The Mafia's Little Raven

LEILA

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The rain never smelt fresh here. Never. It soaked into the old, lined building that looked tired of existence and clung to the air, melding with the stale rot of spilled beer and the acrid tang of burnt cigarettes thrown on the pavement of the alley shrouded in darkness.

I strode through it anyway, fingers tightening around the damp bills in my hands. The wetness didn't bother me. Once dried, it could be used again.

I counted the notes slow, doing maths I was never good at. Mom's hospital bill. Dad's debt...there's nothing left.

I barely registered the chipped brick of my building, or the termite-infested wooden stair, until I was at the door of my apartment.

The moment I creaked the door open, I knew something was wrong.

"Thank goodness you"re back."My father scurried towards me, his breath burning with the pungent smell of cheap beer, his washed black singlet hanging loosely over his alien bony frame. Thanks to years of drug usage.

My stomach twisted. But it wasn't his sight, but them. The men who stood beneath the light. Tall. Huge. Almost swallowing the whole space of our living room.

One of them, tattoos creeping up his throat to the back of his ear, stared at me through his heavy lids.

My father grinned, so wide, that one might think he had won the lottery. "She's the one," he slurred, "my daughter."

His words hit the air and my stomach twisted further. Twisted in the ugliest of ways. This wasn't the first time men came in looking for him. They always did. Stood tall over him, waiting for him to cough up what he owed.

I knew one day they'd come and take something else. An organ, maybe, a limb. Something they could sell.

But they weren't here for him.

But me.

The tattooed man appeared before me, his eyes raking over me like was assessing a livestock for purchase.

His fingers shot out, clamping around my chin.

My skin flared with pain as his thumb pressed into my jaw, forcing my lips open, and revealing my well aligned teeth.

My father's gaze still on us. "Is she enough to pay my debts?"

"She's perfect."

My heartbeat ceased.

"She'll work for it." The man added. Too eagerly.

A hot sensation crawled at the back of my neck and I snapped my head to my father. "What are you doing?"

My voice cracked from the weight of the horrifying tension.

"You'll be fine. Once we clear this debt, I can start taking care of your mother."

A lie. He never did. Every money he took ended up in the hands of bars, and gambling dens-never ours.

Realizing my situation, desperately, I thrust my hand into my pocket and brought out my salary-a month of blood and sweat- and handed it over. "I have the money. Take. This should be enough." My trembling hands fumbled at my necklace and I yanked it off. "You can have this. It's not too expensive, but it would fetch some money."

A smile-one that coiled a bitter sensation at the base of spine-spread across the man's lips. Followed by a scoff. "You think this is a negotiation." His eyes fell to the green notes and necklace on my hand, before grabbing it.

My chest lightened but tightened as he tossed it to the floor.

Before I knew it, I was being hauled over his shoulders, his shoulder pressing hard into my stomach. I twisted, kicked, nails clawing at his skin-all useless. I was weak beneath his grip.

"Let me go!" I screamed a ragged pitch, one that echoed off the walls with peeled wallpaper.

The man chuckled. Did he find it amusing? As he pulled me out of my home, the last sight was my father bent over picking up the money on the floor.

My mother was in the next room-she was sleeping, too sick to know, too weak to stop it.

Despite being dragged to experience whatever hell they had in store for me, one thought that lingered wasn't for me, but my mother.

Who would take care of her, now that I'm gone?

***********

Maybe hours, Maybe a day had passed. I couldn't tell. I had been locked up in a windowless room, so there was neither day nor night for me. It was like a box where time stood still.

The only sign of time passing was when the door opened and someone brought food. Food that remained untouched, abandoned in the corner of the room. It had begun to go stale, its stench lacing the already-laden air.

They had locked me here, saying I had to wait for the one that would decide my fate-their underboss, Leonardo Alvaro. I still remember the chill that shook my core as I realized the family I had been sold to.

The Alvaro family ruled Las Vegas with fear and terror that made the street cower at the whisper of their name.

