STOLEN || 18+ (Monsters #3)

.67. Medusa

You looked at me and all I could think about was the feeling of wonder I feel when I look at a shooting star. You were there for me, just for a short moment of time. But, God, you were beautiful.

. . .

Giovanni

Two weeks more and we still couldn't get a hold of Testa.

Leyla was getting comfortable. I touched her and kissed her but I couldn't fuck her.

Because, well, I was busy.

Torturing Angelo.

I moved my eyes from the smiley painting hung on the dirty wall of the basement, and returned my eyes to Angelo.

He was not dying. Yet. I had been polite to him.

"Angelo," Luca walked to him. His cuffs were red with blood after killing another camorrista after interrogating him. We needed to control Testa. And Angelo was the key.

It was taking time to break him. Something I enjoyed.

"Ready to be useful?" Luca asked him.

Angelo spat on the ground near my shoes. "Fuck you both," he snarled Italian.

I smiled. This was just what I had hoped.

. . .

I walked out of the basement which reeked of blood. I wiped my fingers with a handkerchief staining it red. Angelo's screams rang in my ears, making me groan at the headache already forming.

My phone rang.

"Testa."

"He is mine," he snarled in Italian. "You hear me, Valentino? I get to fucking kill him. Not you."

"I want my sister, Testa," I said. "Get her from the fucking Spanish bastards and give her to me. Then, you can have your father."

Testa was good. But he was young. Anyone could kill a man - to twist him was another thing.

He'd learn. His madness was too apparent to be ignored. He'd learn.

And I'd have to kill him then.

"Leyla is mine, Giovanni."

"I'll be sure to tell her that when I fuck her pretty cunt tonight."

I could feel his rage from the other side of the phone.

"You have two weeks," I said. "Bring me my sister and take your father."

"Do I have your word you'd hand him over?"

"You have my word."

He'd get his father. Whatever would be left of him.

. . .

"Well, it was me who found him," Zavier said to me. "I should get the credit. Kitten agrees."

"Yeah, somebody give him the fucking Nobel price," Xerxes muttered, looking down at his drink. He had stopped drinking as much as he used to.

Leyla set her head against my shoulder, her fingers playing with mine, her eyes downcast. As much as I enjoyed her being demure from time to time - I yearned for her braveness more.

I tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Sleepy?"

She shook her head. "Nope."

Liar.

But I let her relax on my lap for a while more.

We were in my office. Zavier and Xerxes were to leave tomorrow. Zavier had been the one to catch Angelo - something he kept mentioning.

I left Xerxes and Zavier to bicker after a while with Leyla, who was not sleepy, sleeping in my arms.

I laid her down on her bed, tucking her in, and kneeled on the ground, looking at her face. I folded my arms on the soft mattress, setting my head atop them, looking at my beautiful Leyla.

Looking at my sad Leyla.

No matter how happy she seemed sometimes - she was not happy. Happy to her full capacity.

I'd be able to give that to her in two weeks.

We'd give her a choice.

We were not going to be just two more men who took away her choice.

Stay or leave.

I brushed my fingers on her cheek, smiling as she snuggled into my hand.

We had two weeks. Two weeks to make her fall for us.

That was going to be hard. We were not exactly loveable men.

But there was a time I thought I'd never be able to soften my touch, yet when I tucked strands of her hair behind her ear my fingers move so gently it shocked me.

Her eyes fluttered open.

She didn't say anything as I stroked her head, watching me quietly as I did.

"You should sleep."

She hummed, snuggling deeper into the mattress, getting comfortable. "I should."

I took her chin between my fingers, pressing a kiss on her lips. "Sleep, baby."

She frowned. "Not sleepy anymore."

I sighed, standing up. I took my shirt off, watching as her eyes whispered all over my muscles and tattoos and scars. Half of the tattoos I had didn't mean shit. I had just gotten them because I liked the pain.

"I wanna get a tattoo," she mumbled.

I raised an eyebrow, taking my trousers off. "Yeah? What do you want?"

She sat up. "Medusa, I think. Just a tiny tattoo of her here." She pressed her fingertips to the side of her neck.

Medusa. I was familiar with the myth.

"Okay," I said. "When do you want to get it?"

She tilted her head. "As soon as possible?"

I shrugged. "We can go now."

. . .

Leyla

"Okay so I've sketched Medusa a million times," Olivia spoke on the phone. "I like the last one. It has the most detail."

I looked at the pictures she had sent on Giovani's laptop. Fabiano was sitting beside me in the limousine. Giovanni was across us.

"It's beautiful."

"The second one is good, too."

I scrolled up. "It's beautiful."

"How about the fourth one? It looks intimidating."

In this one, the snakes on Medusa's head were snarling. Medusa herself was smiling in a way that suggested she knew her power. In a way, it suggested that she was unafraid and knew she was untouchable.

It represented everything I wasn't.

"I want this one," I said.

"It's going to look amazing," she said. I could hear the smile in her voice.

"I'll show it to you when it's done?"

"Sure thing."

We hung up.

I turned the laptop to let Giovanni see the picture.

He moved his beautiful green eyes over it. "I like it."

Fabiano hummed in return, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me flush against his side.

"Do you know this tattoo artist?" I asked in a whisper, setting his head against his chest.

He hummed. "Yeah," he spoke in his deep voice. "He tattoos Giovanni and I."

"Friend?"

"Si."

. . .

Still on my break but felt like writing one chapter.