𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐧.
ꙬꙬꙬꙬ
All that Yara Morello was told all her life was that she was the shame of the family. She was a mistake that was never supposed to happen, a disgrace to be shunned and cast...
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A game of chess is a lot like a battlefield. You plan, strategize, and execute. Pieces are moved, removed, and sacrificed by the mastermind for a greater cause. Once you win, you forget about all the pieces you had to sacrifice to achieve victory—all you care about is the sweet taste of victory and the fact that you can finally rub it in your opponent's face.
I was a pretty smart kid growing up, and Papa didn't like that one bit. He didn't like that the most insignificant piece on his board acted out of line. I picked up on things too quickly, and whenever I ran my mouth, I got reacquainted with Papa's horse whip. I quickly learned that pretending to be clueless was a lot safer—out of sight, out of mind, and out of the whip's reach.
I quickly fell into a routine: ignore, dissociate, forget. Basically, my own personal three-step program for surviving Papa.
"Yara?" Jolina shook me firmly. "Hello, Earth to Yara. Anybody home?"
Her face suddenly appeared in my line of sight, and I blinked once, then twice, before my gaze focused on her worried and confused expression.
"What?" I asked, still in a daze.
"I've been calling your name for like fifteen seconds; you zoned the fuck out," she said, tilting her head to inspect me. "You only snapped out of it when I shook you hard."
"Oh." Is all I could say.
I zoned out pretty often. I'd sit and stare into space for a few minutes before snapping back to reality, wondering what I was doing. During these times, it felt like my body had a mind of its own, and I was just a passenger trapped beneath the surface, unable to take the wheel. I mastered the dissociation part a little too hard I think.
We were inside the house, and the shootout had stopped minutes ago, but the tension was thicker than Jolina's mascara. Most of the guests had bolted as soon as they found safety. Guards were still outside, doing safety checks and making sure no more gunmen lurking.
Luca, Emilio, and Papa were out there with the guards, with Emilio barking orders at his men. My hands tingled in remembrance of how his body felt against my palm. The plain of abs sat beneath my hands, and I had to clench my fists to stop myself from running my hand over the hard muscles of his chest. His masculine scent stirred something deep within me, something almost visceral and downright terrifying.
I swallowed hard, not liking whatever the fuck I was feeling.
"Are you sure you don't need to sit down for a moment?" Jolina asked. I blinked again, suddenly reminded that she was still here.
"I'm okay, just a bit startled," I said, rubbing my palms together. I glanced around the room at the people peeking out of the windows, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever was still going on outside.
"You're handling this way better than I did when I first saw guns in action," she said, shaking her head. "I screamed so loud, Luca had to knock me out. He said my voice was louder than the gunshots."
