Home / Mafia / His To Claim: The Mafia's Possession / Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

All Chapters of His To Claim: The Mafia's Possession : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

137 Chapters

91. Dawn.

>>>>Who is Dawn?>>>>> The drive to my dorm happens in companionable silence but my mind is a battleground of thoughts. The images of the dead man I saw in Dima’s basement keep flickering in my mind at any chance. My hands fist on my thighs and my jaw set. As if noticing the tension ripping my insides in shreds, Akim asks, his English heavily accented and barely understandable. “What do you? Shits happen?” For the first time since I knew him as one of Dima’s byki, Akim’s talking to me. Except for responding to my greeting and reciprocating the salutation he never regards me. But now he does which means the tension, fear and doubt are visible on my face and body. “I’m fine. All good.” I tell him and unfurl my balled fist. My phone rings and when I slip it from my bag, I see Lilly’s name staring at me. I answer the call. “Did you run with your, Mr. President again? Huh?” She asks. I know she’ll kick her brows up while throwing the question at me. I exhale and shrug even though
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92. Dawn.

>>>>Childhood trauma. >>> “Dawn?” Miles calls, turning to look at me but I spare him no glance. I fixate my stare on the woman who glares back at me. I watch the woman who suddenly changed towards me since she lost her husband. The man whose identity I’m suspecting. The man who all my life, I’ve called father but got no affection from. No love in return. The man who has a brand mark on the side of his neck. My mother straightens from one foot to another, watching, glaring, fisting. I know it’s bad that this is how I greet her after being away for about six months. For six months she didn’t so much as call or check up on me. For six months she didn’t so much as call or respond to my calls. She avoided me like a plague. Just like her husband, my father did. She estranged from me and turned from being loving, and supportive to being cold-hearted. I don’t know the weight of my sins that warranted such a cold attitude towards me but right now I want answers. The only time I break star
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93. Dima.

>>>>He was paid.>>>> Loud music filters through my ears and I relax against the railing of the VIP section of Benson’s club, dragging sips from my mojito cocktail. My eyes overlook the dancing floor where bodies move in tandem with each other. Males hold females by their waist, grazing their bulging cocks to the ladies' asses. Cocktail glasses hover above some people’s heads as they drink and rock their bodies. Billows of smoke fill the air as people take drags from their pot and cig. Benson’s club is brisk with immoral activities and I love watching it. I savor the lack of morals. I love watching what others would deem evil. Suddenly, the DJ changes the music and the people yell in happiness and their bodies start grinding with reckless abandon against each other. Men skid their hands through the ladles' barely clad chest, feeling their round tits in the palm of their hands. Some saw their lips against each other. The air explodes with sexual tension. The strippers rise to the s
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94. Dawn.

>>>He knows where I live.>>>> I slam the cab's door a little too loud as frustration consumes me. “Easy, miss.” The Cabbie growls. “You'll pay if the door spoils…” He adds and I mutter. “Sorry. I lost my shits.” I purse my lips when he glares up at me. I left Dr. Sarah’s house drowning in thoughts about her words that I substituted memories. The traumatic event from my dark past made me substitute memories. It might have worked back then. It might have helped me to overcome the ugly past but now, more than anything I want to know those dark things which I all but forgot. Those things I substituted new memories in order to forget. “Better be careful.” The cabbie growls again and swiftly snatches the money I’m handing him. I whirl around and I face the house I remember growing up in. Now, however, the house feels no less strange to me. Like it’s not where I belong. Memories of the man who hates me fill my mind whenever I try to walk into the house. I remember the lack of aff
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95. Dawn.

*Knight in a shining armor.*Heart sprinting with intense ferocity, breath coming out in violent pants, and my feet pounding on the hardwood floor, I run for my life. “Mom!!” Miles bellows as the rattling of the gunshots rages over the walls of our house. Feet pound with a heart-wrenching thud against the floor as the men draw closer. My eyes are filled with tears and my eardrums with white noise as the knowledge that today will be my last dawn on me. I’ll die without getting to know the real me. My real name…real family…real identity. I race as fast as my feet can carry me. I rush and duck under the stairs as the muzzle of their guns spits bullets like a tornado of rage. I can hear my ferocious breathing even amidst the gunshots. Suddenly, like a slow motion, I clasp my hand over my ears willing the sounds to die out as images fill my mind. ***Flashback***“Papa!” The little girl well adorned with a fairytale dress calls out. I can’t see the faces clearly. It’s all a blur. But
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96. Dima.

