Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Chapter Fifteen

Malcolm "The Smile" Fiorelli

I see the nervous gulp she makes when her eyes meet mine. Good, that means she'll listen. Her eyes can't look more defeated, they almost look dead. She's not used to this cruel side of the world, not like we are. We chose this, she didn't. Being a woman is also a disadvantage. Most men in the criminal world look at women as objects to be traded or sold. I won't allow her to become one of them. Though, as the world has progressed over the years, more women have risen to power within our line of work.

I grew up in a healthy household, if I may say so myself. My father treated my mother like a queen and taught me my core values that I still carry with me today. Unfortunately, my parents were murdered shortly before I turned eighteen, and my uncle took me in. My outlook on everything was clouded by grief and anger, and I wanted nothing more than to hunt the perpetrators down to execute the vengeance I so strongly had a desire for, but my uncle saved me. My uncle reformed me, made me into the man I am today. He taught me to respect women the same way my father respected my mother. My mother was an innocent woman, and innocent women were to be protected at all costs. Call me old-fashioned, but those values stuck with me.

Lena wasn't a part of the plan. She has definitely made everything more interesting, but I didn't expect Weasel and his men to be so ruthless towards her this fast, and it irks the shit out of me. Her bruised small frame, and the dried blood on her skin and clothes makes her look broken. But she's not. Her mind is still with her. She has thought of the quickest and most sparing way to die for her, at least in this situation. Smart girl, but she's not dying here. We won't allow it. I hold her gaze, unblinking. I want her to know I see her, and I see what she is doing.

"Lena." I say her name. She looks at me and barely lifts her brows in acknowledgement. I raise one of mine to show her I expect a better response. She clears her throat before finally giving in to my silent request.

"Yes, sir?" We're back to sir. Great way to distance herself as well. No names. Again, smart girl.

"Come here." I motion for her to come to me as well as the restraints on my wrists allow me to. She doesn't move. She looks at Nico, who gives her a little nod, then she looks to Isaac, who does the same. I've been told a time or two that I look a tad intimidating, so I don't count it as disrespect when she looks for encouragement elsewhere. She walks towards me slowly, until she is a foot away. Her body language tells me she's not coming any closer than that.

"Take my hand." I order her, I keep my voice low but firm. I want her to think about my request without being too intimidated by me. I want her to think she's free to say no, but in reality she doesn't really have a choice. I can make Nico force her if I have to, but that won't help us gain her trust. Also, the last thing she probably wants to do right now, is to touch another man. I imagine Weasel and Gunner weren't lenient to her. She's fighting an inner battle now, confused by my request as well as the consequences. My eyes don't leave her, not for a second, adding pressure on her. She finally cracks.

"Will you break it?" She looks so torn, I think she's tired of being hurt by the hands of strangers, and now I'm asking her to willingly give her hand to me, another stranger.

"Care to elaborate?" I keep it short, her question confuses me.

"Why do you need my hand? I swear I didn't tell them anything. I'm not even sure I've even spoken a word to them. I don't actually truly know anything either." Her breath is shaky between her words. "Please don't break my hand." Fucking hell. She thinks I'm going to hurt her.

"I will not break your hand," I try to keep the anger out of my voice, the death coming to Weasel and his people is going to be magnificent. "I give you my word." I'm a man of my word, many people have had to figure that out the hard way. Her shaky hand finally touches mine, but her worry doesn't seem to ease, and she is trying to hold her breath, keeping herself together and avoids eye contact.

"I need you to breathe, Lena." Her eyes snap back to me, "Breathe." I caress the back of her hand with my thumb. "If you don't breathe, you're going to pass out." She finally caves and takes big gulp of air, which turns into several frantic breaths. She collapses to her knees, releasing my hand in the process. She's grabbing onto my pant-leg while she finally lets her façade down. Her head is by my hand now, and I reach the top of her head, stroking it softly. "There you go, pretty girl, let it out." She's trying so hard to be quiet, but a few sobs and whimpers make it out. I find Scarface staring intensely at our interaction. He gives me a nod of approval at the progress we've just made. He looks as relieved as I feel.