My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 5 Escape (10 page)

“
Do it, just
do it!
I should be killed like the men.”

“
The men
won’t be killed—
for now, I have other plans for them.” I
smiled.

She went
still, fear now darkening her
blue eyes. “They have done nothing to you, so let them
go.”

“
Nothing?
Nothing?!” I spat, angered by her ignorance or lack of care. “I was
stripped naked and almost raped by your uncle! Then I was paraded
in front of other dons to be made a mockery of. I was beaten and
knocked unconscious, told lies so my house could be stolen out from
under me. And if that wasn’t enough, Matteo murdered my father, a
defenseless old man. I will crucify him along with any other male
who touched me and my own.”

She stared at me, looking
completely shocked. Maybe she hadn’t known what had been done to
me: how the
Padre
had pawed my body, how her brothers had hit me over and
over again, laughing as I was humiliated, as my father was shot...
I blinked, realizing all of my memory had returned, everything now
clear, including my brother’s betrayal. I took a step back, seeing
that I was doing to her what had been done to me. I shook my head,
not wanting to think that. I was a don, not a Good Samaritan, my
role clearly written in other people’s blood. I was to bring my
enemies to their knees so that my
famiglia
could rise up higher, making the D’Angelos
a force to be reckoned with.

I
glared down at Camila. “You will
suffer, trust me on that. I will break you until you’re a quivering
mess and no longer yourself, other than a weak bitch who will kiss
my feet. And then I will sell you for a pittance, which is all
you’re worth.” I turned and walked away, yelling at the guards to
take her to my cells. Ignoring the curses she threw at me, I headed
into the next room where the Donatelli men were sitting on the
floor. My face hardened even more, noticing some of them
missing.

“
Where is
the
Padre
and Nino?!” I snapped.

The Santini guard
on my left
straightened. “They were last seen taking Matteo out of the
hospital.”

I swore, this being bad. I
waved my hand up in the air. “Put them in the cells, I will deal
with them later,” because the men were of little consequence, the
weak ones of their
famiglia.

I headed
for the front door, needing to
return home as soon as possible, so I could phone the Black
Russian, something I wasn’t looking forward to.

***

A little over thirty minutes
later, I entered my house after Tomiso had checked the entrance and
adjoining areas. Three Santini men also followed me in, aiming
their guns at different doorways, making sure I wasn’t walking into
a Donatelli ambush, those missing men concerning me.

I yelled out for Alberto,
hoping that he didn’t answer me, because that would mean he’d done
as he’d been told: packed and left. A female voice answered
instead, hollering my name. I turned to Jagger’s slave cells,
recognizing the American voice: it was Rita, the FBI agent, the
person who Bianca and Alberto had told me wasn’t real. But, I had
known all along she was, even when I didn’t have all of my memory.
A sudden burst of fear hit me. Rita had escaped with Jagger, which
meant...

I rushed down
th
e
staircase and grabbed the keys off the wall, opening the cell as
fast as I could. As I entered, Rita took a few steps back. Blood
colored her face and knuckles, with a few streaks also on her naked
body.

“
Where’s
Jagger?”
I said.

“
Alberto took
him.”

I turned and headed out of the
cell, throwing the keys at a Santini guard, telling him to lock her
in. I pushed past another man, who was carrying an unconscious
Camila down the steps, then yelled at two more to follow me as I
sprinted for the main staircase. I took to it two steps at a time,
my heart racing ahead of me, because I knew what Alberto was doing
to Jagger—or had done. In no time I was outside his bedroom, his
door locked. I yelled out to Alberto to open up, then started
kicking at the door, not willing to wait even a second, my need to
save Jagger overtaking me.

I continued to kick
at the door until a
crack sounded, the lock breaking free from its jamb, the door
smashing against the wall. I rushed inside, freezing almost
instantly, what I saw on the bed making me feel sick. Jagger was
splayed across the mattress naked. His wrists were tied to the
headboard while his legs were spread wide and attached to the
bottom of the bed. He was bleeding from the nose and his right ear,
and below... I covered my mouth. The sheet between his legs... The
cum... The blood... I wanted to shout out in rage, to curse and
yell, asking God how my own brother could do such a thing to our
cousin. He was
sangue
—blood, one of our own
.
But I knew how: through me. I was to blame for this. I was
too soft when it came to Alberto, had always been. I had pandered
to his sick whims for far too long, allowing him to think he could
get away with anything, but he couldn’t any longer, and I was the
only one who could stop him.

I yelled at the guards to
find
him,
knowing he’d escaped out the window, which was wide open. The
guards took off out of the room. Instead of following them, I
headed for the bed, pulling my knife from my pocket. I flicked it
open and cut the ties from Jagger’s ankles, the blood staining them
showing how hard he had fought Alberto. I moved up to the headrest
and cut the ties from his bloodied wrists. His arms flopped down,
almost lifeless. Although he was breathing, his expression was
dead, the man broken. I smoothed back his hair, seeing Thierry in
him, the vulnerability inherent within the brothers.

“
Jagger,” I
said, turning his face to me.

He stared right through
me, lost in his own nightmare.

“
I’m sorry,”
I said, “So sorry. I should
have believed you.”

He continued to stare
through me.

“I will do anything for
you now. I am forever in your debt,” I said.

He blinked, a single tear
running down his cheek. “Kill me.”