And now I was here, in their Den.

I curled tighter on the bed, its rough sheets felt sticky against my skin, unwashed for who knows how long.

My mind slipped back to where everything had gone wrong. Back to my mother.

We had a better life once. I was young, and I had the luxury of three square meals and a room to myself. Step siblings who loved me like their own. And my mother-A husband who cared, who provided, who wasn't drowning in alcohol and terrible decisions.

So why had she left him then? Why had she gone back to my father?

Love.

The word left a sting on my tongue. Did love make people stupid and reckless? If that was love then, I never wanted it. I never wanted to be like her.

The door swooshed open, snatching me out of my thoughts. I lurched to a sitting position, my muscles weak and quivering from hunger.

The same who had dragged me here stood before me. "The boss is here." He turned around and headed towards the door.

My stomach churned, but I rose to my feet and followed behind. I trudged behind his trail, through the dimly lit hallways, up the stairs, and then sunlight.

It burned against my retina, but I accepted it gratefully. At least I could see something other than the same walls.

He led me to the room and made me sit.

"The boss will see you soon." He stood still by the corner of the room.

After a few minutes, the door swung open and the figure stepped in.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Jet-black hair, a hue that looked like the moonless sky.

My inside clenched.

I knew those eyes. Those grey eyes that held some speck of blue. I knew him.

My breath hitched as his gaze burned down on me.

I was expecting a monster, a stranger. Not him. Not my ex step-brother. Not Damien.

Damien I knew wouldn't be here. Couldn't be here.

Leila

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Damien shouldn't be here. His father was Tony Smith, an American-not Italian. I knew that much, yet here he was standing before me in flesh, cloaked in a name that ignited fear at every nook and cranny of Las Vegas.

Leonardo Alvaro.

Of every monster in the Alvaro family, Leonardo was the worst. The most brutal. The most feared. There was a saying that you must have committed a grave sin to cross paths with Leonardo.

It never sounded like Damien.

Damien was the boy who ran late to school because he was helping an old woman cross the road. The boy who returned home covered in dirt because he spent his time searching for a lost puppy that wasn't even his.

The boy who refused to leave my side when I was down with a fever.

My breath hitched. The air was thick. Too thick. But this wasn't the time for this. No. I gulped down my panic.

Desperately, I stepped forward.

"Damien," I called his name.

Like the name was foreign to him, Damien flinched-faintly but not unnoticed.

"Please let me go. I'll pay you back. I'll pay every single dime my father owes. Just give me time." My voice thickened as I gripped his wrist, which felt too cold.

The bodyguard prowled forward, a warning glowing in his gaze. But then he stopped as if commanded.

My chest heaved. My breath punctuated by my sobs. "My mother is sick. She...she needs me. She doesn't have anyone else to take care of her. Please just let me go. I'll pay back every dime. I already work three jobs, so I can add more. I swear life, I'll pay."

Each word-each sentence-hung in the air like a desperate prayer. Like damned murmurs of sinners seeking mercy in a church that had long stopped listening.

Silence lingered in the air, heavier than my desperate pleas.

Then, his lips curved into a vile smile. But it didn't get to his eyes. His gaze was empty. Dead per se.

A chill hit the static of my hard spine, and my grip on his wrist loosened before my hands fell to my side.

"Good." His voice colder than the stare in his eyes.

My stomach dropped.

"Wh...what?" I found it hard to process his words.

His brows still straight, and his posture didn't tighten. Damien just remained there. Unbothered.

Then Damien's lips parted. "It brings me great joy to know something terrible is happening to her."

My heart slammed against my ribs and my eyes flew wide.

My stomach churned with nausea. "Why?" I stuttered out the question. "Why would you say that? She was good to you. She took care of you. She loved you and your brother like her own."

The air thickened.

For once Damien's unfazed expression broke as he knitted his brows. His gaze darkened and his fist clenched briefly.

"Ask your mother." Another twisted smile burnt on his lips. "She's the reason I ended up here."

