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Mikey!

Mikey wake up!

There’s so much blood…so much. Mikey! Joey! Daddy? Momma? Joey? GET UP!

GET UP! PLEASE!

My dress… This is not the right dress. It’s not my favorite dress. Momma said daddy thinks I’m pretty in the other one.

If the man with the flashing lights takes me, mommy won’t be able to find me!

I’m scared!

WAKE UP, MIKEY!

WAKE UP…Chelsea?

“Chelsea!” I shout the name and bolt upright.

Whoa. I’ve never had the nightmare quite likethatbefore. I don’t even remember when I fell asleep, but I know Antonio was here when it happened. He’s gone now.

We’d been talking and then we went for round two. I must’ve dozed off from pure exhaustion.

What a night!

I stretch, get out of bed and head for the shower. I wonder why Antonio didn’t wake me up? Probably because I have nowhere to be so there was no point innotletting me sleep.

I turn on the water, step inside and start scrubbing. I’m actually sticky from all the sex, but it’s a good feeling.

I still feel satisfied from it and find that I’m smiling to myself.

Up until last night I thought that I might live my whole life without ever being fucked properly!

I’m starting to feel a bit better about this whole situation and I have Antonio to thank for it. I asked him a lot of questions last night and he did a lot of explaining.

I know a lot more about their operations and how things work in this family.

Their businesses are vast. What most people considercorruptionis never as simple as we’d like to believe.

The truth of the matter is thatsomebodyis going to the take the extra wherever they can find it.

When the government opens tenders to construction jobs, it’s practically built in to add thirty-percent on top for everybody taking a small taste of it.

The construction companies give us things likeno-showsandno-works,which basically means that we get salaries for guys on our crew who either show up and don’t work…or don’t show up at all.

A percentage of that then gets kicked up to us every time it changes hands. In exchange, the construction site is under ourprotectionand we make sure noothergangs or criminals steal from it.

It’s exactly like paying tax.

In a perfect world it wouldn’t even be called illegal. In fact, the only reason why itisillegal, is because the government chooses to call it that.

The government is just a really big gang with more rules to follow.

I mean, sure, we need to be organized. Roads need to be built, airports need to function, but when you really get down to the brass tacks, the government is window dressing.

Corporations and independent businesses make everything happen.

The governmenttriesto regulate things, but the way Antonio explains it, you could reduce their workforce by three quarters and you’d still achieve the same result.

People who work for the government are the laziest of all!

I stop thinking and enjoy my shower.

When I’m done, I dress much the same as I did yesterday and decide to do some exploring and fill my stomach.

Definitely food first! I haven’t eaten since yesterday’s breakfast. I officially have the run of the place, so there’s no point hiding in my room forever. There must be tons to do around here!

I go out of my room and follow the path that Daniel showed me yesterday—down the hall, down the smaller staircase on the side for the servants and all the way to the ground floor.

A few twists and turns leads me to the kitchen.

I find Carlo there and he greets me with a smile, “Miss Chelsea! Good morning. Would you like some breakfast sent up?”

“Morning, Carlo. I was actually hoping to get the lay of the land today, so I’ll eat down here with you. Let me give you a hand.”

I move towards the stove and the elderly Italian chef gives me a confused look.

I add, “If you don’t mind of course, I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“No bother at all,” he smiles and gives me a hearty laugh, “these men, it’s always Carlo this, Carlo that! Nobody ever comes to help Carlo!”

I laugh.

“I think I like you, Miss Chelsea!”

“You know, I used to be a waitress, so I know my way around a kitchen. Why don’t you have a seat, I’ll take the helm and you can tell me all about how you came to work here.”

I set about familiarizing myself with the kitchen while Carlo regales me with a tale beginning in Italy.

By the time I am done making myself an omelet with chorizo, peppers, onions, cheese and mushrooms, the story ends in this very kitchen.

It included a marriage, impressing my father on a vacation he took to the old country and coming here on a standing invitation that my father had given him—only to find my father had long since passed.

With Carlo’s wife having passed as well, his children in different parts of the world and nothing to keep him occupied, he decided to stay and cook for a man who valued his talents.

That man ended up being Vincent Bernardo, because Vincent pledged to keep every promise that my father ever made—except the most important ones apparently.

After breakfast I wandered through the house—if you can call it that.It was more like a fortress.

There was a library, a billiards room, several fancy living rooms and yet more rooms—the purposes of which I can’t even guess at.

Every so often I came across a guard holding an assault rifle glaring at me till I smiled, at which point I’d get a nod in response.

Tough crowd.

I don’t see Antonio, Christian, Daniel or Vincent anywhere. I walk in the garden for a bit and when I was warned for the third time that a certain area was off-limits, I go upstairs to setup my laptop, tablet and phone.

Vincent said I’d have the run of the place. I guess he didn’t mean outside.

I dump myself on the couch and play with my new toys while I watching television. I download a copy of Sun Tzu’sArt of Warand read as much as I can. I even end up taking a nap for the first time in years!

Finally, with nothing else to do and being bored senseless, I decide I might as well have an early dinner or a late lunch, so I take my usual route down to the kitchen…and that’s when I hear a commotion coming from some part of the house.

It sounds like two people struggling, wrestling and swearing.

I go in search of the noises and they grow louder—Son of a bitch! Motherfucker! Fuckin cunt!

Wow. The language on these people. This must be serious!

I make my way to the foyer and see Christian on his knees, pummeling someone on the ground. Each punch makes the slapping sound of skin hitting skin.

There are three other men standing back and watching. I don’t know why this bothers me so much—Maybe it’s because four on one makes them a bunch of bullies.

