Claiming Buccieri

Excerpt

Chapter 4 (excerpt)

I needed to breathe, to calm myself down. I could no longer take the suffocating, oppressive air of the room. The door at the end of the room teased me as my stomach threatened to spill all its contents on the floor. I couldn't help myself. I wasn't trying to escape. It was clear that they'd kill me if I tried. All I wanted to do was breathe for a minute. I had stayed strong until now. Could anyone blame the irrational thoughts going through my head?

I jumped to my feet and ran, attempting to flee the enclosed space where Donato and I sat. I made it past Lucio – made it past the other four men. I only had Piero to pass.

"Hey," Donato yelled, but I didn't look back. I kept going and then came face to face with Piero seconds later. I quickly realized that I had acted on impulse. What part of me thought that Piero would let me leave?

"I thought you were smarter than that," came Donato's dangerously calm tone, "but you run like a coward like the man I shot. You're as weak as him."

Weak? Did Donato call me weak when I came to work after having the type of day I had, forced to change my normal routine on the floor, having to mingle with the likes of him and his family. I also saw a man getting killed like that for the first time in my life. At this point, even I would justify having a mental breakdown. But no, I wasn't crying even though I wanted to. I wasn't complaining when my complaints would be expected. I even sat next to him despite being scared out of my mind. No – weak was not the word I would use – more like mentally exhausted.

I frowned at Piero, agitated with all the Buccieris, and then I turned directly around. I was past being scared. I didn't care that my hands trembled or that my body swayed as my knees threatened to give way. I wasn't ashamed of the stray tear that slid down my cheek.

I looked at Donato, stared him straight in the eyes. If he looked past my desperate need for air, he would have seen anything but weakness. All I was seeing was a shallow man with a gun pointed at me with no hope for his soulless heart.

If he wanted to shoot me – if he wanted to take my life, then I wanted to make sure my light brown eyes were the last things he saw. I hoped they would haunt him in his sleep for the rest of his life.

"Go ahead, kill me if you want. You had no right to keep me here or trap me with what I saw. You are the coward," I said to his face.