Sold to Moretti Mafia

Claire

Present

I keep my eyes trained to the floor, walking down the long hallway that leads to the double doors ahead. All I have to do is get outside, and I’ll be free of this building, and the people inside of it, for the rest of the day.

The dull sound of footsteps and chatter echo around me as the hallway fills with students being released from their last class of the day.

Everything I do is to limit the amount of attention I bring on myself. Today, however, there is no avoiding Cinderella’s three wicked stepsisters.

I look up just in time to see the three witches leaning against a nearby locker. My gut tightens like a knot being pulled tight. I hate them. Hate how they make me feel. How they bully me. Making fun of me because I can’t hear properly. Because the teacher always makes me sit up front because I have to ask people to repeat questions or look at me so I can read their lips.

They don’t like me because I’m different. If only they knew what made me this way, what caused me to lose my hearing. Maybe then they would be a little more compassionate.

Or maybe not.

Arabella sticks her heeled foot out at the last moment, and before I can stop, I trip over it, barely catching myself with my hands; my face nearly collides with the linoleum. Pain ripples up my arms from hitting the floor, and I grit my teeth, holding back a curse.

“Looks like Claire can’t walk any better than she can hear.” Bethany sniggers, tucking a strand of silky blonde hair behind her ear.

Popular. Gorgeous. Perfect in every way.

Bethany is mean, but nothing compared to the ringleader, Arabella. I shake my head and reach for the book I had clutched to my chest. My fingers graze the cover just as Arabella’s pointed heel comes into view.

Like the bitch she is, she presses it against my hand. My jaw quakes with how hard I’m clenching it.

“Oops,” she sneers and pulls her foot back a second later.

I bite my tongue, holding back the insult that’s building at the tip of my tongue. Nothing I say to them will change how they act. They want to hurt me, and I’m not giving them that type of satisfaction. I grab my book and scurry off the floor and out of the school before they try to do something else to me.

I don’t stop running until I reach the bus stop, and my heart doesn’t stop racing until I take my seat. My phone vibrates to life in my pocket, and I reach inside my tight jeans to pull it out. Hope flashes across the screen.

My best friend. My one and only friend. My lips turn up at the sides, and I answer the phone.

“Hey!” I hold the sleek device to my good ear.

“Jesus, I thought someone kidnapped you. Usually, you wait, and we walk together. Did something happen today?” Her words come out in a rush, and it sounds like she just got done running. Shit! It completely escaped my mind to wait for her. Arabella and her posse didn’t really help matters, but now I feel like an asshole.

“Sorry. It escaped my mind.”

“Are you sure?” Hope doesn’t sound convinced. “It’s something. I know it. Is someone following you again? I’ll kick their ass if they are.” At that moment, an image of a five-foot, freckled-faced, Hope, with zero muscle mass and two left feet, appears in my mind. The idea of her kicking anyone’s ass is laughable, but it’s the thought that counts. The real seriousness lies in the fact that someone is following me, always, wherever I go.

“Someone is always following me, you know that.”

“Yeah… I forgot for a hot second, sue me.”

A bubble of laughter passes my lips. Hope is everything I am not, and I think that’s why we’re such good friends. She brings out the best in me, pushing me to do things I wouldn’t do without her.

“It’s fine. Nothing happened. I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you.” I lay the apology on thick.

“You better be.”

“I am. There is no one I would rather walk home with…”

“Right, other than the stalker that is always following you.” She snorts. “When are you going to go to the police, Claire?”

Never. Hope doesn’t know the complete story of how I got here. I’ve told her what I wanted her to know. Still, she’s the only person who knows even a sliver about my past.

The police wouldn’t help me, not when Lucca and whoever he works for have control over this city. I mean, how else did he get away with killing my father? He knows people, and those people are so much bigger and powerful than the police.Belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

I know I might not visibly see Lucca, but he is always there. Watching. Waiting.

“It’s not a big deal. I’m fine, and nothing has happened to me. I’ve told you…”

“Not yet,” she interjects. “Nothing has happened to you yet. You need to tell this guy to get lost.”

Ha, I wish it was that easy.

“Look, everything is fine. I’m not scared, which means you have no reason to be.” The bus turns onto the street where my stop is. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Fine, but we’re going to get rid of this stalker guy,” Hope mutters.

“Sure.” I smile and shake my head.

First, we would have to find Lucca, and that in itself would be a mission.

I pop my earbuds into my ears. The bus pulls to the curb, and I’m out of my seat, heading for the front of the bus before it’s even stopped. Harold, the bus driver, gives me a tight-lipped smile as I descend the stairs. The air is cooler now, and the chill of it smacks me in the face as I step off the bus. Like clockwork, I do the same thing I do every day.

I adjust my earbuds and pretend I’m fiddling with my cell phone in my pocket, trying to find a song even though I’m not listening to music.

Call it what you will, but I hate making people repeat themselves or them thinking I didn’t hear them if they try to talk to me. Plus, I read in a magazine once that people are less likely to talk to you if you have earbuds in.

My adopted parents’ house is only two blocks from here, but the same paranoia I feel every day skates up my spine. You would think since I go through this five days a week that I would be used to being watched and followed, but it seems I’m not.

Glancing over my shoulder, left and then right, I find no one there.

Annoyance nags at the back of my mind. Even after all these years, he has never stopped watching me. There is always someone there, being his eyes and ears. In my mind, he’s never too far away. I should be grateful, and I am. Lucca helped me get into a nice foster home, which helped me get adopted by two of the kindest people I’ve ever met, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten what he did. If it wasn’t for Lucca, I wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with.

No, you’d still be unloved and beaten. Probably starving and near death somewhere.

I shake the thought away. Before that night, I saw Lucca as a white knight, a man who could do no wrong. The memory of him with blood on his hands refuses to leave my mind.

It haunts me day and night, repeating over and over like a nightmare. He was a savage beast who would not stop until there was nothing left of his prey, and I got to see him unravel. So while he might be my protector, I know he’s also capable of terrible things, and for all the good he’s done, there is always some type of bad that counteracts it.

Sadly, I haven’t seen him in six years, and somehow, I can still recall his features.

Those liquid pools of blue that shined like jewels in the light. I imagine he’s even more of a man now, taller and leaner, maybe even fitter with bulging muscles.

Even thinking about him makes my heart race. When I was a little girl, I never would’ve thought of him in such a scandalizing way.

He was like a brother to me, but the more time that’s passed, the more curious I’ve become. It’s probably because of all the romance novels I’ve been reading.

I remind myself of how wrong it is to think of him in any way that doesn’t include hate. A long time ago, I feared him. Now I’m just annoyed and angry. He killed my father, right in front of me, took my entire life, and shook it like it was a snow globe scattering all the broken pieces before I could catch them.

At the end of the day, my father was abusive; he hurt me, but he was still my dad, and I’ve learned over the years that you can’t choose your parents. I watched Lucca beat him to death that night, and there was nothing I could do to forget the absent look that appeared in his eyes. Nothing that would ever make me see him as the white knight again.

He became a different person that night, and I want nothing to do with that man.

The fact he still watches and protects me after all these years is surprising enough, but I don’t understand why. I’m not his problem anymore, so why does it always feel like his eyes are on me even when I can’t see him?