Chapter 4: Two Sides Of Nerdy Liam

Katarina POV - Inside the Bookstore

"Kat, you've been staring at that same page for twenty minutes."

Selena's voice barely registered. I was lost somewhere else. The bookstore was quiet.

Madame had left hours ago, leaving just me and Selena to close up for the night.

I sat behind the counter with a book open in my lap—one of those dark, filthy romance novels we kept hidden in the back section. The kind with a half-naked man on the cover that would get us fired if Madame caught us reading them.

But I needed the distraction.

After this morning—the red car, those tattooed men who knew my name—I needed to forget. Even if just for a moment.

The book was still in my lap. The same filthy page with the same aching feeling between my legs.

"He slammed into her, stretching her wide as she moaned his name. Her hands clawed the desk, her body shaking as his cock drove deeper, deeper…"

I read the sentence again. And again.

Not because it was new. But because it made my body forget everything else.

My eyes burned down the page. My thighs clenched, pressing together under the counter stool. I shifted, my knee bumping the wooden shelf as I inhaled sharply.

God.

This one was filthier than the last. Exactly what I needed.

My panties were already damp, the soft cotton sticking to me with every twitch, teasing me. I shouldn't be reading this here. I really shouldn't.

But I couldn't stop.

Every line made my heart beat faster. Not because of the words. But because of who I kept imagining.

Him.

Not the fake fantasy man in the book.

The Don.

His cold green eyes. His full mouth. The way his hand gripped my tits like he owned them. The way he didn't ask before taking—he just knew.

I bit my lower lip, hard. My nipples ached against the inside of my bra. It was shameful, disgusting, the way my body reacted just thinking about him.

I'd never been touched like that. Never kissed like that..

I shifted again on the stool, the seam of my jeans pressing deliciously where I needed it most. I squeezed my thighs together tighter.

What would he feel like inside me? Would he be rough? Would he tie me down? Would he hold my wrists while he slammed into me over and over until I screamed his name?

A little moan slipped out before I could catch it. My palm slid down, slow and shaky, hovering just over the button of my jeans. One little touch. One little press. I could already feel how wet I was. For him.

I bit down on my fist, heartbeat hammering—

"Kat?"

My head jerked up.

Shit.

Liam stood in the doorway. He was one of our regular customers—came in every week for manga and graphic novels. Usually shy and awkward, always polite.

I scrambled to shut the book and shove it beneath the register, praying he hadn't noticed the way my cheeks were flushed or how I was practically squirming on the stool.

"Hey," I said hoping my voice didn't sound breathless. "You, uh, need something?"

He gave a little crooked smile.

His hair was messy as always, but his clothes were different. Neater. Like he'd changed who he was today.

"Hi, Katarina." He stepped forward, his hand twitching slightly before disappearing into his jacket pocket. "You... looked focused."

"You were really into that," he said softly, his voice lower than usual.

"I—just reading inventory stuff," I lied.

"I saw the cover. That wasn't inventory."

My heart fluttered with embarrassment, but something in his tone made it stutter with fear too. He stepped forward, slowly and stared not at my face but at my throat or maybe my shoulders.

"You smell different today," he said, voice was strangely low.

My stomach felt weird…why was messy Liam acting strange?.

"I—um—showered?" I offered, forcing a little laugh.

He tilted his head. "No. It's not soap." He stepped closer, and I instinctively gripped the counter between us. "It's... Arousal... And sweet."

"Liam, are you okay?"

He blinked. Then he smiled suddenly, like a light switch being flipped. "Yeah! Totally. I'm fine." His voice was pitched up now, lighter, nerdier. Like the Liam I knew.

But i felt something was wrong in my gut. The way his posture dropped an inch and his lips twitching every secound.

He placed a graphic novel on the counter. "They added volume six," he said in that easy tone again, "I thought of you when I saw it."

I scanned it slowly. "Thanks," I said. "That's sweet."

He leaned forward. "Do you want to hang out later? I could—cook."

Cook?

I swallowed. "I'm staying at Selena's tonight."

"Right. Right." He nodded too fast. "Sleepover. Girls. Secrets. Lying."

My breath caught. "What?"

His eye twitched again and his smile left his face. "You don't have to be scared of me," he said quietly. "But... we don't like when you think about other men."

