Heather
A loud bang of what sounds like wood being punched through resonates through the house, and Enzo rushes over to me. I whimper as he rips my hair back, holding me in place as he holds the cold metal of his gun against my temple.
I squeeze my eyes shut in fear but they spring wide open when I hear a familiar voice. "Uncle." Matteo growls. My lip trembles as I lock eyes with him from across the room. His face is a mask of pure anger as he looks back up at Enzo. "Hello, Matteo." Enzo drawls, and my mind reels as I try to make the connection between the two men. Matteo scowls at Enzo and grits out a rapid series of words in Italian. The two men enter a heated exchange that I don't understand a fucking word of, but Enzo stupidly lets go of me to gesture with his hands as he yells at his nephew.
I briefly lock eyes with matteo and mouth "get ready." He doesn't make any visual movement of acknowledgment, but I take the opportunity to use my legs to push off the ground and ram the chair backwards into Enzo's torso, throwing him off balance. The flimsy wooden material of the chair splinters on impact and I'm able to wriggle away and scramble to my feet, though I remain bound. The unmistakable sound of a gun shot rings throughout the room, and time stands still. I feel the impact of something collide with my chest, and I fly backwards into the wall behind me.
The next few minutes are a blur as what seems to be a never ending stream of men with guns pour into the room. I vaguely hear someone calling my name but as I try to move my lips to reply, everything goes black.
I open my eyes to the sound of beeping and mentally curse at the bright lights that feel like knives stabbing into my corneas. "So... bright." I groan and I hear a curse and suddenly the lights dim. I turn my head to the left side of the bed, tracking the movement of a person bustling around the room, drawing the blinds closed. "Matteo?" I croak, and he rushes towards me, dropping into the chair next to the hospital bed. "Heather," He says gruffly, and my eyes rake over his face. His usually trimmed facial hair is overgrown, his perfect complexion is marred by deep dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, and his hair is a tousled, greasy mess. "You look like shit," I tell him, my eyes widening as I register the fact that yes, I actually said that out loud.
He laughs, his eyes crinkling as he reaches out to cup my cheek. "The nurse warned me the pain meds might loosen your tongue." The mention of hospital staff sobers me quickly, and I pull away from his touch. "You have a lot to explain." I inform him sternly. "I do," he agrees. "It's a long story."
YOU ARE READING
Allure
Romance"If you want to discover parts of yourself that you never dreamed of, if you want to feel pleasure and pain dance together in ways you didn't know was possible, if you want to truly let go, I will give it all to you on a silver platter. I will accep...
