9. Alexis

9

Something snaps within me at Damian's smug expression. I've fucking had it with everyone. For the last God knows how many hours, I've been locked in a basement, escaped, nearly taken by gunpoint, rescued by a Mafia Don, imprisoned by a Mafia Don, tried to escape twice, and still ended up stuck in the same goddamn place.

I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't ask for the Carters and Mark to sell me like I'm a fucking piece of property, and I certainly did not ask to be trapped in a Mafia Boss's house, unable to leave because someone says so. What about my agency? I have the right to come and go as I please, dammit!

"How did you know I was trying to leave?"

Damian laughs, petting the dog's long body. "This is my house. Not much happens here without my knowledge."

"Why can't you just let me leave?" I snap, folding my arms tightly across my body.

He cocks his head to the side. "Oh, I'm sorry, Alexis. Is my home not comfortable for you?"

I don't appreciate his mocking tone and I scowl. "Why won't you just let me go home?" I ask again, my hands curling into fists. "I don't want to be anyone's prisoner. I just want to be left alone."

Damian laughs again. "What home, Alexis? From my understanding, once you escaped from that basement, that house stopped being your home. Your foster family and boyfriend are pretty pissed at you and are currently trying to hunt you down. You have a dangerous Mafia also searching for you. You and I both know the moment you step foot in that house, you'll be carted off to The Brotherhood and never seen again. I can't allow that."

He stops scratching Biscotti's head, his face turning unnaturally serious. "Unless you do want to be sold as a sex slave. Then, by all means, I'll happily send you back and get my cut."

Time seems to freeze at his words and my chest constricts painfully. "Y–You're in on this, too?" I whisper, horrified. Every instinct in me is screaming to run, but my captor—Edo—stands behind me. I'll never make it past him.

Damian rolls his eyes. "Are you not listening to a word I'm saying? I've been tasked with finding you and delivering you alive to The Brotherhood. This was all agreed to after we rescued you from Invicta when I had no idea who the fuck you were. If I was really in on this, I would have dumped you at Mario Rafa's feet already."

I can breathe again, and I exhale, my body shuddering as I come down from a near panic attack. For one horrible moment, I thought Damian was going to betray me.

Is betraying even the right word considering we aren't even allies? I'm his prisoner.

"Do you want to go back to your foster family?" Damian asks me, his gaze never leaving mine. "Say the word and it'll happen. You'll be stupid as fuck for doing so, but you do have a choice in this matter."

The thought of going back to the Carter house and being whisked away to my worst nightmare makes me shiver, and I rub my arms, goosebumps erupting all over my flesh. "No," I admit in a small voice. "No, I don't want to go back."

"That's probably the smartest decision you've made all day," Damian remarks, ignoring the flash of anger that crosses my face. Did he seriously just call me stupid?

"Then let me disappear," I blurt out, desperate to just get away from him. Although I hate being a prisoner, I'm finding that being in the same room as him is like touching a live wire.

Damian raises an eyebrow, an amused smile playing at his lips. "No offense," he says, when it's clear he does mean offense, "but you're not the disappearing type."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you have the street smarts of a fucking infant. You wouldn't even last a few days out there before you'd make a fucking stupid move, be captured, and never seen again." He shrugs, ignoring my squawk of outrage. "So, as you can see, the safest place for you is right here at my house."

He smirks. "You could at least say you're welcome," he taunts, looking smug.

I see right through Damian's barb. He's offering me a lifeline, a chance to survive, maybe even thrive if I play my cards right. All I have to do is keep my head down, do as I'm told, and stay out of sight. It's what I'm used to with the Carters. But I'm finding myself to be repulsed by my own meekness and timidity.

Nat's words run through my head. "You're a wolf in sheep's clothing, Alexis. Fucking embrace it."

I think about Mark and Emma laughing as I shrank back from whatever biting retort they threw at me. Or how Dennis and Suzanne treated me as little more than a skittish rabbit, useful for my skills but otherwise dismissible.

No, a small voice inside me whispers. You don't have to be a victim anymore. You can be something great. Start acting like it.

Nat said my ability to survive rests on whether I would be an asset or a liability, and I choose to be an asset.

Suddenly, it feels like fifty pounds have been released from me. Although I'm scared of The Brotherhood finding me, I know I have to do whatever I can to ensure my safety. I can't just rely on Damian, Nat, and Edo.

Something like approval flashes in Damian's eyes. Was he seeing my internal struggle playing out all over my face? Does he realize what I've decided?