I froze.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Liam?" I whispered. "Who's we..Did you do drugs or something?"

"Nothing…I’m sorry...Just kidding." back into that nerdy tone again.

He pulled a folded paper from his back pocket and set it down. "This is for you."

I stared at it.

"What is it?"

His voice had dropped calmer now. "You don't have to be scared of me."

I didn't say anything. I just watched him back away, turn, and walk out the door.

I waited three whole minutes before I reached for the paper.

It was folded perfectly with crisp edges, like someone had measured them. I opened it slowly.

In neat handwriting, it read:

"Don't let the other one see this. I'll keep you safe. But I can't hold him back forever." —L

I stared at it.

Other one? Who the hell was "other one"?

I turned the paper over. On the back, in completely different handwriting—messier, more aggressive:

"He's lying. I'm the one protecting you." —Also L

Two messages. Two different handwriting styles. Both signed L.

Something was very wrong with Liam.

I slid the note into my bra and glanced toward the front window. Liam was standing outside on the sidewalk hitting his haed with his hands.

A chill ran down my spine

The store was quiet again. I looked around and the light outside was fading. It was getting dark. Selena was already packing up, organizing her things to leave for the evening.

I checked the time—5:30 p.m.

I was supposed to text Mateo my older brother so he wouldn't worry. I hadn't even told him I was staying at Selena's tonight.

When I finally checked my phone, I saw multiple missed calls from him.

I started panicking immediately Mateo never called this much. Why didn't I notice earlier? Why didn't I pick up?

I dialed his number, but it went straight to voicemail.

This was strange. Mateo was always in touch, especially in a city like this where dangerous gangs operated in broad daylight.

I quickly sent him a text, then stared at my phone screen, waiting for a reply that never came. I could feel the unease building in my stomach.

I looked at Selena, who was already at the door, her bag flung over her shoulder.

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice low. She'd picked up on the change in my mood.

I shook my head. "I'm not sure. But it's weird. Mateo's not answering."

I stared down at my phone, waiting for a reply that never came.

Then I saw the last message he'd sent:

Mateo: If he shows up, don't let him in.

My blood went cold.

Chapter 5: Wet Dreams

Katarina POV - Still at the Bookstore

"We need to leave. Now."

Selena grabbed her bag, but I was frozen, staring at my phone. Mateo's last message glowed on the screen:

Mateo: If he shows up, don't let him in.

"Kat!" Selena shook my arm. "Did you hear me? We need to go."

"Who is he talking about?" I whispered. "If who shows up?"

"I don't know, but we're not staying here to find out." She pulled me toward the back room. "Come on. We'll lock up and go out the back door."

I glanced at the front window one more time. The red car was back again, parked across the street…

My stomach dropped.

"Selena... the car from this morning. It's back."

She looked, and her face went pale. "Shit. Okay, back door. Right now."

We rushed through the storage room. I grabbed my jacket and bag while Selena fumbled with the keys, locking the register and turning off lights.

"You're staying with me until we figure this out." She grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the back exit. "Come on."

At Selena's Apartment - That Night

Selena's apartment was small but warm. Safe. Her cat, Miso, immediately curled up on my lap when I sat on the couch.

But I couldn't relax.

Every creak, every car passing outside made my heart jump.

"Here." Selena handed me tea. "Chamomile. It'll help you sleep."

I took it but didn't drink. My eyes kept drifting to the window, to the street below.

Was the red car out there? Watching?

"Kat, talk to me." Selena sat beside me. "What's going on in your head? "

I shook my head. "I don't know. I’m Just confused …I wish i spoke with mateo"

"Have you tried calling Mateo again?"

I checked my phone. Still nothing.

I dialed. Voicemail.

Me: Mateo, please call me back. I'm scared. What's happening?

Delivered. Read.

No response.

"He's ignoring me," I whispered.

Selena squeezed my hand. "Maybe his phone died. Or maybe he's in trouble too."

That thought made it worse.

"Try to get some rest," she said gently. "I'll stay up and keep watch, okay?"

I nodded, but I knew I wouldn't sleep.

I moved to her guest bedroom, crawling under the covers fully clothed. My phone stayed clutched in my hand, waiting for Mateo to call back.

But he didn't.

