[POV: Venezia Casadei]
"You really are something, huh," Auden said strolling over to me, a dangerous glint in his eye. The look on his face was one of hunger. I'd seen it before on the bloodthirsty faces of Made Men just before they'd shot someone i...
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Only four days had passed since arriving in King's Point but already I was missing my life of freedom.
I was free here, that much was sure, but I could hardly call it that. My every step was accompanied by an ill-tempered shadow, a penumbra whose hands wrapped around my wrists like a steel shackle, rough and impenetrable against tanned skin. They belonged to the silhouette of a man whose name sent fear down the spine of his enemies, yet one of unforgettable naïveté down mine.
Auden Porta. A man known for his ruthless methods and expired lenience.
His dislike for being stationed as my 'guard' was as palpable as braille, embossed paper that spelled out a tactile genre of his aversion. It rubbed at my fingertips as if begging to be read, while he followed me around as I carried out mundane tasks to pass the time. But the feeling was mutual.
I wasn't a child. I'd survived without someone always being in my business, for years. Yes, I was open to the idea of a guard, but I didn't expect constant hovering and insistence on checking every room I walked into. It was driving me towards the brink of insanity. What was the worst thing that could happen anyway? There were about ten armed soldiers on the property.
More importantly, Auden's presence only served in making me recall exactly how and where he'd found me. That thought alone was embarrassing enough to make me want to bury my head in the sand. I was only held from doing so by my damn pride. If anything, it was making sure I saw the challenge to the end— even if I'd complete it hanging on to the last shreds of my dignity.
Though his distaste followed me around like a hound after blood, I kept my head held high with an agreeable smile on my face in an attempt to kill him with kindness. It seemed to only aggravate him more, especially when coupled with the passing jokes I'd tell him when we were alone to lighten the mood.
But I would get through to him, I knew I could. He just needed to be broken into like a pignatta. As Papà always said: Principessa, you have the stubbornness of una mula.
A mule, what Papà likened me to. He called his only daughter a princess and a mule in the same breath and I'd be angry if he wasn't so accurate. It was my stubbornness that had been keeping me from crumbling under every humiliating encounter I've had thus far.
I was counting on the spirit to get me through each run-in with Auden.
Half the day had passed but there'd been no word from my cranky shadow. Usually, he was knocking on my door at the butt crack of dawn to make sure I hadn't been murdered in my sleep. I swore to myself that if he kept it up, I'd pull an uno reverse and end him myself, but I guess the universe heard my pleas and took care of that for me this morning.
Sitting in one of the fourteen bedrooms of Papà's house, I glanced around the one that had been mine growing up. Aside from the mountain-high pile of boxes that the soldiers had brought over from my place in New Jersey, my childhood room had remained mostly untouched after I left.