"What?" Nat snaps, jerking me out of my introspection. Her cheeks are pink as she jumps out of her chair. "You've got to be fucking kidding me, Damy."

He raises an eyebrow. "I never kid, Natalia."

"Damian, be serious. While I agree Alexis should not be turned over to The Brotherhood, you're putting us in grave danger by allowing her to stay here. For fuck's sake, we already have Invicta on our asses and they nearly killed you today!"

"They barely grazed me!" Damian says loudly, but an irate Nat plows on.

"The last thing we fucking need is The Brotherhood to sniff out that Alexis is here, especially when our relationship with them is tenuous at best! Do we really want Invicta and The Brotherhood to ally for the sole purpose of destroying us?"

At first, I feel a pang of hurt and rejection at Nat's words. She's just another person who finds me a burden and unwanted. But, at the same time, I also recognize that Nat is speaking out of fear and protectiveness over her family.

If I had a family, I probably would do the same thing, so I don't take offense to her harshness.

"Then what should we do with her?" Damian asks.

"Send her far away," Nat retorts before rounding on me. "Where do you want to go, Alexis? We have more money than God and we can get you fake papers to go anywhere you want. Italy? Greece? Spain? You name it, we can send you there."

Her offer is tempting, and I have no doubt that with the right amount of money, I could disappear and never be seen again. But then I would spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"She's not going anywhere," Damian says flatly. "And my decision is final, Nat. Wouldn't you have wanted someone to do the same for Alessandra?"

The temperature in the room immediately drops by a few degrees, and even though I have no clue who Alessandra is, I can tell Damian's words hit their intended mark. Nat's face turns white before growing rosy with anger, the veins in her neck protruding. She takes one menacing step toward Damian, and for a second, I'm afraid she's going to strike him.

"Fuck you, Damian," Nat snarls before she whirls around, pushing past me and Edo. She slams the door so hard, the pictures on the walls shake and Biscotti growls.

Edo sighs, glancing at Damian with an exasperated look. "Low blow, bro," he mutters before following Nat.

Leaving Damian and me alone.

"Alexis," Damian says, his voice a low rumble that sends tingles down my spine. "Come here."

He pats the empty space beside him on the bed, and I feel my mouth grow dry. I barely know him, and he's asking me to join him in bed. I don't care if we are both fully clothed and he's injured. It just seems so intimate.

But how can I refuse him when he's looking at me with those intense, dark eyes?

Swallowing hard, I cross the room, acutely aware of every step on the plush carpet. As I near the bed, my gaze traces the hard lines of his body beneath the thin sheets. I silently berate myself for letting my thoughts wander in that direction. The man is injured, for God's sake!

"How are you feeling?" I ask, proud I'm able to keep my voice steady as I perch on the edge of the bed.

"I'm fine," he says. "Shallow wounds bleed like a motherfucker, but they aren't dangerous so long as they don't get infected. This isn't the first time I've been shot at, and it won't be the last." He looks thoughtful for a moment. "Although this is the first time I've ever had someone bungle a shot so badly. Maybe I should hire Nat out to be a sharpshooting teacher."

"Nat can fire a gun?" I blurt out, immediately regretting it the moment the words leave my lips. She's a damn underboss for a Mafia family. Of course she is a skilled marksman.

But Damian doesn't find it an offensive question. "My best shooter," he says. "She's always been better at it than me, although I'll deny it to my dying day."

I wince at his poor excuse of a joke. Shallow wound or not, he was in grave danger today.

"Who is Alessandra?" I ask, thinking about the look on Nat's face. Underneath all the anger lay devastation. Whoever Alessandra was, she had meant a great deal to Nat.

He ignores my question. Instead, he reaches his hand out, fingers brushing my arm, leaving a trail of electric tingles in their wake. My breath catches in my throat as he wraps one of my curls around his fingers.

"So soft," he murmurs, running his fingers through the bottom of my long hair. My heart pounds, and my insides turn to liquid as he plays with my curls. "You have the most beautiful hair."

I'm incapable of speaking, watching with wide eyes as Damian coils a curl around his finger, the brown strands gleaming in the lamp's light. It's getting harder to ignore my throbbing core, and I try to adjust myself, crossing my ankles.

"It's a pity we're going to have to cut and dye it." Damian sighs, looking disappointed.

"What?" I gasp, feeling like I just got doused with cold water.

He furrows his brows. "The Brotherhood knows what you look like, Alexis. Of course we're going to have to alter your appearance. The goal is to hide you in plain sight."