Around midnight, I heard it.

Knock. Knock.

I froze, heart hammering.

Selena's footsteps in the hallway. Her voice, low and cautious. "Who is it?"

Silence.

Then another knock. Louder this time.

I crept to the bedroom door, pressing my ear against it.

"I said who is it?" Selena's voice was sharper now.

And then I heard it. A voice from the other side of the door—low, smooth, dangerous.

"Open the door, piccola. You ran last time. Now I want you to crawl."

My blood turned to ice.

That voice.

The Don.

He'd found me.

"Selena, don't open it!" I screamed, rushing into the hallway.

She stepped back from the door, eyes wide. "Who the hell is that?"

"The man from the club. The one who..." I couldn't finish the sentence.

The door handle rattled.

"I know you're in there, Katarina," his voice purred through the wood.Selena grabbed her phone. "I'm calling the police."

"Don't." My voice came out barely a whisper. "He's... he's mafia. The police won't help."

The rattling stopped.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then his voice again, softer this time. Almost intimate.

"I'll be back for you, piccola. And next time, you won't have a door to hide behind."

Footsteps retreated down the hallway.

I collapsed against the wall, shaking.

Selena was already at the window, peeking through the curtains. "There's a car leaving. Red.The fancy one we saw outside the bookstore."

He'd found me.

And he'd be back.

That Night - The Dream

I didn't think I'd sleep. But exhaustion pulled me under like a riptide.

And then I was somewhere else.

A marble hallway. White floors. Endless mirrors reflecting my naked body from every angle. No exits. The air smelled like blood and roses.

My reflection stared back at me—flushed cheeks, bruised lips, thighs slick with arousal I couldn't explain.

I was trembling, but not from fear.

From want.

Then he stepped from the shadows.

The Don.

His shirt was half-open, revealing a chest carved from muscle and danger. His belt hung in his hand like a promise. Those emerald eyes pinned me in place, and I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

"I told you," he said, voice rough like broken stone. "Run, and I'll break you."

I didn't run.

He was on me in two strides, pressing me hard against the mirrored wall. One hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back. The other wrapped around my throat—not enough to hurt, just enough to control.

"You liked kneeling for me, didn't you?"

I wanted to lie. Wanted to say no.

But my body betrayed me. My lips parted. My legs trembled.

"Yes," I whispered.

He smiled—cruel and gorgeous.

Then he shoved me down to my knees.

"Show me how much."

I opened my mouth without hesitation, tongue out like I was starved. His cock was already hard, heavy, flushed dark at the tip. I took him deep, swallowing around him, tears slipping from my eyes as he hit the back of my throat.

"That's it," he groaned, fingers tightening in my hair. "My filthy girl. My obedient little mouth."

I sucked harder, faster, desperate to please him. He dragged me up before I could finish, spinning me around and bending me over a glass table that hadn't been there seconds ago.

My reflection stared up at me—eyes wide, lips swollen, need dripping down my thighs.

"You're wet for me," he said, dragging two fingers through my folds. "Disgusting."

I whimpered.

He didn't give me time to breathe.

He thrust inside me in one brutal stroke—no warning, no mercy—and I shattered.

"This is mine now," he growled, pounding into me. "Your body. Your mouth. Your screams. All mine."

His hand clamped over my mouth as I came, crying against the glass, legs buckling beneath him.

"You love being used," he snarled. "Say it."

"I love it," I gasped. "I love it. I love you."

He didn't stop.

He fucked me harder, dragging orgasm after orgasm from my trembling body until I couldn't tell if I was begging for more or for mercy.

And then he kissed my shoulder.

"Next time, piccola... I'll leave marks they can't hide."

I came with a sob, body convulsing.

I jolted awake, drenched in sweat, my thighs sticky, my heart racing.

I clutched the blanket, burying my face in it as shame flooded me.

What is wrong with me?

I was wet. Aching. And I could still feel his breath on my skin.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream.

But I couldn't forget the way it felt.

I covered my mouth with both hands, terrified the moan still caught in my throat would escape and wake Selena.

The Next Morning - Back at My Apartment

"I just need to grab some clothes," I told Selena the next morning before leaving her house.

I didn't want her to see the mess that was my family.

The second I put my key in the lock of my apartment, I knew something was wrong.

