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?

Chapter 7: Vittorio De Luca Loan Shark Office.

Vittorio’s POV

Outside the Bookstore

I sat in the driver’s seat of my red car, gloved hands resting on my knees, eyes locked on the window across the street.

The window was cracked open slightly.

She was inside. I could feel it not just in my chest, but in my cock.

The first time I met her had been a mistake. That kiss. But I couldn’t forget it. I couldn’t forget her.

Katarina.

She was talking to someone inside. Her voice drifted through the window soft and distant.

Soft yellow light bled through the curtains. I wondered if she was reading. Or crying. Or thinking about me.

I didn’t know which one turned me on more.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I muttered to myself.

But I didn’t leave. She hadn’t seen me … not really. Not from the bookstore as I watched her from my car. Not when she’d kissed me at the club. She hadn’t seen what I truly was.

But she would.

I clenched my jaw as the curtain shifted. A silhouette moved past slim, barefoot.

She was pacing. She always did that when she was anxious.

The memory hit me her mouth open, trembling, on her knees in front of me at the club. Her breath shaky. Her body responding even through her fear.

I growled under my breath and gripped the steering wheel until it creaked.

“She’s just a girl,” I whispered. “A distraction. Nothing more.”

But even now, in the dark, her scent haunted me.The sweat from fear and something sweet and purely hers.

That fucking scent made my cock throb in my jeans. I pressed my palm against it….it was hard. Lik a punishment.

“Not yet.”

I’d promised myself I wouldn’t touch her again until she begged.

The front door to the apartment building opened. A man stepped outside in a hoodie.

I relaxed slightly.

“She’s mine,” I whispered into the empty car.

For a moment, I imagined walking up those stairs. Knocking. Then gripping her by the throat and asking if she wanted to run again.

But I didn’t move.

I sat there watching her and breathing her in from across the street.

Eventually, the light went out and the window went dark.

I lit a cigarette with shaking hands and took a long drag.

“I’ll give her one more night,” I muttered. “Then I’ll take what’s mine.”

I started the engine and I didn’t glance back at the window.

She was already imprinted behind my eyes. I pulled away from the curb, the red car disappearing into the night. But somehow, I found myself driving and following her into the dark.

Mateo POV AT Katarina’s Apartment After She Fled

"Where the fuck is the girl?"

Scarface's boot slammed into the coffee table, sending broken plates and empty beer bottles crashing to the floor.

My heart pounded as I stepped between him and my father, who reeked of whiskey and desperation. His hands trembled as he stumbled back.

"She was here," my father stammered. "I swear she was just here..."

Scarface didn't care. He jerked his chin at the two goons beside him.

"Hold the pretty boy down."

Before I could react, strong arms grabbed me. One yanked my wrist behind my back while the other shoved me forward until my knees slammed into the cracked floorboards.

Pain exploded through my legs, but I clenched my jaw tight, refusing to scream.

My father scrambled to his feet, waving a stack of crumpled bills at Scarface.

"Here! Take it back!" he cried, tears and sweat streaming down his face. "Take the money! I don't want trouble!"

Scarface snatched the money and laughed coldly. He let the bills rain down over my father's head, slapping him across the face with a handful.

"You think this was about money?" Scarface stepped closer, shoving my father so hard he collapsed into the broken table. "We don't want your filthy fucking money."

He knelt down, grabbed my father's hair, and yanked his head back.

"We want the girl you promised," he spat. "The sexy little virgin."

My gut twisted hearing him talk about Kat that way.

Scarface gripped my father's chin, forcing his mouth open.

"You think you can fuck with Giordano?" he hissed.

Without warning, he smashed the butt of his gun across my father's face. Blood sprayed across the wall. My father crumpled to the floor, sobbing.

"Please!" he cried. "She was here! I swear! Don't kill me!"

Scarface glanced around the room. His sick eyes landed on my mother slumped on the stained couch, barely conscious, her blouse hanging off her skeletal frame.

"Maybe you need motivation," Scarface said.

"No..." I muttered, struggling against the men holding me.

"Don't touch her, you sick fuck!" I shouted.

But Scarface just laughed. He grabbed my mother by the hair and yanked her upright. Her eyes fluttered open—glassy, confused, too high to understand.

He ripped her blouse apart. Buttons scattered. Her pale breasts spilled out, covered in bruises and track marks.

She moaned softly—confused, pained.

"Pretty little junkie," Scarface muttered, unzipping his pants. He shoved her back onto the couch.

