Married to the Mafia Boss

Arianna

After giving Carmine several kisses goodnight and almost losing my clothes again, I get into my car and join the traffic, ready to go home and sleep in. Traffic is a bit hectic, so I decided to take the scenic route through the outer suburbs. I’m not in a rush to be a caged bird again.

After the discussion with my father, I wonder if he’d speak to Alessandro for me, but I don’t want to ask. I don’t want to play into their hands where they feel they can control me.

I’m tired of being controlled.

Suddenly, my car veers to the side as a large SUV collides with my left side. I try to right myself, but it hits me again and sends me onto the shoulder of the turn and into the barricade. I hit my head on the steering wheel, and the world spins around me.

I feel nauseous, and I put a hand on my head. It comes back wet with blood.

My door wrenches open, and rough hands yank me out of my impala by the arm. I stumble and fall to the ground before two sets of hands drag me to my feet. A sack goes over my face, forcing me to walk blindly. I hit my head again and cry out in pain as they try to get me into a car. Probably the SUV.

My arms are twisted and tied behind me, and I’m left to lie on the vehicle’s floor. I can feel it start to move, and I feel every bump in the road as we leave my car behind.

I don’t know what this is about, but I think that if Carmine were still protecting me, I wouldn’t be in this situation. Whatever…whoever is doing this is after my family. Again, I’m just a pawn to be sacrificed for my family.

I close my eyes, my head is still spinning, and a headache is forming now around the area I hit it. Maybe I’ll bleed out before they can do anything really sinister to me. I hope so. I’m not naive to what families do to each other when an enemy member is captured.

I don’t know for how long we drive, but I feel whatever vehicle we’re in stop, and I’m roughly dragged out by my legs. I hit the tarred road hard, my chin hitting the rough surface, causing my teeth to clatter together and my headache to worsen. Luckily I didn’t bite my tongue off.

Roughhousing to get me back to my feet, I’m half walked, half dragged along. I know we enter a building because I hear the squeak of a door opening, and the temperature changes almost instantly.

We go up some stairs; obviously, thanks to my shins hitting every metal step going up.

“Can you at least let me walk normally or warn me if there are stairs?” I ask loudly, but there’s no response. Up another flight of stairs, I stumble, trying not to hurt myself, and then we walk along what sounds like a metal platform.

I’m forced into a chair. My arms are untied and then retied to the chair itself. I can’t chance to attack whoever brought me here without knowing how many people are in the room. As though an afterthought, I’m patted down for weapons, but I left my gun at home this time.

The sack is ripped off my head, and I squint at the bright light shining in my face.

“I don’t know who you are, but you just contact Alessandro Sorvino, and he’ll sort you out with whatever you want,” I shout.

“Whatever I want,” a male Russian voice says from the shadow. “Will he give me his wife’s head on a platter? With his own?”

He steps into the light, and now that my eyes are adjusting, I can see he’s tall, with graying hair and a bunch of ugly scars across his face. His one eye is milky, definitely blind, and he has yellowing teeth as he sneers at me. “Did he offer my cousins what they wanted?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know anything about the family business. It’s my brother you want to deal with.”

“Oh, I’ll get to him eventually. After I pick off every single person that he loves,” he pauses and claps his hands. “Where are my manners? My name is Igor Triev, my brothers were head of the Russian mafia family, and your brother and his wife killed them. Are we all caught up on our family history?”

He leans down, and his breath reeks. I turn my face away and gag, but I don’t say anything. This is not something I can talk my way out of, and my brother’s advice is coming back to me now that my head isn’t pounding so hard. Don’t talk. It’s what they want.

“What’s wrong, little sparrow? No more songs to sing?” he asks, tilting my chin toward him with his dirty finger.

I pull away hard and glare at him.

“I have no time to go into details to placate you,” he says, standing and backhanding me. My head snaps to the left hard, and I taste blood in my mouth. I swallow, and I can feel my face stinging.

“I’m going to torture you, little sparrow until your brother starts to feel your pain. Do you understand me?” he grins down at me. “Then I am going to torture your mother. Your father. Your brothers. Your baby cousins. When I am done in New York, there will not be a single Sorvino left to take over the family business, and the family will be a lost thought in the air, completely forgotten.”

I glare at him defiantly as he says, “Bring the pliers.”This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

I clamp my mouth shut, and he laughs. “Oh, I won’t do your teeth just yet. This has to be slow. No, there are many ways to torture a person without having them die from shock or pain. I don’t want you to leave us too soon.”

I can feel the fear pumping through my body, but I refuse to let it show on my face. When Alessandro sees I’m not down for breakfast, he’ll know that I sneaked out, and he will come to find me. Then I feel sorry for this fucking clown because my brother does not play nice with people who hurt his sister.

They flatten my hand against the handle of the chair, and I try to clench it, but he’s already holding one of my fingers tightly.

I breathe hard through my nose, trying to tune out the pain. I shake my head, trying to keep myself distracted. I feel the pliers clamp on the nail. It has my fake nail as well as my real one. I try not to whimper, but I don’t think I have the pain threshold to deal with this.

As Igor starts to pull, I moan through my mouth. I pray he’ll stop. That he isn’t really going to go all the way, but as the nail parts with my finger, I keep my mouth clamped but shriek anyway.

I open my eyes to see the blood spurting out of my finger, and I feel hot tears on my face. I shake my head as he clamps the pliers on another one. “Wasn’t that fun?”

I shake my head, but he starts pulling anyway.