Prologue

Fillip's POV:

6 years ago...

Bang...

And there he was, the last one of them, dead. His blood smelled of iron and rust as it splashed all over me when the bullet hit his head. Wide-eyed, he fell back off his chair, and I felt no remorse whatsoever. They killed my wife, they pay.

"Christian," I called for my friend and soon-to-be second in command.

"Take him out and all the dead bodies. Burn them and bury them deep in the woods, where no one will find them. I don't care, take them out." He nodded firmly, walking towards the don's dead body. Now New York belongs to me.

"This is our new home, Christian. It's our turn to take charge," I said. All he did was smile - a big, proud one. Then he took the body, leaving the room, and I was alone again.

Whatever was leftover from the blood and the organs left a very familiar smell, and a not-so-welcome feeling tugged at my chest. I fell to my knees, and before I knew it, I was crying. When I hadn't shed a tear for my wife when she died, I felt like I had betrayed her, but now all I could do was sob, thinking of nothing but her.

"I did it, Marie. I killed them all. You can rest now, and I will keep her safe."

Fleur's POV:

We were sitting peacefully, like every other day. I was braiding my little sister's hair while Dad sat by the window reading a book. I was 22 by that time; maybe 23? It's been so long since it all happened. Suddenly someone barged into our home, and before I knew it, Emma was taken from me, along with my Father and my life.

They held my Father to the ground, yelling for their money. I always hated staying here under their protection, for we always had to give them money — lots of it. What I hated, even more, was father lying to us. He'd said that we were here in our cabin in the woods for a vacation. He said we paid them everything for the last three months and that they had nothing on us. Little did me and Emma know he was lying. And it ruined our lives.

They held both of us, me and Emma, as they beat up our Father. "Please let him go. He's an old man. Please let him go. Please," I pleaded, but they listened to nothing.

"Please. I will do anything. Just let them go, please. Let them go," I continued to beg while my sister, my innocent 16-year-old sister, cried.

Finally, the man holding my father looked at me, so I stopped struggling and stared back at him. Slowly, a smirk crept its way to his face as he let Father go, getting up from above him.

As he was moving closer to me, I understood the weight of the words I had just blurted out. "You'd do anything, darling?" He spoke in accented English. If I were in any other situation, I might have even thought of him as good-looking.

Hesitantly, I nodded, and that was all it took for a big smile to crack on his face. "Take her to my car," he ordered the man that was holding me firmly. My eyes widened as I realized what was happening. "No, no, no." I tried to yell, but it came out in a whisper. Soon I was being dragged outside the comfort and warmth of our cabin into the breezing wind of a November day. When we were out, I heard two gunshots breaking through the whistling wind, and with them, my heart broke.

"NOO!" I cried as I tried to go back there, but I was unsuccessful as strong hands held me in place. Finally, I was dragged into the car, and I was bound to this awful life forever.

———————————————————————-

Muffled voices came from outside that depressing room. It woke me up; it is not like I find peace when I sleep in this awful, freezing, dirty room, so I was somehow thankful. I heard Alberto. His cold voice is one I'd recognize anywhere. After all, he had dragged me around houses and families for years, and when they always returned me to him, let's just say it wasn't the prettiest of events.

"Get her ready in less than 20 minutes. I want her to look acceptable." I could practically see his disgusted eyes piercing through the door while he said those words. "If she even can be," he added.

Yes, boss," an unfamiliar voice answered back, and I figured it was someone new in this hellhole.

The door opened with a bang, and I slightly jumped on my bed. It wasn't really a bed, though; it was rough, scratchy, and completely uncomfortable. I have no idea how long people have been sleeping on this mattress—a hundred years maybe? It's as stiff as a rock, and it's backbreaking.

As I thought, this was indeed a new man. The moment he came close to me, I slapped him on the face, making him take a few steps backward. He looked at me with wide eyes; maybe no one warned him about me.

He stopped for a second, and silence lingered between us.

"What the fuck?" He seethed as he practically jumped on me, pulling me by my arms. That didn't mean I made it easy; I made it hell. I made it known that no one was to touch me. At least not without me fighting back.

I fought him, pulling, scratching, and hitting. I didn't stop until there was another bang and the door opened again. We both stopped fighting each other and looked at the door. Alberto was striding toward us. I was held by my arms, so I couldn't stop him when he slapped me across the face and sent me flying down the floor. Quickly kneeling in front of me, he held my face in his hands.

"Look here, stupid bitch, try one more of your childish stunts, and it's not a house I'd be sending you to." His fingers gripped my face even harder, which made tears sting my eyes as they threatened to come out. He continued, "I'll leave you be; maybe that will be the last time I have you here, but if you are not ready within the next 15 minutes, out of these dirty clothes and clean, I won't be so considerate then." Pushing my head away, he looked me up and down one more time before leaving with his man.

I got up quickly and entered the bathroom that was adjoined to my awful bedroom, but it was no different than an old, dirty, standing shower with only cold water. I finished, dried myself, and got ready in ten minutes. That was fast. Maybe I really am as desperate to get out of here as Alberto is to get rid of me, even if just for a few weeks.

When I got out of my room, the same man who tried to get a hold of me was standing there waiting for me. He looked me up and down and gave me a dirty look. I scowled up at him. He took me by the hand and led me to a truck with all of the women who were going to be 'distributed' as Alberto liked to call it.

I sat beside a friend of mine, Sally, who, despite not liking to make friends, was kind. Even though she did this willingly for money while I was forced to do so. I sat while Sally started talking about the last man she pleasured. I zoned out completely and thought, "will I ever see her again? Will this finally be my last time? Will I ever escape?"