I thrashed harder. "NO!" I roared, but they shoved my face into the floor.

I heard it. Fabric tearing. My mother's weak whimpers. The disgusting grunts from Scarface as he forced himself on her.

Tears blurred my vision. I squeezed my eyes shut, fists clenched so tight my nails cut into my palms.

When he finished, he wiped himself on her torn blouse. She just lay there, broken.

Scarface turned back to me, grinning. "You ready to talk now?"

I lifted my head, blood dripping from my split lip. I glared at him with pure hatred.

And spat at his feet.

His smile faded.

He pulled out a hunting knife, the blade gleaming under the light.

"Let's see how much pain you can take."

He grabbed my left hand and forced it flat against the broken table.

"No!" I struggled, but they pinned me harder.

SLICE.

White-hot agony shot up my arm as he severed my pinky finger clean off. I screamed. Blood sprayed across the table.

My finger rolled off and landed in a puddle of whiskey and dirt.

Scarface leaned in close, his breath rancid. "You have twenty-four hours," he whispered. "Bring me the girl... or I kill you, your whore mother, and your useless father. Then I'll find your little sister and fuck her until she breaks."

He kicked my severed finger across the floor.

I gasped, vision going black from pain.

"I'll pay it back," I croaked. "Just give me time."

"You want to buy her back?" Scarface hissed. "Fine. Pay ten times what your father took. Ten times. Or we take her body and your lives."

Ten times the money? Impossible.

"I'll get the money," I said, blood dripping from my hand.

Scarface laughed and slapped me. "Time's ticking."

He nodded to his men. They let me go.

I collapsed, gasping. The door slammed. Their motorcycles roared outside.

I crawled to my mother and covered her with a blanket. She didn't respond.

I sat there, clutching my bleeding hand, shaking with rage.

I had twenty-four hours. Maybe less.

If I wanted to save my sister, I had to do something unthinkable.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I'd gotten from the streets—a number everyone whispered about but no one dared call.

The Devil's number.

Vittorio De Luca Loan Shark Office.

Katarina's POV - Liam's Apartment

"What the hell!"

I slammed the bathroom door so hard the walls trembled.I pressed my forehead to the cold wood, squeezing my eyes shut, trying not to break.

I just needed to wash it all off the dirt, the blood, the smell of my father’s betrayal still stuck to my skin. And here he was …Liam ….. He had been watching me. I'd felt his eyes on my body while I was in the shower. Burning and staring, even when I ducked under the water. Even when I turned away, hoping he would leave, I caught him peeking through the crack of the door.

He just stood there watching me through the crack like some twisted predator.

My hands shook as I grabbed the thin towel from the rack, wrapping it around my naked body.

I could still feel the sting of soap against my raw skin.

Bruises bloomed across my thighs. My legs ached deep from running, falling—from everything that had broken me in the last 24 hours.

I rubbed my arms roughly, trying to scrub off the feeling of his eyes, but it was too late. It was under my skin now.

I limped to the mirror, legs shaking.

That's when I saw it—a jagged gash on my elbow, raw and red. The skin was torn, blood crusted around it.

It Must've been from when I fell running from the cartel. Or maybe when Liam grabbed me too hard earlier.

The pain pulsed, sharp and hot under the fluorescent light.

I needed help. I needed to call Selena. I needed to get the hell out of here.

I was still wrapped in the damp towel when I cracked the door open, peeking out into the hallway.

There was no sign of Liam.

I moved fast, my bare feet slapping against the floor. The towel barely stayed up around my chest, barely covering my breasts as I ran toward the kitchen where I'd seen a landline earlier.

The apartment was too quiet silent in that way that made your ears ring. Like the building was holding its breath, waiting for something awful to happen.

The landline hung crooked on the wall in the kitchen the ancient, dirty kind that you had to punch the numbers into.

My fingers shook as I snatched it up. My heart was pounding so loudly it filled my ears.

I had no clothes and shoes, just a growing certainty that I wasn't safe here. Not even for another hour.

I had to remember Selena's number from memory.

Think, Katarina. THINK. Come on.

Sweat dripped down my back as I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my brain to work through the panic.

My mind went blank. My heart was pounding so hard I could barely think.

Numbers, numbers—what were the numbers?

Finally, they came to me. I punched the numbers in.

Please work. Please work.

The line clicked. A dial tone.

I clutched the towel tighter around myself with one hand, holding the phone with the other.

Each beep echoed loudly in the empty house.