I shook my head. “You’re not
the one who should die.” I leaned down and kissed his forehead,
then left the room, knowing what I had to do.

Shouts
came from downstairs, my brother’s
voice amongst them. I stopped at the top of the staircase, looking
down at the scene before me, where three men were trying to
restrain a disheveled looking Alberto, their guns useless against
him, since he knew they wouldn’t shoot.

“
Alberto!” I
yelled.

He stopped struggling and
looked up at me, his expression telling me he knew I’d found
Jagger. I descended the staircase, my brother’s eyes not leaving
me, the other men surrounding him forgotten, because they couldn’t
hurt him like I could.

“
You were
meant to leave,”
I said, keeping my voice calm, even though I was
raging inside, both anger and love battling each other, neither
wanting to relent.

He blinked, looking surprised,
probably not understanding why I wasn’t hitting him or yelling at
the top of my lungs. “I didn’t think you would return,” he finally
said.

“
And why is
that?”

“I’d phoned ahead,
pleading with the Donatelli not to hurt you.”

“
You’re a
liar,
because no one was expecting me, I took them by
surprise.”

He went silent for a moment,
then shook his head. “Don’t kill me, Frano, I’m your
brother—
sangue
.”

“
Jagger
is
blood
too, and I told you what would happen if you touched him
again. And you didn’t just touch him, you brutalized
him.”

“
He refused
my love.”

“
How can you
say you love him after what I found up there? The state he was
in...” I breathed out, my voice almost breaking, but I reined it
in, because I had to be strong to get through tonight—and the
coming days.

“
I wouldn’t
have hurt
him if he’d just let me love him,” Alberto said.

“
He will
never do that. Instead, you should’ve left when you had the
chance.”

“
I
couldn’t,
I’d finally got him. And it would be cruel to take that from
me.”

“
You speak of
cruelty?!” I yelled
, finally losing it. “What you did to Jagger is
beyond cruelty!”

“
I know, and
I’m sorry, but he still needs to learn that he can’t keep fighting
me, as his slaves have learned not to fight him.”

“He is NOT a slave! He is
your cousin!”

“No. He is my
lover.”

I
let out a ragged breath, my brother
beyond reasoning with his mind stuck on one thing—or person, his
lust to keep Jagger knowing no limits.

“
What
would you do if you were in my shoes?” I finally said. “How would
you act as the don after finding your cousin tied to a bed, raped,
and beaten?” I asked, wondering whether I could actually kill
Alberto, my closest living relative, someone who I loved more than
myself. But I couldn’t ignore what he’d done, the irreversible
damage he’d caused, and if he stayed alive, Jagger would continue
to suffer—more than he was now.

Alberto frowned.
“If I were you, I’d
allow me to have him.”

“
So, you
would choose Jagger over walking out alive?”

“
You cannot
kill me, we are brothers. Instead, if I were you, I’d accept my
relationship with Jagger and allow me to live with him in
peace.”

“
That doesn’t
answer my question. I want to know if you will walk out of here now
and never come back in exchange for me not killing
you.”

He nodded.

“
Then give me
a hug goodbye, brother,” I said, knowing he was
lying
, but doing the only thing I could.

Alberto
held his arms out wide. I
walked into his hug, wrapping my arms around the big man, who I
loved with all my soul. He hugged me back.

“
I love you,
brother,” I said, tears breaking free. I couldn’t hold it back
anymore, because I knew Alberto was going somewhere I couldn’t
follow. I dropped my right arm, but he continued to hug me, which I
didn’t want to end.

“
I love you
to
o,”
he said.

I squeezed my eyes shut,
and lowered my face to his shoulder, doing the unthinkable,
something I never thought I could do. “I’m sorry,” I
said.

“
Why are
you—” He let out a gasp, his body stiffening against
me.

I wrapped my left arm tighter
around him, not wanting to ever let him go, because I knew when I
did our life together was over.

“Brother,” he groaned.
“No.”

I turned my head and
kissed his cheek. “I will always love you.”

His
body sagged, his weight becoming too
heavy for me to hold onto. I yelled at the men behind Alberto to
take him. His arms dropped from me, the men pulling him away. The
knife came free from his stomach, my right hand still gripping onto
it tightly, my knuckles white from the pressure. Alberto’s blood
dripped off its blade and onto the floor, discoloring the rugs at
our feet. I opened my hand, allowing the knife to fall, his blood
smearing my hand, my tears cutting a path down my face. I didn’t
care that I was crying in front of the men, only that I had killed
my brother.

Alberto
looked down at his stomach, his
hands going to his wound, then he looked back at me, his gaze
disbelieving. Still staring at me, he dropped to his knees, his
eyes tearing me apart, the betrayal I saw in them unforgivable. I
was going to Hell, no, I was already there.

He bent his head, a sob coming
from deep within him, then he collapsed onto the floor. I dropped
down in front of him, and blanketed his body with my own. I let out
a wail, the pain coming from deep inside of me, the sound of my
soul shattering.

I was my father now

A murderer of
famiglia

Which I would pay
for

M
y nightmare only just beginning

Episode 6 Coming
Soon

About the Author

Marita
A. Hansen
is from New Zealand. She loves
writing, creating art, watching and participating in football, and
running. She ran her first marathon in 2012 and is now planning on
completing many more. For more information on Marita check out
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