The handle was loose. The lock, scratched and damaged like someone had forced it.

I pushed the door open slowly.

The lights were off, but I could smell it immediately—cheap cologne and stale whiskey.

And then I saw him.

On the couch.

My father.

Passed out, mouth hanging open, arms spread like he owned the place again.

No.

No, no, no.

He'd been gone for three years. Why was he back?

My stomach twisted. I clutched my phone, checking for messages from Mateo.

Still nothing.

Me: He's here. Why didn't you warn me?

I started backing toward the door, my eyes never leaving the man who'd made my childhood a nightmare.

And then his eyes opened.He'd been awake the whole time.

"Where the fuck you think you been, girl?"

My throat went dry. I couldn't move.

"I asked you a question," he slurred, rising slowly to his feet. "You think you can run off and come back whenever you like?"

His voice was lower now. That meant something bad was coming.

"I... I just needed clothes," I stammered. "I wasn't... I didn't mean"

He stepped toward me.

My back hit the door.

"You got no say in anything anymore," he said darkly. "Not after what I did for this family."

My voice shook. "What did you do?"

He smiled.

Reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded paper, tossing it onto the coffee table.

A contract. My name printed at the top. His signature at the bottom. A seal burned into the corner—some kind of symbol I didn't recognize.

"I sold you, Katarina," he said simply. "You're leaving. Tonight."

The room tilted.

"What?"

"You heard me." He lit a cigarette, exhaling smoke in my face. "Giordano's men are coming to pick you up at eight. Pack something nice. He likes his girls pretty."

I stood there, frozen, as my world collapsed around me.

Chapter 6: They Came With Guns

Katarina's POV

“You can’t sell me like I’m one of your broken bottles,” I spat.

My father's eyes burned into me, his resentment thick and ugly. His mouth twisted not in anger, but in happiness.

"Get ready, Katarina," he said, his voice icy. "The Giordano Cartel will be here for you. Don't make me wait."

I froze. The chill wasn't just fear..it was the disbelief

I was being sold as a piece of property. A whore.

The dream from the night before still clung to me. I could feel the Don's voice on my skin, the echo of his belt dragging across tile, the sting of his teeth on my shoulder.

I had woken up dripping, ashamed, aroused and now this?

This couldn't be real. I was being sold to the Cartel. To a man I didn't even know. The anger inside me flared up, ready to burst, but I swallowed it. Fighting wouldn't be worth it. Not when challenging the rules meant I could lose my life.

"You'll regret this," I said quietly.

He laughed. "No, darling. You will."

His words stung, and his tone was final. He meant it. This was happening whether I wanted it or not. But that didn't mean I had to make it easy for them.

I turned stiffly and walked to my room. My fingers shook as I grabbed a bag.

From the living room, my mother's voice drifted in—slurred, barely coherent. She was slumped on the couch, eyes closed, lost in whatever drug had destroyed her mind years ago.

"Make sure you get my cut," she mumbled, not even bothering to open her eyes.

I wanted to throw up.

Not because she said it but because she meant it.

I didn't respond. The thought of being sold like some kind of commodity made bile rise in my throat. But she didn't care. It was always about the money, the high, the next fix.

I grabbed a small bag from my closet, trying to keep my composure, but the panic was rising. I could hear loud voices outside now and becoming impatient. The sound of motorcycle engines revving.

They were here.

I turned to leave my room, and Mateo was standing in the doorway. His face was drawn, a mix of concern and fury blazing in his eyes.

"No," he said, his voice low and forceful. "You're not leaving. I won't let this happen."

I wanted to cry and beg him to stop our father, to fight for me. But I knew it wouldn't change anything. The Cartel was already here. They would take me whether he liked it or not.

My throat closed up. "Mateo, please don't make this worse."

He didn't budge. "I should've killed him the day he hit you. I should've—"

Heavy Knock!. Knock!!. Knock!!!.

The sound of fists pounding on the door cut him off abruptly.

It was them.

I could hear my father's voice, quick and muffled, as he opened the door and spoke to the men on the other side. My stomach turned. This was it. There was no way out now.

But I wasn't going down without a fight.

"Mateo," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Distract them. Please."

His jaw clenched. He didn't want to agree. But he saw the fear in my eyes, the desperation.