An electric jolted through every nerve in my body. My mother? "What do you mean?"

Damien didn't answer. Instead, he turned to the bodyguard. "Take her away and keep her in a good room," he commanded.

The man wasted no time in throwing me over his shoulders.

"No-wait. No." My fist thudded against the back of the man as he carried me towards the door.

"Damien, please...for my sake," I screamed.

But he didn't move. Not a blink. Not a care in the world.

******

The door swung open and the man tossed me on the bed. The mattress was softer than I expected and the scent of the clean bedsheet wafted into my nose.

Yet, they still offered no solace. Not when my mother was at home-alone. She wouldn't have eaten or taken her medication. And my father wouldn't care. I have come home too many times, to find him slumping on a chair too high to even feed himself let alone another.

The door opened and my head snapped up. A woman, probably in her thirties, stepped in. Her maid uniform simple and her hair tightly packed in a bun.

"Find some clean clothes for her. Soap." The man stared at my skin covered with filth.

The woman nodded before disappearing.

Returning his sharpened gaze to me, he said, "Stay put. Be good and don't do anything stupid."

When he shut the door behind him, I brought my knees to my chest and my breath stuttered as my tears trickled down my face, falling to my kneecap.

When I had seen Damien, for one naive second, I felt relieved that he might let me go.

His cold gaze slipped back into my mind. How did he become this? Then his words hammered in my head.

There's no way my mother could have been the reason he ended up here. Aside from loving my father, my mother didn't make horrible decisions.

The door swung open once more, and the maid dropped some clothes, soap, a toothbrush, and a towel.

"I'm Annette, you should freshen up and change into something clean."

I didn't respond. Just remained still. My knees still pressed against my chest.

Her gaze still on me. "I would advise you to do what Mr. Leonardo tells you. Many people have lost their lives for stressing him out." She turned around and left the room.

I rose to my feet and headed into the bathroom. After taking my shower, I slipped into the clean clothes.

Externally I felt better. Internally I was still a chaotic mess.

***********

Darkness snuck into the sky, replacing the setting sunlight. The door swooshed open and Damien stepped in.

His presence filled the room, heavy like he was oppressing the air. His musky scent with dark chocolate laced the air.

Damien's eyes glided to me who had jerked up on the bed. "Change into it," he commanded, tossing a gown onto the bed.

The gown lay on the bed, its tiny straps spread out and its red color glistening beneath the yellow light of the room.

A hard gulp and I dragged my gaze back to his face, which remained calm. "Where are we going?"

"Action first, question later." He dipped his hand into his pocket.

When a heavy silence stretched between us, when I didn't move because of the knots that had formed in my stomach, Damien answered.

"I'm taking you to a place where you'll work and pay every dime." His voice plunged low. Cold. "You'll work until your bones break, till your skin bleeds."

The air chilled and seeped into my core. Whatever this place was, whatever plan he had for me-I won't like it.

LEILA

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A thick gulp went down my throat, the hard slurping sound slipping into my ears.

Thousands of words burned on my tongue. I could utter none. Not with Annette's words echoing at the back of my mind.

Squeezing the gown into my hands, I rose to my feet and began heading to the bathroom when Damien's voice stopped me-midway.

"Where are you going?"

I turned. "To change. Obviously."

"You can change here," he said, so casually.

My eyes bulged wide. "In front of you?"

Damien leaned against the door frame, arm crossed across his chest and a faint smirk tugged at his lips. "We showered together when we were younger." His voice came out low-lazy.

The air in my lungs stilled as the memory hit me. The two of us, years ago, slipping into the shower like it meant nothing. Clothes flying off without a thought. A care. Damien was smaller then-smaller than me. So short for his age that he barely reached my shoulders. His body was small-too small.

Now, he was something else.

I stared at him, the way he stood there, his broad shoulders taking up the space, tall enough that I had to tip my chin up if I were to ever see his eyes.

How... How did that small, quiet boy turn into this? How did he turn into someone so dominative, and commanding? Someone whose presence pressed down on my chest. Thick and suffocating.

