Sinful Submission

10 ~ The Crazy Mistress.

When desires and confessions blurs… it will lead to nothing but destruction.

ALESSIA

My jaw dropped as blood pooled beneath my father’s body—thick, dark, and still very much fresh. My stomach turned. My knees almost buckled.

One of his men lay with his eyes wide open, blood soaking his white shirt. Another had his head turned the wrong way. I lost count after five.

My father, Don Frederick De-Luca, but a newly appointed one, was just murdered in his home and almost all his men were killed as well. It felt as though they were used as sacrificial lambs.

I felt like a huge creep.

I stood nailed to the ground then my body failed to listen to my head as I almost choked at the sight of blood for the first time in my life.

When I was able to move again, my heart slammed against my ribs. My throat closed. My vision blurred at the edges. Inside, I repeatedly slapped myself against my cheeks.

As I knelt beside my father's corpse, black cars rolled in like a funeral parade. The air turned colder. When he stepped out, silence followed.

My grandfather, Supreme Boss Giovanni De-Luca, known as The Godfather.

He alighted from his car looking agile as usual but with red eyes. He found his way among the corpses laid on the interlocked floor along where I stood in a rush.

“Alessia De-Luca.” He called out and the words sounded like a blow, lightning strikes, and a thunderous roar to my ear. The last time he called me by my full name was when I was a kid.

I remained silent and clenched my fist.

“What the f**k happened here?” Giovanni barked.

I straightened my spine, my throat dry. “I don’t know yet.”

He stepped closer, his eyes black. “Then find out. Or next time, I will be counting you among the bodies.”

It was his perfect chance and excuse to use his power and authority. He stared at my father's dead body for a while before he questioned Bryce, “Trust you know what to do with it?”

Bryce nodded his head.

Giovanni De-Luca grinned for some moments before he left the compound.

I turned sharply to leave then the sound of thunder could be heard in the background as a storm brewed above. The sky grew darker as gray clouds covered the length of the sky and sprinkles of water fell as I made my way back to my car.

They splashed slightly on the car then on my clothes, and a little on my uncovered arm. The air the atmosphere eluded caused the hair on my body to stand, thus vividly reminding me of my past.

Back when my grandfather forcefully took me to Italy, claiming my father wasn't capable of looking after me.

He assigned a bodyguard to me. He was about my age. I was ten years old then. Since then, we went through thick and thin together.

And from there, my heart gradually opened for him but not until disaster struck.

When we went on a mission and split up, I found Liam dead in cold blood. But, I saw that ring on him.

It belonged to someone I know very well. And in that moment, my motive was to find HIM.

But it was cut short when I was captured by my grandfather. And the killer of Liam was the one who was ordered to torture me.

Giovanni failed to believe me but he trusted him more than me.

My mother came around and I thought everything was going to change. Never had I expected that destruction would loom ahead.

My mother came to hold me. I reached out. But, she raised a blade.

So I did what any cornered animal would do. I snatched it and slit her throat.

Her eyes were still wide when she hit the floor. If anyone had been in my shoes, he or she would have done the same.

And since then, I've been tagged as, ‘The Crazy Mistress.’

But who cares?

I don't give a f**k.

After I came back to New York when I escaped from Giovanni, I couldn't help but think about Liam. The pressure was getting too much for me to hold on to and with that MURDERER still on the loose, I realized that time waited for no one.

But little did I know that destiny had other plans.

Ryder.

That face. That smirk. That smile. That dominance aura.

It all reminded me of THE MURDERER. Of his cruel hands against my body. The lashes of whips. The splashes of blood on the wall.

And I just know that with Ryder around, I will get my hands on the murderer someday. Very soon.

I waited and he would come to me. Then, I would tear every last thread of sanity in him.

~~~~~

I slammed the door open. Ryder was asleep. Asleep in the room Bryce had locked him like the world hadn’t shattered around me.

“WAKE UP!” I screamed, slapping his chest. “You sleep while I bleed?”

“It's just past three in the midnight and you are sleeping?” I snapped out of rage.

“What's happening? I was just…”

I landed a quick slap on his cheek before he could finish his statement. I huffed and puffed in anger before a thought crossed my mind.

“Be it the last thing I do in my life, I will get back at my father's killers. They are doomed.”

Shifting my attention to Ryder, I said, “From today, you will bleed for every scar I carry. You’ll suffer for every loss I’ve buried. And you’ll be the drug I take when the pain claws back up my throat.”

“Bryce!” I screamed.

A few seconds later, he found his way in since I left the door open.

“Throw him out of my house.” I ordered.

~~~~~

Bryce returned to the room a few minutes later, his chest heaving, his shirt clinging to him with sweat, and the faint trace of a bruise forming on his jaw.

That's evidence of Ryder’s resistance.

His brows were furrowed with concern. “Miss… why did you instruct me to throw him out like that? He didn’t do anything wrong.”

My arms were folded across my chest, my fingers digging into my skin as I backed against the chair for support.

“He didn’t do anything,” I muttered, my voice cracking with contempt. “But I can’t help it… His face. Just looking at him makes my skin crawl. I hate that face.” I spat the last words out like poison, like I was trying to purge the guilt riding my throat.

Bryce stepped in further, his tone softening as he removed his gloves. “Love… Love can heal everything. You have to play your part right, Miss. Let him come to you, let him succumb by his own will. Reduce the hate level… just enough for him to feel the pull. Only then will you succeed.”

I scoffed and dropped onto the edge of the couch, burying my face in my hands for a second. “I’m trying, Bryce. I swear I’m trying. But it’s not f*****g working, okay?”

Silence stretched for a moment. Then I looked up at him, his eyes red-rimmed and exhausted.

“By the way…” I straightened, brushing strands of hair from my face, “what do you think of what happened tonight?”

He tilted his head thoughtfully. “I’m thinking of what you’re thinking.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And what do you think I’m thinking?”

“That your grandfather did it. How did he appear so fast? When did he come to New York? And… from the look of things,” Bryce’s jaw tightened, “it doesn’t seem like he plans on leaving anytime soon.”

“You’re right.” I nodded slowly, my eyes drifting to the shadows that clung to the corners of the room. “We can’t prove he had a hand in my father’s death. Not yet. But we have to focus more on the killer. That’s where the truth starts.”

“I’ll investigate,” he said with a firm nod, already adjusting his coat. But just as he reached the door, he paused.

Turning halfway, his eyes lingered on me with a quiet insistence. “Miss… love heals everything.”

Then he left, the door clicking softly behind him, leaving me alone with my heavy breathing and silence.