Mine. Only Mine
1276 Words
Romano
“We can’t find her!” my assistant’s voice brought me back to reality.
“What do you mean you can’t find her!? It’s been two f*****g days — my wife ran away from home and you’re telling me you can’t find her!” I fired back.
“We found a high-end club she ran to, but they said they don’t know when or who she left with,” he replied.
“What!!! Left with!?” I barked. “Who dares take what belongs to me!?”
Someone’s going to die tonight if she isn’t home.
“They don’t keep CCTV inside, only outside,” he added quickly.
Of course. Privacy. How could I forget?
“Did you at least check the outside footage?”
“We… found nothing. No clear shot from last night,” he murmured, shrinking under my stare.
“Get me the f*****g owner. Now,” I fired.
He ran out.
I stood there shaking, rage ripping through me.
I pushed everything off my table, glass shattering around me. I punched the wall until my knuckles bled. I couldn’t even feel the pain. Just the thought of her being in another man’s arms is driving me insane. She doesn’t dare do that.
I kicked the table, turning my office into a wreck. Dropped to the ground, chest heaving, grabbing her broken portrait from the floor. Stared at her picture, her image calming the storm, the rage, and fire brewing in me.
I don’t know how long I stared, but she stared right back. Her perfect little body, her brownish eyes dancing in the sunlight, her thick dark brown hair. God, she’s perfect in every damn way.
She takes pain so f*****g beautifully.
How she bites her lips, the way her eyes turn soft when she’s about to cry. A slow smile crept across my lips.
My bloody thumb traced her lips on the glass.
Mine. Only mine.
The thought of another man touching her — rage roared back.
My hand dug through the frame until it splintered, shards slicing deeper.
I rubbed my bloody hand over her lips.
“You’re coming home, Allie,” I whispered, low and ragged. “No one will take you from me.”
---
The room wasn’t fully lit; I could hear him whimpering.
“Just tell him what he wants to know!” one of my boys snapped, slapping him hard across the face.
“Just tell me who the f**k called her,” I said, slowly walking toward him, rolling my sleeves up and putting out my cigarette.
“I don’t know, I swear, I don’t know,” he whimpered.
“You mean to tell me s**t happens at your club and you have no records of your clients? You’ve gotta be shitting me!”
I moved closer and shoved him hard across the face.
Yes, my hand still hurt and was bandaged, but it’s a good kind of pain.
“All I know is one of our reputable clients beckoned for her,” he croaked, blood oozing from his face and nose.
“I don’t know him. He only comes through his assistant. I know nothing else,” he whimpered.
“I’m sure you will — after much torture.”
I took a pocket knife and stabbed it down through his hand into the table. He screamed in pain.
“You will tell me what I want to know. Who is this coward who took what’s mine?” I fired, pressing the knife deeper.
He cried out, slowly losing consciousness.
Weak. Coward.
“Take care of him,” I said to my boys, signaling with my hand. They dragged him away.
I stood up, cleaned off my blood-soaked bandage, and poured myself a glass of scotch.
But even as I drank, my mind still burned with one thought: “Allie.
Wherever you are…
****
The room was dense. My mouth was tied, and I was strapped to the chair. Sweat dripped from my face; I was panting, struggling through my muffled mouth, words stuck inside.
Across the room: my husband. Just pants and shirt sleeves rolled up, showing his falcon tattoo. Blood mixed with sweat dripped from his fists as he punched a man. I couldn’t see the man’s face, swollen and covered in blood.
I was screaming at my husband, but it felt like my voice fell into a void. My chest burned from dehydration; darkness crept in.
A splash of water snapped me awake.
“Wakey, wifey,” my husband crooned, untying my mouth.
“Why are you doing this? Just stop,” I sobbed, voice shaking.
“This is the prick of a man you want to be with?”
“What?! No! I’d never. He was just offering to help when you didn’t come pick me up. I swear, he didn’t do anything!” I pleaded.
“Just let him go! Please! I promise I’ll never talk to anyone again unless you ask me to,” I begged, my voice cracking.
“Yh sure you won’t,” he smirked.
“Romano!!” I screamed.
His face turned ice cold. “What did you call me? What the f**k did you just call me?”
My body shivered. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it, honey…”
“Oh yes… he sure taught you to go against me.” His hand closed around my neck.
“No no no… leave him out of this, please…” I choked out.
“You brought him into this. And he’ll pay the price.”
“Do it to me! Whatever punishment you want to give him, do it to me. Just leave him out of this!”
“Aww my dearest wife… I dare not hurt you because of this rascal’s mistake. He’ll pay for what he did. Don’t be soft on him,” he whispered, voice dripping poison.
“I’ll give you what’s yours… and give him what’s his. No cheating.”
His hand slid to my lips. “Yours is private. And really good,” he added, kissing and biting my lip. “He doesn’t get to see that. That’s between us.”
“Now let’s get this over with.”
“Please, man, I didn’t touch her! She tripped, I caught her, asked if she needed help!” the guy sobbed, face unrecognizable under blood.
“You dare touch my wife!” my husband roared, voice shaking the room.
Oh God, he shouldn’t have said that.
My husband stalked over to me, gun in hand.
“How did you touch her? Like this?” His hand skimmed my waist.
“Like this?” Fingers brushing my face.
“You touched her here?” The gun traced my chest, sliding down my cleavage. My body folded away in fear.
“Motherfucker!”
“You know I love that part of her, right?” he asked, calm as death.
“Isn’t she the prettiest thing?” he asked the man, now behind him with the gun.
“Yes… yes, she is,” the man stammered.
“And yet you touched what wasn’t yours. That’s f*****g theft, man.”
He stepped beside me, aiming the gun toward the man from my side.
“Shoot him, baby. The guy who violated your body.”
“Honey, please!” I sobbed, trembling.
He pulled the trigger.
Blood exploded across the room.
I screamed, heart splitting in my chest.
“It’s play time, baby,” he whispered against my ear. His bloody hand going up my thigh.
“Nooooooo—”
I woke up, gasping, chest pounding. Sweat soaked my sheets. Heart racing. My body shaking.
- Writer
