Chapter 6 Ellie

I struggle to breathe. The monster, who killed Zane, handed me over to the petite woman wearing a shoulder-length bulb and smarty-pants glasses. He wanted her to tie me up. She locked me inside Tina's bedroom on the down floor without doing the last part.

I cough. This place hasn't been in use for years. Tina's been taking care of my father at her house. Not here. Not this cursed building. Fresh tears sting the corner of my eyes when I remember Zane's lifeless ones. That's all I can see.

I don't want to believe that he's gone. He promised to take care of me forever. He said that he would never leave me alone in this world, but I'm more alone now than I've ever been since my first breath.

Hours pass, and I'm still curled up on the dusty floor thinking. A murder in broad daylight, right before an audience. It is clear that those criminals out there have secondary protection. For that level of boldness, possibly, the cops are in their pockets. Otherwise, we would have heard sirens by now.

Maybe Zane wouldn't have died if the police had intervened. I torture myself with the thought of what could have been.

I would rather feel pain and keep my sanity intact. When I learned of my father's betrayal, my sanity slipped out of my grasp for a while. Knowing he's been lying to me all this time was a punch to my gut. Now I'm paying for his mistakes. Mistakes I had no hand in. Mistakes he's hidden from me so perfectly for years.

Freddie Martin's a businessman? I scoff. He's the fucking mob.

Four Cobras is a name every American knows. High school history class threw light on this ruthless American gang that began in the 1800s and how they ruled over the country until the Italians migrated, along with the Bratva and Irish. I hated war stories, but I should have warmed up to them.

Turns out, my kind and compassionate father is the leader of the greatest gang in history-or was their leader.

Suddenly, the lock clicks, and the door opens. With bated breath, I sit up, digging my fingers into my thighs. It's not the monster who now calls himself my husband.

Another black-haired man stands in the doorway. He sports a black button-up shirt and black suit pants. I notice the shiny cuffs on his wrists. He's yummy tall and has amazing features, but I glare at the enemy as he walks into Tina's room.

"Are you here to kill me like you did my husband?" I hiss.

Silence. I get the notion that he's not so fond of me, either, because he chooses to not speak. He grabs a clean chair-clean only because an hour ago, my butt acted as a wipe.

His arms fold over his chest. "You know, there are two things I hate. Talkatives and stupidly confident people-"

I snort. "I wonder who gives two shits about what you hate."

"Right now, you fall under both. Do you understand what I mean, Ellie?"

"Go to hell, you asshole. Did you hear me? Go to fucking hell."

He smirks like a demon, leaning back in the chair as a moment passes between us. "Funny, lass. Are you hungry?"

"No! You evil monster." I'm fuming like a chimney on steroids, calling him names. "Will you lock me in here until I grow grey hairs? Huh?!"

I'm only noticing now that he didn't come in empty-handed. He picks up the mug from the coffee table next to him and offers it to me. It's been hours since I've had a taste of water. I'm thirsty and I don't know when this offer will present itself again.

"If you aren't hungry, drink this. I assume all that chaos must have given you a headache."

I swipe it out of his hand without thinking. It falls and shatters all over the floor. His face goes dark for a split second. Then, he stands and leaves the room, but he doesn't lock the door on his way out and I frown.

Did he forget?... I highly doubt that.

Uncertain, I follow him, regretting why I didn't stop to look for a weapon inside the room. My hands feel too bare, too weak when the enemy is near.

There's a feast on the table. My mouth waters at the sight of it, but I pass the dining's entrance, resolved to not give in. I look through the window in the foyer and find the courtyard empty. Lightning pierces the night sky. I shiver, far from cold. How did they get rid of everyone that attended my wedding?

"Sit down," his voice beckons me from the living room.

I stare at the front door handle. If I can just turn it open and run, lose him in the storm that's coming. Save myself.

But my father will die as a consequence for that impulsive decision. Who knows where they have Tina and her family? Or the wedding guests, who were mostly friends from California.

