Chapter 6: What is mine
881 Words
Damien Salvatore.
Just the name alone drained the color from my face.
He was capable of anything.
“Yes,” I blurted before I could stop myself.
“Who is he, then?” Draven’s voice was calm, but it carried weight. One that pressed against my chest.
That was when I snapped out of it.
Draven was nothing but an ant in Damien’s world. He could be stepped on and crushed without a sound.
If I told him, he would chase after vengeance, and I’d lose him too.
I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to stay steady.
“Uh… no, I don’t.” I avoided his eyes.
“I thought you said yes.” His brows furrowed. “Lola, feel free to…”
“I don’t know,” I cut in quickly, sharper this time. “If I did, I’d tell you.”
He paused for a moment, studying me, then sighed. “Fine. Then I’ll get going.”
He turned and walked out, leaving the air heavy behind him.
I shut the door and slid down against it, my body hitting the cold tiles. The silence pressing into me.
Mafia lives are always complicated.
I couldn’t go to the police. Not when the law bowed to men like Damien.
But what if he wasn’t the one behind this?
He’d said Dad didn’t owe him. He’d even warned me to eat or my family would be in danger. And I did.
He didn’t sound like someone with a grudge.
Or maybe Dad was searching for me. Damien found out and silenced him?
Either way, I needed the truth.
But sitting there, my head pounding and my body shaking, truth felt like something buried miles below me.
For now, all I had was Draven. My only thread of hope to the truth.
I didn’t know how long I sat there. When I blinked, the daylight was fading into dark shadows. That was when I realized I was still in the maid’s uniform.
I stood, changed into something soft and loose, and opened the window. Letting cold air rush in, sharp and biting.
My chest ached in a way I couldn’t name. My heart felt hollow, like someone had scooped it out and forgotten to fill it back.
The thought that Dad was gone just like that tightened something in my throat. I wanted to scream, to break something, to jump out that window and let it end.
But that would make me a coward.
Something inside me whispered to run, to leave before whoever took Dad came for me next.
But how do you walk away from the only place that still smells like the person you love?
Still, I had to move. I had no other choice.
By the time I stepped out, the rain had started, light at first, then harder. Each drop heavier than the last, washing the world in its cold silver streaks.
And as I walked, I realized maybe it was better that way.
At least now, no one could tell the difference between rainwater and tears.
The rain poured harder, soaking through my clothes, turning the road beneath me into mud and blur.
This wasn't the freedom I had hoped for when I escaped. I was cold, wet, lonely and drained.
I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering as thunder rumbled somewhere far away. My hair stuck to my skin. My shoes squelched with every step.
Just then, I saw headlights.
Two white beams, bright enough to make me squint.
A black Rolls Royce slowed to a stop in front of me.
I couldn't care less. Just as I took another step, the customized plate number grabbed my attention.
No. No, it couldn’t be…
The door opened, and through the downpour, a tall figure stepped out, dark coat whipping in the wind.
Even before I saw his face, I knew.
My breath hitched..
I turned away, desperately trying to run but my weak legs gave me out.
“Running away again?” My body froze.
That voice. Low, smooth and unbothered, crawled down my spine.
Damien Salvatore. It was him again.
Did I owe this man in my past life?
He walked closer, every step precise and deliberate. The rain rolled off his coat like it feared touching him.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?” His tone was calm, almost gentle but his eyes told a different story. Cold, controlled, yet dangerous.
My lips trembled. “What do you want from me?”
He tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he’d already solved.
“Want?” His smile was faint and humorless. “That’s a dangerous question, Lola.”
He reached out, brushing a strand of wet hair from my face.
“You should’ve known by now,” he murmured. “I don’t let go of what’s mine.”
Before I could step back, his hand gripped my wrist, not painfully, just enough to remind me how powerless I really was.
The rain fell harder, drowning the world around us, but somehow it felt like only the two of us existed in that moment. Him and me, the storm trapping us in the middle.
And just like that, I could feel freedom slipping right through my fingers again.
- Writer
