard to calm myself.

The car stopped in front of some large factory, and we stepped out. Following him, I walked inside and into a room that resembled so much like the place they had originally held me in. Several guards with firearms fortified the place already.

Looking around the gray room, my eyes zeroed in at the chair placed in the middle of the room. There sat a man naked in his underwear, strapped to the chair, motionless and half-conscious.

An eerie chill ran down my spine, and it surely wasn't the Chicago winter. Slowly coming to stand beside Viktor, I looked between him and the bleeding man suspiciously.

Viktor draped a hand around my shoulders and leaned in slightly closer to my ears. "Watch and learn," he whispered.

Pulling his arm back, he walked over to the man and yanked at his hair. "You know what they say, 'don't shoot the messenger'; but tell me, Diego, what should I do when the messenger fails to deliver the message correctly? I told you to warn your Boss what would happen if he decides to steal my things and yet he did it anyway. Perhaps you failed to deliver the message after all."

Letting go, he stood up straighter and pulled out brass knuckles out of his pockets. "So, the only option remains for me is: to kill the messenger and send a message. Don't you think?"

He pulled back his fists and slammed it hard against his face, causing the blood splatter out of his mouth.

I had learned a great deal about Viktor in the past twenty-four hour. He wasn't some kind of gang leader or something that I had presumed previously. He was beyond that-someone too influential, too dangerous and too powerful.

The loud wail and incoherent words of the captive drew me out of the daze quickly. And when my back hit the wall, it was that moment I registered that I was walking backward without realizing.

Viktor picked up a small scalpel and looked over his shoulders at me. "Aurora, come here." As I sauntered closer, he held up the scalpel-like an exhibit. "Marco will teach you a great deal. But today I will show you a small demonstration."

He knelt down on one knee and pressed a finger on his upper thigh. "This is called femoral artery. You slice it, and the person will die within minutes. Quick and effective." Then he chuckled and shook his head, glancing up at me. "Definitely not my style."

Next, he tapped a finger on top of the captive's feet. "This is the Dorsalis Pedis Artery. When you slice this, it takes quite some time to bleed out and die. Painful, and satisfying at least for me."

The scalpel in his hand flicked at his feet, slicing the vein-some weird biological term he had just used-as the blood poured out.

At that moment, I realized one thing: Viktor was both God and Satan. He spared my life, but for a reason of his own and I, like a willing fool, sold my soul to the devil.

I didn't know whether it was the sight of blood flowing down like a river or the realization that I have just signed away my fate-but my eyesight blurred, I felt light headed and heartbeats pounded loudly, echoing in my ears.

The last thing I remembered was falling to my knees until everything went black.

**************************