Under the Mafia King's Rule

Please kill me..

I awoke to a world that didn't feel like mine.

I felt a new kind of different, and it was nothing compared to the last time this had happened.

I had no desire to live on, no reason to fight for my life. I felt numb—except for the anxiety stuck in the center of my throat that I couldn't shake off. Something told me so much worse could happen to me than my imminent death.

Since I regained consciousness an hour ago, I'd tried my hardest not to remember Jace's lifeless eyes. I wanted to pretend the last twenty-four hours had only been a dream and never happened.

And that the blindfold against my eyes and my left feet being chained to the bed I was laid upon were also only a figment of my imagination.

A door slammed open, causing me to flinch and stiffen. I tightened my closed eyes at the sound of footsteps walking into the room.

One was fast and loud; the other was slow, deliberate, and carried weight—telling me that even the sound of his footsteps mattered. My blood rushed loudly in my ears.

Silence.

That’s what filled the room next, then the sound of a chair scraping until it stopped at the end of the bed.

Silence again.

This time, longer than before. I was more than certain they could hear my heart pounding, see my lips parted because I couldn’t breathe through my nose anymore.

“Who ordered you to do it?” It was him—the man with the menacing gaze.

My breath hitched at his question. I was unable to respond.

I let out a loud yelp as a man beside me took a large chunk of my hair and lifted me up, fear grating my insides.

“Three of my men were knocked down.” That quiet and slow voice spoke again as I half-lay on the bed.

In seconds, the cloth was ripped off from my eyes and I let out a loud wince.

I came face to face with the large man with gray eyes just like his daughter’s. His eyes and expression held nothing in them.

I could hardly speak through my trembling. “J-just kill me. Please,” I whispered, my lips and body trembling.

He turns his head slowly to the side, eyes narrowing by a fraction. “I want to,” he breathed, and I let out a small sigh of relief.

“But I can’t,” he added.

“Why?” I let out a sob.

“I need answers.” He said. “My little girl wants to see you,” he added darkly.

My heart skipped at the thought of Lauryn.

“I-Is she o-okay?” I asked through my shaky voice.

He watched me for a moment, his jaw ticking once, and his gaze sharpens, he doesn't respond, his eyes turning darker than before.

“Who ordered you to do it?” His quiet voice carried a different kind of storm this time.

“I-I-I don’t know anything.” I swallowed hard, my throat closed on air.

His unwavering gaze forced me to go on without another question. “All Jace asked me to do was to d-distract some men,” I croaked out, breathing heavily.

My scalp burned from the tight and unrelenting hold of the man behind me.

“How are you connected to him?” he muttered blankly but his fingers flexed and returned to stillness, his breath flaring from his nose once like I imagined it.

The pressure behind my eyes pulsed, I couldn't breathe, knowing what my answer would mean. “H-his wife. I’m his wife.”

Was. He’s dead.

My shoulders slumped against the hand of the man who held onto my hair. I was too weak and drained to hold up my own self.

“I know nothing. Please kill me,”

I begged for death—but what if he gave it to me? What if this was the end?

I needed the ache in my heart, the pain in my gut, and the fear in my veins to stop flowing.

He took his time being quiet again. His dark eyes flicked down and back to me slowly, then to the man behind me and my hair was released, leaving me to collapse onto the bed like a log of wood.

The door flew open again, gaining all our attention. The sound of tiny feet patting against the floor and a blur of blue racing towards me forced a tremor to dart through me.

“Giselle!” Little Lauryn screeched in excitement, leaving me shocked, the suffocating air in the room switching instantly.

“I wanted to come see you, but Papa asked me to wait until the doctors gave us a pass to visit.” Her grin was both blinding and overwhelming.

I had a hard time putting myself together with my veins still pulsing like thunder from what had just occurred and the shock of her being allowed around me.

A large frown suddenly overtook her features and she turned quickly. “Papa, is she allowed to leave now?” Lauryn inquired, blinking up at her father.

I’m allowed to leave?

“You said I could spend time with her after you asked her a few questions. I told you Giselle didn’t hurt me. She was nice. She’s my friend,” she said as fiercely as she could muster, her gaze sharpening just like her father's from minutes ago.

I am?

Lauryn’s entire face was scrunched in both a plea and displeasure.

I looked down at the little girl I’d only just met a day ago, and I blinked back the tears threatening to spill. It was so small, yet it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me my whole life—defend me. Stand up for me.

Her father’s eyes remained on his daughter’s, the darkness in them nowhere to be found, but they still remained blank. He let out a very small sigh.

He beckoned for a woman I didn’t even realize was in the room.

“My daughter is never to be left alone or out of sight,” he commanded, his eyes flicking to me before he stood, stalking out of the room with a grace the men I grew up being around lacked—like a flipping panther.

He mentioned his daughter but it sounded like the statement was made for me instead.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lauryn didn’t leave my side after that. Hours later, when my mind and body relaxed as best as they could, my eyes surveyed my surroundings.

I was in the largest and grandest room I’d ever seen in my entire life.

My feet had been untied from the bed, but I was still very much a prisoner.

The middle-aged woman whom Lauryn introduced as Mrs. Taylor—another one of her friends, so it was important we were introduced, according to little Lauryn—was the housekeeper.

I refrained from asking if she had other friends her age.

Lauryn ran around the room, content with yapping on with barely any response from me, and I was content with listening to her outrageous giggles over basically nothing.

I never knew children could be that happy and bright, even children her age—I don't remember being that happy as a child.

I pretended it wasn’t my fault she was just nearly killed, and I distracted myself from how scary and horrid I was certain my face and body must look.

I pretended I wasn’t covered in bruises and bandages. I pretended my husband didn’t just die in front of me a day ago, and I pretended my baby was still resting in the comfort of my insides. Just for one moment, I wanted the anguish all gone. I wanted to pretend everything was alright and normal even when nothing was and will never be.

I jumped at the sound of a loud screech, my heart skipping.

“Lynnie!? Lynnie, baby, where are you? Is she alright?” The door to the room was slammed open again today, and a gorgeous and slender, elegant woman stalked inside.

“Lynnie!” she screamed again, running towards Lauryn, who now quietly stood beside me.

“Oh my baby, Mommy is here.”