Bred In Violence (A Mafia Romance Book One) #𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝟏

Chapter 52

Here is the thing, when you feel alone and afraid. Know that I'm right there with you.
~Raphael~

Sophie

*Unedited*

With my right hand holding tightly onto the seat, I stared at the woman who still held a gun on me. I wanted to grab it, but that would have been stupid and irresponsible, not to mention my hand was feeling numb from the shoulder blade down to my pinkie.

"You never did answer me. What do you want with me?"

The woman lowered the gun, pointing it to my stomach, while still driving with one hand. I felt I had a shot at grabbing it and turning it on her, but she was a pro at doing both simultaneously.

Her mouth twisting in a bitter pout and hatred in her eyes as she shot me a contemptuous look. I didn't understand it at first, but then it dawned on me.

"Are you one of his whore?" I was surprised to ask that, but I was past caring and censoring every word I said.

She stepped on the accelerator a little too much, shooting the car forward almost hitting the car in front of us. I guess she was as surprised by the question as I was.

Turning her eyes to me briefly before moving them to the road, I saw yearning and regret.

"I'm nobody's whore" She hissed without so much as looking at me, but I was glad her eyes were on the road.

"And yet you would have been his had he asked," I taunted. I knew it was childish of me, but she was the one holding a gun on me, the one holding me against my will. I still didn't know what she wanted with me or who she was trading me to; all I knew was I wasn't safe.

"Don't turn your high horse on me bitch; you ain't special."

"I never said I was"

"But you still think you're special because he took you to his house."

"It seems to me you're the one who thinks I'm special. You keep reminding me he has a whore in every city. How can I be special when I'm sharing him with all those women?

The traffic had cleared, and the woman took a turn to the left, driving through a narrow rough road. I thought of the kind of a woman who held someone at gunpoint while driving with her children.

What kind of life would they have?

Would they turn to the life of crime like their mother, or would they curve their own destiny?

I turned my head slightly back to look at them, but then she swiftly moved the gun to my face. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" it was spooky and petrifying how fast she was at detecting my every movement, almost like she was synced to my very breath.

"Nothing, I was just trying to check on your kids," and then she burst out laughing. Uncontrollable laughter mirrored on mockery.

"You must be the dumbest bitch I've ever met," she said, chuckling as she shook her head in amusement. "Those are dressed-up dolls, doofus" she didn't have to call me stupid; I felt stupid.

How could I not see it? To be honest, I should have known the moment she spoke English to me, which should have been my first clue.

I was in Rio. A stranger shouldn't have known my native language.

I had forgotten one of Raphael's rules.

Always pay attention to details. The smallest thing can save you as fast as it can have you killed.