Love Bites & Bullet Holes

The Beginning of The End

I was floating. I had to be. There was no other explanation as to why I felt so weightless as if the lightest breeze would end my fragile existence. "Come on..." My brows crinkled at the very smooth, very male voice that echoed around my head. I couldn't place it, couldn't remember ever hearing it before...but...I wanted to hear it again. "Open your eyes for me..." I sucked in a shallow breath, the pull to do as I was told creating an overwhelming pressure within me. Suddenly, I was falling. My body growing heavier and heavier the more it plummeted. Sensation, sound, smell, all my senses came rushing back to me and my eyes flew open with a gasp. Everything bombarded me at once. The feel of something connected to my hands, tubes? The sound of a machine beeping incessantly, and men speaking a foreign language with a hint of urgency to their tone. Was that...Russian? Then the smell of a light cologne mixed with the wearer's unique scent filled my nose and claimed my attention. The source of the scent leaned over me, his face floating into my line of sight and I was immediately fixated. Ice blue eyes stared down into mine with an intensity that was startling, a stern expression on his chiselled features. Who are you?

I must have said it out loud because his brows furrowed slightly. He opened his mouth to speak, drawing attention to his lush full lips, but before he could get anything out the sound of people rushing into the room had him looking towards the door. "The doctor is here." Someone informed him, and he gave a curt nod. Doctor? It didn't look like anything was wrong with him, in fact, he looked perfect. From his gorgeous features to his immaculate dark locks, to his elegant business attire. I finally pulled my eyes from him and looked around me. I was clearly in a bedroom, one lavishly decorated at that. The concept was dark but almost....sterile as if it was hardly used. It barely held any furniture and everything seemed to have their own particular order. The walls were a soft cream and the carpets a complimenting contrast with their dark navy hue. I realized I was in a bed, black silk sheets covering me. I could feel myself starting to panic at the unfamiliar surroundings. I lifted my hands and my eyes widened at the sight of an IV drip inserted into them. W-what? I glanced to the side and frowned at the machine that had been beeping all this time, monitoring my vitals.

Oh God, What was all this? Where was I? Who were these people? but more importantly...Who am I? As soon as that question fluttered across my mind I went into full panic mood. Breathing heavily, I tried to sit up even as I attempted to rip one of the IV drips free. Oh God, Oh God, Oh God! The mysterious male cursed under his breath and muttered something to me in what I was slightly sure was Russian "prekrati eto!" (Stop this). He reached out and grabbed my wrist, forcing them down to my side. Just then, a man, clearly the doctor if his attire was any indication, came in and moved towards me with purposeful strides. Before he got into earshot the Russian male leaned down and whispered into my ears, "Say anything about how you got into this state, or about me and my men and I will kill you." My eyes widened and my body immediately began to shake. "Nod if you understand me." I did as I was told and that seemed to satisfy him. "khoroshaya devushka" (Good girl) he whispered and I barely held back a whimper. I may not know who I was, or where I was, but one thing I did know? I wasn't safe here.

72 Hours Earlier...

I wanted out. In fact, I wanted my whole family to put a stop to generation after generation of illicit and criminal activity. But when your father was the head of the biggest Italian mafia family, that was just plain wishful thinking. I hated this lifestyle. I spent my whole life forced to look over my shoulder and unable to leave my house, most days, without at least five heavily armed men by my side. And every time we moved, the stories I had to tell as to why I was always escorted became more and more ridiculous. At the age of eighteen, I wanted to really start living my life. Like live on campus, go out clubbing with friends, stumble home drunk at two in the morning and not worry about getting a bullet between the eyes.