Finally, a faint scoff. "We stopped showering together when I turned ten." I was bold enough to cock my hips. "Besides we aren't kids anymore-we are full-blown adults."

Damien rolled his eyes. It was charming-too charming. My inside twisted-it wasn't ugly. But I wouldn't dare call it beautiful.

"Do whatever you want?"

Inside the bathroom, I didn't stop moving. I grabbed the shirt and yanked it over my head and my hand fumbled with my hair, arranging the black strands.

When I stepped out, his gaze meandered over me. Slow. First, my face, it dropped to my shoulders, tracing my collarbone. His eyes journeyed lower, past the short hem of the dress that ended a few inches beneath my ass, gulping in my legs, before he dragged it back up.

The intensity seared over my skin and my breath fluttered in my lungs.

Like he could see my internal reaction, A smile built on his lips. "Let's go."

I stood still.

"What? Leila." My name rolled off his tongue. Too smooth. To velvety.

"I..." I wrapped my hands around my stomach. "I can't go out like this."

The dress was too skimpy. I felt exposed. I was exposed. Stepping outside and walking next to him was unthinkable. Unimaginable.

His thick brows arched.

He stepped forward. One slow step. Another slow step. As he closed the space between us, I held my breath. But somehow, his musky scent still found a way to filter into my lungs.

Damien slinked his head down, too down, a mere inches away from my face. His breath ghosted against my skin. And for a moment the air charged.

His expression-not a smile, not a frown. "Do you think you have a choice?

"

My chest tightened.

He straightened his spine, dug his hand back into his pocket, and strutted to the door.

I swallowed and followed behind him.

**********

The twenty-minute drive was silent-heavily uncomfortable. The car came to a stop before a large building- a club.

Immediately we stepped out the cold air locked at my skin. I pulled at the hem of the gown. I needed it to be longer. If only I could make myself smaller.

A cold gasp escaped me, and I crossed my hand around me, trying to form a barrier against the chill of the night.

Then came warmth. A coat draped over my shoulders-Damien's coat. The scent of him wrapped itself around me, familiar and strange all at once.

Damien didn't say anything. Didn't even look at me, he just kept strutting into the club.

Inside the club reeked of alcohol and sweat. The air was thick with the neon lights that bled into the darkness and the loud music.

I stayed close behind him, weaving through the crowd, my body constantly bumping into others. For a moment I lost him and uneasiness settled in my stomach. I bumped into more strangers, then I felt a strong hand around my shoulders.

Damien pulled me close, the warmth of his touch burned through the fabric of his coat and settled in my skin. The unbidden warmth journeyed and teased my chest.

I shouldn't be feeling this way.

I shook off my thoughts and followed him out of the crowded space, leading down a hallway, the faint red neon light blending with the darkness.

At the end of the hall, he pushed the door and we entered inside. When the door clicked shut, the loud sound was replaced with a faint hum.

Red leather chairs lined the pitch-black walls. And at the center was a stage with a pole. My breath hitched.

This wasn't what I thought it was right? My fingers curled at my side. When he had said I would work, I had thought he meant cleaning, bartending, something of some sort.

Damien plopped onto one of the sofas, the neon light casting shadows across his sharp features. His greys appeared pitch black. Was it the light or was it something else?

"Climb the stage," Damien ordered, stretching his hand on the sofa.

I remained still, My hands clamming by my side and my heart thrumming in my chest.

"Don't make me repeat myself." Damien's voice dropped-low and cold-spiking fear and something unbidden in me.

With a slow gait, I headed to the pole. I could feel his gaze on me, the intensity like a fire burning me alive.

When I climbed the stage brimming with white light, one that highlighted every feature on my face-every curve on my body-a satisfying smile burnt on his lips.

Those darkened, hungry, grey eyes lingered on me like they had begun stripping me naked. And my breath coiled in my lungs.

His words hit the air, heavy. "Strip."

My stomach dropped.