Bound By Vengeance (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles Book 5)
Bound By Vengeance: Chapter 6

Growl’s mind was racing as he pulled Cara toward his car. He’d often thought about the first time he’d seen her at Falcone’s party. He’d regretted attending the party, especially because her image had haunted his sleep in the weeks after.

He’d felt like a monkey in a suit, and he knew he looked that way too. He knew his boss only invited him, so people had something to talk about. Even after all these years they still regarded him as the monster to fear.

He was a monster, no question. But he wasn’t the only monster in that room. He wasn’t even sure he was the worst. He’d killed the most people with his own hands, that he couldn’t deny. And he didn’t want to. He was proud of what he’d done. Most of it, at least. It was the only thing he was good at, killing. He was the best. And maybe his talent for killing made him one of the worse monsters but he knew how easily the order to kill and maim rolled off the tongues of many men gathered at this ball, how they relished in their power to do so. He wasn’t sure if that didn’t make them just as bad. But it wasn’t his place to decide anyway. Maybe one day all of them, Growl included, would have to face a higher power. That day wouldn’t end well for either of them.

Growl wasn’t too worried, however. He’d lived through hell, still lived it. There was nothing to fear for him. Nothing waiting for him beyond death could possibly do worse damage than had already been done. There was nothing of him that hadn’t been broken, nothing left to destroy, except for his body perhaps, but he wasn’t worried about that either. He knew pain, agony even. It was the only constant in his life. He’d almost come to see it as a friend. Something he could count on, something predictable.

No, he didn’t fear pain, or death for that matter. Falcone always said that made him such a valuable asset. And that was something Growl was proud of, even if the words coming from Falcone’s mouth left a bitter aftertaste.

They took him for dim witted, thought of him as nothing but a stupid lapdog to do their biding without the barest inkling of what they were up to. Like one of the many fight dogs Falcone and so many of the other men kept for entertainment.

But many people had done the same error – mistaken silence for stupidity, equaled lack of words with lack of understanding and knowledge. It was an error they might pay for one day. He knew most of their deepest and darkest secrets, simply because they didn’t keep their fucking mouths shut when he was around. They thought he wasn’t listening, and even if he were, how could he ever grasp what they were saying?

He despised them but they paid well and respected him for his strength and brutality, that was enough for him. He had no intention of using his knowledge. He didn’t need much: money to buy food for his dogs and himself, and for women and a drink now and then. He liked his simple life. He didn’t want complications. He cast his eyes over the cowering girl in the passenger seat. He hoped she wouldn’t turn out to be a complication. He could hardly give her back. Falcone wouldn’t like that.

Not that Growl had any intention of giving her back. She was his most valuable possession to this date. She was looking out of the window, ignoring him. Like she’d done at the party. Like they all did until they couldn’t ignore him anymore. Did she still think she was above him? He turned his gaze back to the road. It didn’t matter. She was his now. The idea sent a stab of pride through him and his groin tightened in anticipation.

CARA

I could barely breathe. From fear, and because of the stench. God, the stench was worse than anything I’d ever smelled before. Blood. Metallic and sweet, oppressing. I could still see the pool of blood spreading beneath Father’s lifeless body, could see Mother kneeling amidst the red liquid, and Talia’s horror-widened eyes. Every moment of tonight seemed to be burned into my mind.

My eyes flitted to the man beside me.

Growl. He steered the car with one hand, looking relaxed, almost at peace.

How could anyone look at peace after what had happened? After what he’d done?

His clothes were covered in blood, so were his hands. So much blood. Revulsion crippled me.

A few weeks ago my bodyguards would have quickly ushered me away from a man like him. My mother had practically dragged me away from him at Falcone’s party.

And now I was at his mercy.

He was a brutal, violent hand of Falcone’s will. He turned to me.

His eyes were empty, a mirror to throw back my own fear at me. His arms and chest were covered with martial tattoos, knives and thorns and guns.

I couldn’t stop looking at him, even though I wanted to. I needed to, but I was frozen. Eventually he returned his attention back to the street. I shivered, and let my head fall forward until my forehead came to rest against the cool window. There was a low buzz in my head. I couldn’t think straight. Get a grip.

I needed to figure out a way out of this.

But we were already slowing down as we turned into a shabby residential area. The paint had peeled off of most of the fronts, and garbage littered the front yards. In a few driveways cars without tires and with broken windows were parked. They wouldn’t be driving anywhere.

Growl stopped the car in front of a garage, which was freshly painted, then he climbed out. Before I could come up with a plan, he was at my side and opened the door. He grabbed my upper arm and pulled me out. My legs could hardly support me but he didn’t seem to care. He led me around the car, over cracked pavement and an overgrown front lawn. A group of teenagers was clustered together two houses down, listening to music and smoking, and across the street a woman with a stained tank top and tattoos snaking up her arms took out the garbage, looking like she would be giving birth any second.

I opened my mouth to call for help.

Growl released a harsh breath. “Do it. Scream. They won’t help you. They have their own problems.”

I hesitated. The teenagers and the woman were actually looking at us, watching how Growl was dragging me toward his house, and they didn’t even blink. Even the blood on Growl didn’t seem to shock them. There was resignation in their expressions, it seemed to seep from their pores. They didn’t have the energy to take care of themselves, to take control of their own lives, to fight for their future, much less for mine. I pleaded them with my eyes anyway, hoping. Still hoping after everything. The woman was the first to look away and walk back into her own house, moments later the teenagers returned to whatever they’d been doing.

Those people didn’t care what was happening to me. They wouldn’t help me.

We arrived in front of a door. The paint had peeled off, revealing sun-bleached wood. Growl opened the door. It hadn’t been locked. My eyes darted toward the group of teenage boys again. They didn’t look like they’d pass up an opportunity to break into a house that wasn’t even locked. I peered up at my captor, at the scar running the length of his throat, the blood on his shirt and hands, at the hard lines of his face.

Growl met my gaze head on and my legs almost buckled under the darkness in his amber eyes. He didn’t say anything.

“Even in this area nobody dares to cross you,” I whispered.

“That’s true. But that’s not why I don’t have to lock my door. Most of the people in the area are junkies and have nothing to lose.” Growl pulled me into his house and closed the door. The inside of the house was even worse than its interior. The AC was running at the maximum, turning the small corridor we stood in into a freezer.

I shivered violently but Growl seemed immune to the cold. There were no pictures on the walls, no decoration at all. This house was a lonely, dark place. All the doors were closed but behind one of them I heard sounds I couldn’t place. Like tapping. Did he have another woman locked into one of them?

Tears pressed against my eyes. This was it. Everything was over.

Had the fight already drained out of me?

He dragged me into a room. His bedroom? The only pieces of furniture were a bed and a wardrobe, but what the room lacked in furniture, it made up with wall decorations. Daggers and knives mocked me from every direction. Growl released me and I stumbled forward. I dropped to my knees. The only other option would have been to fall onto the bed, and I wasn’t going anywhere near that thing. I quickly turned, throat tight with fear as Growl watched me from the doorway. He looked like he’d risen from hell; a man wrapped in darkness, death and blood. A monster.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

“I’ll be back,” he murmured before he turned and closed the door.