"If I don't make it out..." he said, voice tight. "Run far. Don't look back."

"Get to your window," he added, his voice suddenly sharp. "I'll buy you time."

I nodded and slipped back into my room, heart pounding.

I yanked the curtains open and shoved the window up. My breath caught in my throat as I looked down. Two black motorcycles idled at the curb below. One man leaned against the building, arms crossed tattooed neck, shaved head …the thugs from yesterday... The other stood beside him swinging a knife.

Before climbing out, I grabbed a butter knife from my dresser and shoved it into the waistband of my shorts. Useless, probably but it made me feel less helpless.

Then..

CRASH.

A loud grunt from the living room.

"Stay the fuck away from my sister!" Mateo's voice, full of fury.

I didn't wait.

I climbed out the window, gripping the ledge, and dropped down into the alley below. I landed hard scraping my palms, my knees stinging but I was free.

For now.

I ran barefoot and didn’t look back

Every footstep echoed louder than the last. Every shadow felt like hands reaching for me. My heart pounded so hard it hurt, my chest aching with every breath.

Behind me, I could still hear them..heavy footsteps, someone yelling in Italian, furniture scraping.

I had seconds. Not minutes. Seconds.

I rounded the corner to the alley and collided straight into someone.

His Strong arms caught me before I could fall.

"Kat?"

I blinked up through tears.

Liam…. His eyes scanned me sweaty, scratched and wild-eyed

"What happened? Are you hurt?"

I couldn't form words. I just nodded, tears streaming down my face. "Please. They're after me. I can't.."

"Come with me." His voice sounded protective. He wrapped his arm around me and led me quickly through side streets, moving with a confidence I'd never seen in him before.

He didn't ask any questions. He just moved.

At Liam's Apartment

His place was... not what I expected.

Liam…quiet, comic-reading Liam…lived in subtle wealth. The apartment was clean, organized and expensive.

It wasn't the mess of pizza boxes and game controllers I'd imagined.

Bookshelves lined the walls, everything alphabetized. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and gun oil? A security panel blinked quietly on the wall by the door.

Everything was too neat.

"You live here?" I asked, dazed.

He glanced at me. "Yeah. It's safer than most places. Come on."

He led me to a small guest room and gestured for me to sit on the bed. Then he disappeared into the bathroom.

I looked around, unease creeping up my spine.

Something felt... off.

He returned with a bowl of warm water and a towel, kneeling gently at my feet.

"You're bleeding," he said softly.

He touched the edge of my ankle and I flinched.

"Ouch," I hissed.

"Sorry," he murmured. "I have to clean them. You've got cuts everywhere."

He washed my feet with gentle hands, so steady. He bandaged me with ease

I watched his face as he worked. There was something different about him. His eyes looked darker. His voice was smoother. Even his accent seemed... off.

I'd always known Liam was a little weird. But now, I wasn't sure if he was weird...

Or dangerous.

"Stay here, Kat," Liam said, standing. "I'll make sure you're safe. Get some rest."

I nodded, too exhausted to argue.

He left, closing the door softly behind him.

I sank onto the bed, my mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion.

But one thing was clear—I was no longer in control of my life. The Giordano Cartel was after me. My father had sold me. And now I was caught in something bigger than myself.

But I would not be a victim. Not anymore.

As I lay there in the dark, I began to notice small things about Liam's apartment that didn't make sense. The faint hum of what seemed like a security network. The polished look of the bookshelves and expensive gadgets, all meticulously organized.

His usual nerdy awkwardness had slipped away, replaced by a different him.

The most unsettling detail?

He'd found me too fast in that alley. Like he knew where I'd be.

And he never asked why I was running. Never asked who was chasing me.

A whisper crawled through my brain:

What if he already knew?

I rubbed my eyes, exhausted. I didn't want to think about that now.

But I glanced at the mirror on the wall across from the bed.

Liam was standing in the doorway behind me—I hadn't heard him come back.

For just a second, his expression shifted. A stranger's smile.

Then it was gone. Back to the gentle, concerned Liam.

I blinked.

Was I imagining it?

He stepped back into the hallway without a word, closing the door again.

I pulled the blanket up to my chin, heart pounding.

I was safe here.

But for how long?

And from who?