I have to kill this man.

I turn, walking towards him. He watches me intently, like we are in a poker game, and he's trying to guess my cards. Like he's my worst nightmare waiting to happen.

Those blue eyes are old from experience. Hard and cruel. Deadly and fierce. They leave an icy imprint on my soul, just the way a grip does.

"Where's the one that killed my husband?" I dart my gaze around, surprised by the thick silence in the house.

It's like we are the only ones in my home. There's another mug on the table between us. I drag my eyes to his face. They slow on the spot on his chest, where he undid a few buttons of his shirt.

A handsome enemy, who's the devil's spawn. Great.

He clears his throat, "You mean my boss, your actual husband."

Oh, so he's their leader. He called himself Cian. I believe it's Cian Cahill, if my pronunciation is correct. I deduced that from his conversation with my father.

"Yes, him. That monster."

"On a trip."

I raise a brow. "Are you joking?"

Eyes distant, he grits, "I wish I was."

Somewhere at the back of my mind, I keep hearing his voice, like it's been registered with me for a while now, but I just met this man today. I'm sure I would know if I ever came across the Irish mafia in the past.

"Wow. He kills my husband, marries me, and goes on a trip. I certainly feel so loved."

"Drink the medicine, Ellie," he says, and it's not a request.

"And if I don't?" I cross my legs and arms, narrowing my eyes to coal slits. "Will you put a bullet through my skull?"

The corner of his mouth curls up in a faint smile. "That can be arranged. Just so you'd shut the hell up and be eternally subservient."

"I will never be under your control. If your boss thought he would be marrying a dutiful wife, then he was very wrong!"

I suck in a long breath, exhaling.

I shake my head, teary again, "You shouldn't have killed Zane."

"Even if he would have killed you first." He picks the mug and turns it over, spilling its contents all over the floor.

I frown, this man confuses the hell out of me.

"Don't you dare disrespect his memory all because you need me to be obedient."

"I can get you to be obedient, whichever way I please, and in a matter of seconds. But when it happens, you won't even know that I've been trying."

I gulp at his iron-made voice. I may have just hit a nerve. My chin lifts despite the fear weakening me like poison.

"You think so highly of yourself-"

"And you think so highly of that fraud, Zane Jakobsen."

"He was my husband. My best friend. So you had better watch what you say!"

He tosses me three photographs. They land at my feet. I refuse to look at them. Nothing he says now will be the truth. He's a liar. Lies are his mother tongue.

"You know, for a mob princess, you are fucking clueless," he grins at my discomfort, taunting me, "Your so-called Zane is the heir to the Armenian mafia. Real name: Mehza Hakobyan. He's been undercover for four years trying to use you to expand his gang's influence to America under the Four Cobras flag."

That grin. It doesn't look like a bluff because his eyes laugh at me. 'Look at yourself, you fool. Did you really think he loved you? How dumb could you have been, Ellie Martin?'

I'm not dumb. Zane loved me. I'm as sure of that as I am about my own name.

"Liar," I say.

He shakes his head, mock-empathy in his gaze, "I pity you, Ellie. All the men in your life have betrayed you to the last." He stands on his feet, taking the mug with him. "You should have just drank the medicine when I asked nicely."

He leaves me in the sitting room, knowing I won't try to escape if I have a working brain. I'm certain he stationed guards in the shadows around the house. They are the mafia, being ruthless is their identity.

If I can't leave, I must make the most of my time, starting with figuring out how to avenge Zane's death. It's the hardest part, considering I'm not a trained killer, but I think I'm ready to die trying.

I rise from the sofa, stopping when my foot matches something. It's the photographs. I don't want to look, but I already have, and I instantly regret it.

I fall back on the sofa, eyes wide, frown deep, and the ache in my head unbearable. Each bears faces. Image one is Zane, my dead lover. Image three is Mehza, this supposed heir, who deceived me.

Image two is the reason they look like two different people.

Zane does not exist. He is a latex face mask, born in a science lab.