Prisoner To The Mafia King

Chapter Six

Lucia's POV

I don't understand what Damien is talking about. I looked at him with confusion.

“What do you mean?” I said.

He looked at me, his eyes not losing their glare.

“Keep pretending with that innocent act. But you can't fool me because you're just as rotten as your bloodline.

“You carry that deceiving and disgusting pretense, something that Romanos are very good at.”

“My bloodline?” I furrowed my brows. “My father was a good man.”

Damien let out another laugh.

“Good as in what? Define good, Lucia.”

I tried to speak, but nothing came. I searched my brain for a response, anything that would help me here, but the only thing I could think of was pain.

I opened my mouth again to say being good means pain, but every time the word wanted to leave my mouth, my throat choked with the word that I desperately want to spill.

My tongue clutched itself against the inside of my throat before it managed to fall out of me.

I closed my mouth.

“Thought so,” Damien states flatly.

“You can't even define the word ‘good’, yet you claim it is accurate for your putrid bloodline.”

He tilted his head as though a thought struck him.

“There's one thing I can't help but agree with that your father used to call you.”

He seemed to pause, thinking really hard.

“What was it again...”

A smug smile started to stretch the corners of his mouth.

“Ah..., I remember the words. Failure.”

The word struck me harder than a thousand slaps would; it seemed to reverberate through me in a way that would not seem to cease.

“You've always been one, and you'll always be one.”

My chest squeezed with such force that my heart felt like it had invisible arms wrapped around me.

It was too tight for any air to pass into my lungs, my breaths becoming short, shallow gasps.

I've heard those words from my family a lot, and even though they hurt each time, the moment the words left Damien's mouth, it hit harder than when they came from my family.

My eyes blurred in my eyes but that did not mean they could not see the deep wound that was opening inside my chest, where no one could see the painful hurt it caused.

My voice was barely a whisper.

“I… I am not a failure.” I stammered.

Even as the words came out of me, they felt so weak, so lost in the vast emptiness of my hurt as I tried to convince myself, but God, I tried. Lord, I tried so hard.

“We both know that's a lie,” Damien said.

I know, I f*****g knew, and I didn't want another person to tell me that.

Because deep down, no matter how I tried to convince myself, I knew that I am a failure and I always will be.

I tried so damn hard not to cry as Damien spat out those brutal words to me.

But damn, I hurt.

God, I hurt so damn much.

My hands clamped over my mouth instantly, a desperate attempt to shut out the sound.

I hated this; I hate this so much.

What had I done?

That alone only made me both angry and sad. In my rage and my pain, I didn't even notice I'd screamed until after I said the words, as he stalked towards the door.

"If I'm a failure...” I screamed, my voice cracking with rage.

“Then so are you!”

Damien stopped dead.

“You’re a failure just like you were eight years ago.”

That had him freezing; I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to make him feel just a sliver of the pain that I was feeling.

If I was drowning, he was going to drown with me.

Damien turned instantly and stormed towards my cage, gripping the bars so tightly his knuckles went white.

“What the f**k do you know about eight years ago?!” he yelled

I saw a brief flash of something cross his eyes.

Pain? I wasn't sure, but s**t, it felt so good. So f*****g good.

A laugh escaped my throat.

“You're a damn failure too, Damien.”

I locked eyes with him, “The difference between you and me...” I paused for effect, “... is that you ran, you ran, and now you're returning after eight years.”

His jaw tightened.

“Shut the f**k up!” He roared, looking at him all worked up and raging gave me a sick sense of pleasure.

“Ahh… I see, so that's what this is all about.”

It was worth every painful word to see the hatred in his eyes, to see how angry he was.

“You know what, Damien, I don't regret a damn thing.”

I met his stare, unblinking. “In fact, I wish you died along with those goddamn parasites you called parents.” Those words flew out of my mouth, and something instantly shifted.

I'd never seen such pure hatred and pure fury in a person's eyes before.

His face grew dark, and without saying any words, he reached into his pocket, took out a key, unlocked the door, and then stepped in.

My instincts told me to scramble back, but there was nowhere to go. He was in front of me instantly.

I stood up, trying to run, but his hand shot out and slammed me hard against the floor.

It knocked the breath out of my lungs. I struggled against him, trying to push him away, but I couldn't.

His hand wrapped against my throat, squeezing the life out of me.

I couldn't breathe; my vision was getting hazy. Maybe, just maybe, I should die; it would be better than waking up and not knowing what Damien was going to do to me each day.

My chest tightened further.

The small amount of air left in my lungs was dissipating. I didn't care anymore. With my last bit of strength, I managed to push out a final breath, “... des… er.. ved.”

The word died on my lips; his expression flickered, and just as the world faded, someone yanked Damien off me

I gasped, pulling a breath into my burning lungs.

I coughed violently, my chest feeling like it would shatter from the pain. Voices echoed through the room, angry Italian chatter that I didn't understand a single word of.

As my eyes adjusted, I saw that Damien had calmed; an eerily unnerving quiet now descended around us.

The man standing next to him, the one who'd made me watch my parents' death, said something to Damien in rapid Italian.

Damien's eyes were still burning, but a few seconds later the man finished speaking, and Damien gave a single, sharp nod.

So my death would have to wait.

Damien's gaze returned to me, his anger slowly receding until his eyes were vacant and cold once more.

He didn't say anything and left the room.

The other man took a step towards my cage, and terror flooded me. I tried to back away further, crawling backward on the cold tile floor, but he was faster than I expected.

He grabbed my hair and yanked. I let out a choked cry as a sharp sting pricked the side of my neck.

He'd injected me again, and the room began to fade

My vision started to blur as I felt consciousness slip away for the second time.

The last thing I heard before succumbing to the darkness was, “Keep the same energy, Lucia, because this war you started, I hope you'll be able to finish it.”