***Protect what's mine.*** One minute. The words spins in my head as realization dawn on me. If I had been one fucking minute late I’d have lost her. If I hadn’t rush out of the club and stopped the fucking meeting I was having with Benson at his club I’d lost my rypka. I’m filled with red-hot rage. It’s thick and scalding as it streams through my blood. Rypka would have been dead, forgotten. Images of how the men race after her as she aims for the back door of their house flood in my vision. Her pale, anxiety-filled face appear in my vision. Fuckers!!! I roar, howl inwardly as the realization that I’d have lost the girl I’m madly obsessed with flicker through me. They’d have shot her dead!! I tighten my fist against the wheel and gnash my teeth together as more rage, anger bloom within me. Red-hot anger. Who is the fucker behind all this fucking attack!!? Show yourself and stop hiding like a cunt. Face me!! Let’s finish this up. Show yourself!! I rasp in my mind, wanting t
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97. Dawn.

***I am his to claim.***“My new place?” Surprised, I taste Dima’s words on my lips and honestly, I find it confusing. Is he doing this to uplift my mood and make me forget about the dead bodies that is Miles and my mother? I let my eyes fall shut as images of their dead, frozen bodies spiral through me. I was trying to calm myself earlier but it only worked when Dima held me with his pudgy hand. I felt his lips moving against mine in my shallow slumber and it helped me to relax further. The fear that brim me rid off and a sense of safety took over. Now, I feel incredibly safe with Dima by my side. I feel like he's the only one that can truly protect me from harms way. And he's proven it tonight. Tonight he fought my attackers in rage, wanting nothing but to shield me, to protect me. Dima’s my breastplate. My protector. My dangling legs jerk in his arms as he shepherds me into the exotic apartment complex’s foyer. There’s no one around as we head into the elevator and D
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98. Dawn.

****Say it again.****Maybe I was wrong. Maybe that thought that crossed my mind a few minutes back was wrong. With the way Dima kisses me, I fault my thoughts. With the way he holds me, imprisoning me in his hold, I fault my instincts. Dima will never leave me. He has already claimed me as his. He said forever he'll possess me. Forever, I’ll be his. The woman for the Pakhan. The woman for the bratva king. A crime boss. A man who all but reeks of danger, death, and darkness. Yet, despite the feelings clawing at me…the red flags that would scare normal people away from him, I don’t run rather my burning desire for him magnifies. Well, I guess that makes me to be above normal again. I don’t look or embody that which is normal because all my mind and heart and soul can think about is Dima. My whole being wants him. The man that dragged me away from the clutches of death. The man that soiled his flawless skin with the blood of my assailants. The man that all but got a house for me an
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99. Dima.

***Two dark souls.***I jerk awake and quickly notice the weight pressing against me. It’s not too heavy, no…it’s light, slender, and most of all, soft. I circle my brawn arm around it, pressing the weight deeper against me. Rypka, I murmur. I love how her body fits against mine. How she depends on me for safety, even in the depth of her slumber. And always, I want to provide her with nothing but safety. I want to be her fortification, the only place where peace, safety, and joy will belie her. A smile ghosts across my lips as I hold her but sadly, it soon evaporates as my mind begins to filter through her words a while ago. She’s afraid that I’ll eventually grow tired of her and leave. Something that’s furthest from my mind. I can’t…I can’t ever leave the only woman that shows me the right amount of love my mother showed me when she was alive. I can’t shove away the only place from whence I receive peace. Dawn is my solace and I always want to be hers. When those words dropped
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100. Dima.

***Now you own her.***The worry in Stalin’s words is not totally lost on me. My brother-in-arms is worried sick about me. It’s mutual, actually. I worry when shits happen in his life and he worries when shits happen in mine. Scratching my scrunch-up brows, I relax into the loveseat, my eyes bashing outside the window. The street below is filled with the white noise of honking cars and stamping feet. I shrug my shoulders even though, Stalin can’t see it. “Shits happened,” I answer his question with a calm note in my voice. I hear him curse and curse. “Dima, it’s getting fucking tough out there.” He croaks and I nod, though he can’t see it. No doubt it’s getting messier like hell.“Yeah…” “The shadow guards at quite trying. Never thought the boys could be such up and doing though they were among our new recruits.” Stalin says and I mutter in agreement. Dawn’s shadow guards are barely eighteen but hell they put in the effort you'd think they've been in the shits for long. Stal
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