I run up to them shouting, “HEY! GET OFF!”

A guard I don’t know grabs my arm and holds me back.

I’m about to kick him in the shin and punch him in the face when Christian turns to me, “Don’t.” He has murder in his eyes.

The man lying on the ground has both eyes swollen shut like a boxer who’s just gone twelve rounds and lost. The rest of his face matches.

Judging from the blood on Christian’s hands—they’re what did all the damage.

“Why the hell not?” I ask, like I’m ready to try and even the odds.

Christian gets to his feet and signals two of his goons, “Get him to the basement.”

As the men fall into action he steps up to me like a gorilla, looking angry, sad, and concerned all at once. “You don’t want any part of this.”

My fingers go to his chest, “You can’t tell me what to do! Your father said I could go anywhere I want. Four-on-one isn’t much of a competition, Christian. Let that man go! You’re going to kill him!”

He looks to the one thug not participating, “Nick, keep her here.”

“WHAT?! Fuck you, Christian!” I lunge at him and I’m stopped byNick.

Christian follows the two men who’re taking the guy away while the burly, fuzzy looking asshole named, Nick, blocks my way.

When I try to move around him, he puts his arms out to stop me. I watch everyone pass through a door that looks like it leads to a basement.

I tell the minion in front of me, “Don Vincent said I wasn’t to be touched and that I have the freedom to come and go as I please. You can either get out of my way or I can tell the Don about you, and your life won’t be worth spit!”

He frowns at me like he’s scared.

“That’s right! Now move!”

He steps aside and I head for the basement door with Nick trailing me. I hurry down the steps, following the muffledsounds, and come to an area that looks like a wine cellar. It’s gloomy.

There are massive casks lining red-brick walls and a maze of support beams to navigate between. I see Christian watching as the other two men tie the beaten one to a chair under a lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

“What the hell, Christian?”

He turns and scowls at Nick, shoots his brow in frustration and says, “Really?” Then he looks at me, “You can stay or you can go, but this is happening.”

“Why?” I ask, “What did he do?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to find out,” Nick smiles with a touch of sarcasm.

The guy in the chair sputters, “Please, Chris, I didn’t mean to!” Blood and spittle drip from his face. It’s like a horror movie…something you’d only see on a screenknowingthat it’s makeup and prosthetics…but this is real—and so much worse.

Christian backhands the guy.THACK!He turns to me again, “This junkie here on the chair is hooked on smack, you want to take a guess where he gets it from?”

I have no answer, I’m guessing the question is rhetorical so I wait for more.

“Cassian,” Christian raises one eyebrow, “now, I’m not saying that people fromthisfamily, can’t be friendly with people fromanotherfamily,” he speaks to everyone in the room, “after all, that’s how we conduct business…through good relationships.”

THACK—he slaps his captive once more.

“But one of the tenets ofthisfamily, is that we do not sell, trade orusenarcotics!” Christian reels back and this time lands a solid punch, then he grabs a fistful of his hair, “Because it makes you weak. It makes you a liability and it impairs your judgement. It gives you loose lips, doesn’t it, Jimmy?”

The guy in the chair, Jimmy, blubbers, “Please, Chris. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” I see his eyes rolls. He can’t focus. He must be concussed if not worse.

Christian turns to me, “You see, Jimmy’s been getting his skag for free. Unfortunately, what Jimmy didn’t understand is that nothing’severfree.”

Christian picks up a big hunting knife from a nearby shelf and shows it to Jimmy.

“Chris, please. Please, Chris,” Jimmy begs.

Christian shrugs, “You broke my heart, Jimmy.” He puts the blade to Jimmy’s face and cuts deep from his forehead, down the side of his face, all while Jimmy screams like…well, like someone is cutting his face!The skin flaps away like bologna.

I’m frozen solid.I’m terrified, but I can’t look away. My adrenaline spikes…my heart rate climbs.

Chris carves Jimmy’s face like a sculptor, punctuating the art he creates by sticking the tip of the knife into an eyeball before flicking it out.

The eyeball lands on the floor, tendril attached. I turn to the side and support myself on a cask…the contents of my stomach won’t stay…I retch

Suddenly the deafening screams are gone. I heave once more and try to recover, wiping my mouth on my shirt. Anywhere else, I might’ve thought the eye was Halloween candy. I don’t dare look at it again.

I look up and see Jimmy’s head lolled to one side. He’s not moving. I go to Christian and grab his arm, “If you wanted him to talk, you shouldn’t have taken his fucking eye out!”

He smiles at me…and right then, I know I’m looking at a man for whom committing murder is as natural as breathing.

Christian lightly pushes me aside, “The Cassian have got Jimmy pumping black tar into his veins, he didn’trealize that what they’ve really been pumping washim—for information.” He turns to one of his men and says, “Wake him.”

The guy cracks a small vial and holds it under Jimmy’s nose.

“Smelling salts,” Christian explains.

Jimmy jerks awake. His breathing is labored. He doesn’t struggle. There’s no fight left in him—I don’t know if there ever was.

Christian puts a hand on his shoulder, “Think carefully, Jimmy. This can end. I need you to be sure and then it’ll end. I promise.”

“I swear…only her…name, Chris,” Jimmy wheezes in agony, nodding at me.At me? Why me?“I told them…I heard…that…Chelsea Lombardo…was alive. I’m…sorry, Chris. I let…you down. End it.”

Christian looks at me somberly, then takes the handgun he’s offered by one of his men and puts it to Jimmy’s head. “I’m sorry too.”

POP!