Drawn To Darkness (Kings Of Mafia)

(After she was captured…again…)

Lying on the floor, I struggle to keep my eyes open.

My head hurts so much.

I’m cold.

Through blurring vision, I see Milania crying. The other’s just stare at random spots, no life on their faces.

I was so close to escaping.

That might’ve been my only chance.

I feel a needle prick my skin, and seconds later, my pain starts to fade.

No. I’d rather take the pain.Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

I blink and blink as the drugs rush through my system. Time warps, and everything feels upside down. My mind grows fuzzy until it feels like I’m floating.

When it looks like the beds are moving across the floor before jerking back into position, I frown because it’s weird.

Something crawls over me, and I try to rub it off, but moving is difficult as if I’m restrained.

I’m tied up again. No!

I struggle, but I can’t free myself, and more bugs are crawling over me.

I scream and fight the restraints, then suddenly, the restraints are gone, and Mandy’s sitting in front of me, brushing her hand over my hair.

“It’s easier when you just give up,” she says.

Mandy never gave me a stitch of love or any kind of attention, so seeing her looking at me with worry makes something twist in my chest.

Stop. Don’t touch me.

“It’s okay,” she coos. “We’re family.”

She lies down beside me so we’re face-to-face and continues to stroke my hair, an unnaturally soft smile around her mouth.

I stare at Mandy’s face, taking in all the lines and scars.

All my life, she’s looked like this. Old. Tired. Shot up.

Bubbles form around her mouth, some floating into the air. Suddenly, she begins to convulse, and her eyes roll back into her head.

Staring at the white of her eyeballs is freaky as fuck, and I pinch my eyes shut.

When I open them again, Mandy is gone. Instead, Milania is lying beside me. Her eyes are frozen, and there’s puke running from the corner of her mouth.

No.

I fight through the effects of the drugs and manage to lift my head, but it starts to throb.

I take hold of Milania’s shoulder, and shaking her, my words are slurred as I say, “Get up. You need to sit up.”

As my senses steadily return and the effects of the drugs wear off, the pungent stench of vomit hits me.

“Milania,” I whisper.

Sitting up, I lean over her and try to check for her pulse, but I’m not sure I’m doing it right. I hold my finger beneath her nostrils, but there’s no warm air coming from her.

“Shit,” I whimper.

Hit with intense fear and sorrow all at once, I quickly move away from her.

She’s dead.

Jesus, Milania’s dead.

Lifting a hand, I cover my mouth while my breaths burst from me in quick, short puffs.

The warped hallucinations I had while high start to bombard me.

Milania died while I was high out of my mind.

I find a corner and hug my knees to my chest. “Jesus,” I groan, rocking my body. “Jesus.”

My face crumbles as I stare at her lifeless body, but no tears fall.

That’s going to happen to me if I don’t get out of here.

I press my face to my knees, but it hurts, and I have to lift my head again. I suck in deep breaths, the bile in my stomach churning and threatening to come up.

My eyes dart around the room, and I realize the one with the blank stare is gone. The other two are huddled beneath blankets, fast asleep.

I shake my head, struggling to process everything.

Needing to escape, I climb to my feet, using the wall as support. My head spins, and I feel queasy as fuck.

Don’t puke.

Move.

When I reach the door, I peek up and down the hallway, and not seeing anyone, I sneak out of the room. I hear sounds coming from a TV, then someone lets out a loud burp.

“Get me another beer,” a man orders.

“I’m not your fucking maid,” another guy grumbles.

As I near the living room, I keep my body pressed against the wall, sucking in anxious breaths.

I can see part of the TV and boots resting on a coffee table. There’s a window that has yellow-stained sheer curtains.

My eyes latch onto the front door, and my heart beats faster as I hype myself up to make a run for it.

Get to the door. Open it. Don’t fuck up like they do in horror movies. Run like hell.

Movement catches the corner of my eye, and as I glance out the window again, I see armed men approaching the house.

Quite a few of them.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

The last thing I need right now is to be stuck in a gang war.

God, then it’s game over for all of us.

The next second, the front door flies into the house as it’s kicked in. Shocked out of my ever-loving mind, I watch as Dario comes in, looking like an avenging angel who’s a second away from losing his mind.

“Holy shit,” I mutter, completely stunned.

Wearing sexy-as-hell black cargo pants, and a sweater that spans tight across his chest, the man looks freaking hot.

His eyes, filled with rage, touch on me for a second as he raises his arms, a gun in each hand.

Holy shitballs, batman.

I tilt my head, wondering if I’m still hallucinating from the drugs as I watch him fire shot after shot in the direction where the men who are holding us captive are sitting.

Renzo comes in, followed by Franco, both looking as badass as Dario.

Confused out of my mind, I can only stand and stare, not sure what’s real and what’s not.

Renzo points his gun at me, and I start to shake my head. When he fires a shot, a squeak escapes me while I squeeze my body harder against the wall.

I glance down, searching for the bullet wound, but I don’t find any. Hearing a groan behind me, I glance over my shoulder and see a man lying in the middle of the hallway.

The woman with the blank stare is standing in the doorway of the bedroom we were held in.

Jesus. Was she with that man?

I don’t have time to think about it because I’m grabbed by my shoulders and squashed against a warm, solid chest.

“Fuck,” Dario whispers. “Christ, Eden.” He presses his face into my hair, rubbing his jaw over the bump on my head.

When I flinch and yank away from the pain, his hands move back to my shoulders, and he leans down so he can see my face.

His eyes flick all over my face while his own turns darker with anger.

His tone is harsh as he asks, “Are you okay?”

Am I?

“They drugged me,” I complain, very upset about it. “I think four times.”

“Let’s go!” Franco snaps.

Dario slips his arms beneath me, and a second later, I’m lifted into the air and carried bridal style toward the front door.

If it weren’t for the dead bodies in the living room and hallway, and Milania dying, and the fuck ton of shit I’ve been put through, this would actually be the most romantic moment of my life.

My eyes land on the woman with the blank stare, and it has me saying, “There are other women.”

“The police will take care of them,” Dario replies, still looking like the god of thunder as he carries me out of the house. “We need to get out of here.”

I’m bundled into the back of an SUV, and Dario slides in beside me.

Renzo throws a coat at us while muttering, “Put this on her. She must be fucking freezing.”

As soon as Dario shuts the door, he reaches for me again, and pulling me onto his lap, he tucks the coat around me.

His arms engulf me, and his scent fills my lungs.

“I’m taking her to our clinic,” Renzo informs us from behind the steering wheel.

Dario can only make a growling sound in response to what Renzo said.

He pushes me slightly back so he can look at me, and as his eyes touch on all the bruises on my face and body, he becomes even angrier.

This is a side of him I didn’t know existed.

I’m still trying to tie my boyfriend, who loves ballet and opera, to this badass, gun-wielding, hotter-than-ever man.

Lifting my hand, I press my palm against his chest. “Are you really here, or am I hallucinating?”

“I’m here, Tesoro.”

His eyebrows draw together, the expression on his face bordering on heartbreaking as he keeps looking at me.

I move my hand to his jaw and whisper, “I’m okay. A bit frozen and roughed up, but okay.”

He presses a kiss to my palm before I’m gently engulfed in his arms.

The love I feel coming from Dario chases the chill in my bones and warms my heart.