Sold to Moretti Mafia

Lucca

I’ve never wanted to kill anyone as much as I want to kill Petro Volocove right now. He fucking took her. He fucking took Claire. They left Steven beaten and Tracy a sobbing mess. I could barely understand her on the phone, she was so distraught.

Not as distraught as the Volocoves’ are going to be after I’m done with them.

“Where is she?” I growl at the two guards who open the front door.

“Mr. Volocove and his guests are waiting for you in the dining room. I’ll take you there,” one of the goons tells me. He leads the way, and I follow impatiently.

He opens a large double door, and the spacious dining room comes into view. The moment my eyes fall onto the head of bright red hair, I shove the guard out of my way and storm into the room.

“You fucking bastard,” I growl, heading straight for Petro, who is sitting at the head of the table. Immediately, more guards appear at my side, and two men from the table stand up with their guns drawn.

“Please, gentlemen. Let’s have dinner without killing each other.” Petro snickers, and the need to fire a bullet into his skull surges up once more.

“Yes, let’s be civil, shall we,” the man next to Petro says, and I recognize him as Bruno, Petro’s brother. The third man at the table is Igor Volocove, Petro’s nephew and Lev’s brother.

Julian recently killed Lev Volocove, which I’m guessing is the whole reason I am here now.

“Lucca, have a seat.” Petro waves at the chair next to Claire.

Igor and Bruno sit back down and stash away their guns. Only then do I allow myself to look at Claire. She is staring at the plate in front of her, her shoulders slouched like she is trying to make herself even smaller.

She doesn’t raise her bowed head, letting a curtain of hair shield her face from me. As I step closer, I notice how her entire body is shaking. I grind my molars together and take the seat next to hers.

“Claire, look at me,” I whisper. Reaching over to touch her arm, I wrap my fingers around her slender wrist.

She turns her head, and emerald eyes filled with fear stare back at me. Her lip quivers, and her cheeks are tear-stained, but other than that, she looks okay. There isn’t a scratch on her that I can see, and they better be fucking glad there isn’t.

“I told you on the phone, no one hurts her as long as you do what we want,” Petro tells me, as if his words mean anything.

I take Claire’s hand in mine and keep holding it between us. Using my thumb, I rub small circles over her skin, hoping to calm her, at least a bit.

“She is coming home with me.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. I need her to remain here, to make sure you will continue to cooperate.”

“I already said I would. I’m not leaving here without her.”

“She might mean something to you, but you are also loyal to Moretti. Plus, I have to assume you value your life, so I can’t risk you not going through with the plan. She is to remain here until Julian is dead, then she is free to go with you.”

I want to rip his throat out, drive a knife into his chest and pull out his guts all at once. Unfortunately, I’m wildly outnumbered. There are at least twenty men and only one of me. This is a battle I won’t win.

There has only been one time in my life I have felt this helpless.

I stare at my hands, clasped together in my lap. Blood. So much blood. I can still hear her agonized screams, still feel the rage pulsing through my veins, the need to lash out so strong it controlled every thought and action. All I could think was to remove the problem, to hurt the person hurting her. I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. He deserved it. And even if she hates me for killing her father, I did what was right.

Looking up, I peer around the waiting room, wishing I was back in the operating room with the doctors, making sure they take care of Claire. Instead of sitting in this chair, waiting for a doctor to come to me.

My leg bounces up and down nervously until I shove out of the chair and march over to the front desk. I had to tell them Claire was my sister when I brought her in, or they wouldn’t have given me any information on her.

“Can you tell me if there are any updates on my sister?” I grit the words out as slowly as I can. I don’t want to cause a ruckus, but I need some answers before I explode.

“Claire, right?” she asks like she doesn’t already know.

“Yes.”

She makes a couple clicks on her computer and then looks back up at me. “There isn’t anything on my side to share. When the doctor is ready, he will come out and see you.”C0pyright © 2024 Nôv)(elDrama.Org.

I slam a fist against the counter, causing the woman to jump in her seat. “I want answers now. Is she okay?” I force myself to calm because if I don’t, I may rip this entire hospital apart piece by piece.

“I’ll… I’ll call back to surgery and ask…” The woman squeaks. I nod and drag myself back to the chair, slamming down into it.

I take my head into my hands. All I can think about is how she’s just a fucking kid, and now she has no one. I mean, she had shit before, but now she’s truly all alone. I knew the moment I brought her to the hospital, I would be the one to step up and ensure they took care of her. Still, the mob isn’t any place for a child, and I’m not sure I’d be any better of a parent to her.

The thought of letting her go kills me, though.

“Mr. Torres,” someone greets, and I lift my head to find a doctor in a white coat standing in front of me.

I must’ve been so lost in thought that I didn’t hear him approach.

“Yes, that’s me.” My voice cracks. “Is she okay?” The beat of my heart drums in my ears, and my lungs burn as I hold my breath while awaiting his answer.

“The surgery went well. There was a small amount of internal bleeding that we stopped. Her right arm is broken. However, we set it, so that’s good to go. Our primary concern is the damage sustained to her eardrum.”

Panic claws at my insides. “What happened?” I barely withhold the growl threatening to pierce the air.

The doctor raises his hand in an I’m-not-the-enemy-here kind of way. “She suffered extensive damage to her inner ear. We fixed it as best as we could, but realistically, only time will tell if she’ll make a full recovery-”

I shove from the chair, all the emotions I’ve been keeping at bay rushing to the surface. “What are you saying? There’s a chance she won’t recover?”

“What I’m saying is that her eardrum might never heal, or it might not heal right. That means when she wakes up, she might be deaf or partially deaf. We won’t know until she is fully awake and can tell us.”

Deaf? She might be deaf? I could handle that. Handle anything as long as she isn’t dead.

“When can I see her?” I squeeze the arm of the chair to keep myself in place.

“In just a few minutes. The nurses are setting her up in a room right now and once they’re finished, I’ll have them come out and get you.” He smiles, but I can’t bring myself to return the gesture. I’m thankful that Claire is okay, but I know she’s got a long road ahead of her.

“Thanks, doc.”

“You’re welcome.” He walks back through the double doors and disappears into the E. R. leaving me alone with my thoughts once more.

All that matters is that she is okay. That she won’t have to return to that house or her father hurt her ever again.

Thirty minutes and three coffees later, a nurse finally comes to get me. I feel sick to my stomach when I enter the room and find Claire lying there, hooked up to a bunch of machines with an IV protruding from her arm.

Her skin is ashen, in the unbruised spots, and she looks like a fallen angel. Battered and broken. I vow then, in that single moment, to never let something like this happen to her again, not as long as there’s air in my lungs and blood pumping through my body.

Moving closer to the bed, I spot her tiny hand cradled near her cheek. I want to reach out and take it into mine, to let her know she isn’t alone. Dragging my gaze from her hand, I return to her face and find her eyes open.

They’re big and wide with the residue of sleep crusted to them. Recognition takes place in an instant, and the moment it does, she eases as far back on the bed as she can, both terror and fear overtaking her features. The dread in her eyes shakes me to the core. Steals the air from my lungs and makes my heart skip a beat. She’s truly afraid of me. Afraid that I may hurt her the way I hurt her father.

All I can do is stare at her, see her delicate face morphed with fear and pain, see the bruising. Her green eyes glisten with unshed tears, and I hate seeing them there, knowing that I’m the cause for them. It eats me up inside.

I feel responsible for her, but knowing she is afraid of me, knowing that I can’t even get close to her, tells me everything I need to know.