Come on, come on, come on...

And then her sleepy voice crackled through: "Hello?"

I nearly collapsed with relief.

"Selena," I gasped, the words falling out of me in a rush. "Selena, listen to me. Something's wrong. Something's really, really wrong."

"Katarina?" Her voice sharpened instantly. "Where are you? What happened? Talk to me!"

I gripped the sticky plastic receiver so hard my fingers ached. The smells in the house made me want to gag: cheap cleaner, sweat, something burnt.

"I'm at Liam's," I choked out. "But he's not... he's not right, Sel. He's not who we thought he was."

"What do you mean not right?" she demanded, voice rising. "And why the hell are you at Liam's house? Kat…are you hurt?!"

"No…I mean….not yet," I stammered. "Selena, one minute he's sweet and nerdy, asking if I want tea, telling me to sleep... and the next.." I shuddered. "The next, he's someone else. Cold. Angry. Violent. His eyes... God, his eyes don't even look human sometimes."

The words tumbled out fast, messy.

Selena's breathing sharpened on the other end.“Kat... that sounds like DID. Dissociative Identity Disorder ,,,you remember that from class?The personality disorder? It’s real, and it’s serious. He could have... more than one side.”

I squeezed the phone tighter, my nails digging into the dirty plastic.

"I know. I know, Sel. I saw it. I saw it happen."

My legs were shaking so hard I slid down the wall, clutching the receiver to my ear.

"Listen to me carefully," Selena said, voice low and fierce. "You need to get out of there. Now. Come to my house. You're not safe."

Tears blurred my vision. My body wanted to run, but my brain screamed no.

"I can't," I whispered. "I can't, Sel. It's not just him."

My voice cracked, the truth bursting out of me: "My father... he sold me, Sel. Sold me to the Mafia."

Selena didn't breathe. I could feel it. The silence stabbing through the line.

"I managed to escape, but... they're out there. Hunting me. The Cartels... they're waiting for me."

I heard a small, broken sound escape from Selena..her heart shattering right there.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "Oh my fucking God, Kat..."

I wiped my eyes roughly, fighting the sob building in my throat.

"I can't leave, Sel." My voice cracked. "If I run now... they'll find me. They'll kill me."

Selena finally found her voice, and it broke into a thousand pieces. "No, Kat, no, you listen to me. I'm coming to get you. I'll find you. I swear to God, I'll tear down the whole fucking city if I have to!"

Her voice cracked on the last word, thick with tears. "You're my best friend. My sister. I can't lose you."

My throat closed up. "I know," I whispered, voice shaking.

Selena's breathing was ragged, panicked, furious. "Kat, please. Just hide somewhere. Stay locked up until you can run. Don't trust him. Not any side of him."

"I know, I'll try," I whispered.

I wiped my eyes roughly with the back of my hand, swallowing the sob building in my throat.

I had to find Mateo. I had to get away. Somehow.

I opened my mouth to say more…

But the floorboards creaked behind me.

My blood turned to ice. I turned my head slowly.

Liam stood there. His body was stiff. His fists clenched at his sides. His brown eyes were darker than I'd ever seen…cold, hollow, dead.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

His voice wasn't Liam's. It was low and dangerous now.

"Who said you could use the phone?"

My whole body locked up. The receiver slipped from my hand and clattered against the wall, the call with Selena cutting off instantly.

The sound of the receiver hitting the wall…the sharp crack of plastic..seemed to snap something inside Liam.

He stumbled back, hands twitching, chest heaving like he couldn't breathe.

I watched in frozen horror as his whole face shifted. His body sagged. His eyes softened. He looked... confused and scared.

"Katarina?" His voice was high, nervous. "D-did you hurt yourself? I heard a noise. Are you okay? You need to be careful. I can get you tea... I'll fix it..."

He stepped closer, concerned now.

"You fell when you were running earlier," he said softly. "Scraped your elbow."

I froze.

I hadn't told him that.

Tears prickled behind my eyes. I didn't know which Liam I was talking to. I didn't know which Liam was standing in front of me…the boy who made tea or the monster who might snap my neck.

I forced a smile so tight it hurt. My fingers dug into the towel.

"I'm fine," I lied, my voice barely a whisper.

Liam's head twitched to the side..a sudden jerk…something inside him breaking loose again.

I stood there, barefoot, half-naked, with no way out.

If this Liam slipped away... I was dead.

I smiled wider, teeth aching.

Survive the night, Katarina.

Or die trying.