"B–But…" I clutch my hair. It may sound stupid, but my long, thick, curly hair has been my pride and joy. People would stop me all the time to remark on my ringlets. It's the one thing Emma was jealous of as she had pin straight hair that couldn't hold a curl.

It's almost like my security blanket. I'll feel naked without it.

"Do you want to get caught or not?" Damian asks me. "This is the only way, Alexis."

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I mumble, staring at the box of hair dye on the bathroom counter. I've never dyed my hair before as I've always liked the chestnut brown color I was born with.

"Don't chicken out now," came Damian's voice from the doorway. He leans against the doorway, wearing a pair of black joggers and a gray T-shirt. His white bandages peek out from underneath the shirt collar. "This is for the best. Besides, don't all girls want to cut and dye their hair? Isn't it cathartic or some shit?"

I feel my cheeks flush as I meet his gaze in the mirror. "Maybe for some girls, but not for me. I've always liked my hair."

"It'll still be your hair," he points out. "Just a different color and length."

God, men are clueless.

My hands shake as I tear open the box, ripping the smiling black-haired model's face in half. I take a deep breath before looking back at Damian. "Are you going to help me?"

There's a predatory gleam in his eyes as he pushes away from the door, chuckling. The sound sends a shiver down my spine. "As you wish."

He steps up behind me, his warm presence surrounding me as he deftly plucks the bottle of dye from my trembling fingers. My breath catches in my throat as his fingers graze my own.

"Turn around," he murmurs, already working the applicator brush through the thick black cream.

I obey, my heart thundering as Damian carefully brushes the first streak of color through my brown hair. His other hand cradles the back of my head, holding me in place as he methodically paints my hair with broad, confident strokes.

The dye is cool against my scalp, but I barely notice. My entire body is burning up from Damian's proximity. His sandalwood cologne clouds my senses, surrounding me until all I can focus on is the scorching path of his hand as it brushes against my neck, my shoulders, the sloping curve of my collarbone…

A soft moan escapes from my lips before I can stop it. Damian freezes, his heavy-lidded gaze locking with mine in the mirror. The corner of his mouth twitches up in a smirk.

"You okay there?" he murmurs, his voice a deep, liquid velvet.

I manage a shaky nod, feeling like I'm ready to faint. Damian's smirk deepens for a moment before he continues painting strokes of black dye through my hair.

"You know your way around a dye brush," I say breathlessly.

"I've helped Nat dye her hair a fair few times," he says, his voice still low and gravelly.

By the time he finishes, I'm seconds away from combusting. Damian pulls his hands away with reluctance, his scorching stare roving over my newly dyed hair.

"That's better." He winks at me. "Now, follow me. Nat's hairdresser is here."

In a daze, I follow Damian out and sit in a salon chair. I'm soon introduced to Richard, who promises to give me the best haircut of my life.

Snip. Snip. Snip.

The sound of the scissors slicing through my long hair is both terrifying and exciting. I grip the sides of the salon chair, watching thick strands of hair fall away in the mirror's reflection.

For years, my hair has been a security blanket. Countless hours have been spent carefully tending to my hair, styling it into elegant twists for fancy events. My hair is a part of my identity, or so I thought.

But as I watch Richard's deft hands shear away the remnants of my past life, I feel something shifting in me. With each snip of the scissors, a weight is lifted from my shoulders.

The shadow of my former life—the scared, meek girl who allowed everyone to speak for me—begins to dissipate.

My reflection in the mirror slowly changes until a stranger stares back at me. This woman has a bouncy, shoulder-length bob that frames her face in feathery wisps at her jaw. Her hazel eyes, no longer hidden behind thick curtains of hair, sparkle with reinvention.

A farewell tear slips down my cheek as my fingers toy with my new, shoulder-length style. Remnants of who I used to be flutter to the floor, scattered at my feet.

"Ta-da!" Richard sings, spinning the chair to face the mirror head-on. "What do you think?"

Damian and Nat's faces appear in the mirror along with mine.

"Wow," Nat remarks to Damian. "With this new look, Alexis bears a striking resemblance to our cousin, Maria."

My lips curve into a slow smile as I stare at my appearance. I was really hesitant when Damian insisted I needed to cut my hair, but I'm seeing that this was an excellent idea.

"I love it," I whisper, touching my black, shoulder-length curls. This was more than just a haircut. It was cutting ties with my past so I can brave the great unknown of my future.