Thirteen.

One week later...

I sit sandwiched between Ace and Jacob at a large rounded table at the 'Le Fleur' restaurant, the aromas of rich food and cigars linger in the atmosphere.

Tonight is auction night, a four-monthly gathering of wealthy bastards with sick fetishes for the girls Trent has trafficked into the country with the goal of selling them to the highest bidder.

60% of the girls are between the ages of 15 and16, and it makes me sick to my stomach to watch them walk onto the stage blindfolded and wearing nothing but sexy lingerie, with a spotlight highlighting their greatest assets and flaws for their audience to see while they are sexually objectified and then purchased like livestock.

I take a sip from the icy glass of bottled water; I used to enjoy coming here when Ace first introduced me to this place, but now it's a place I despise and wish to never return for multiple reasons.

One of those reasons occurred two years ago when had I witnessed my first shooting, met Trent and learned Ace was a mafia bitch...

~Two year's ago on our first anniversary.~

Ace and I were having a great time at the bar, sipping on our drinks, when I slid off my stool and excused myself to use the ladies room.

I made my way to the right side of the bar, down a narrow corridor. Because I'd never used the ladies room here before, I assumed this was the only route.

I made it only a few steps before believing my ears were deceiving me. My body tensed and I held my breath, pleading with my heart to remain still so that it would not mask the sounds emanating from the restaurant.

No sound followed, only light chatter and laughter from the restaurant's patrons, and I began to believe it was all in my head.

I closed my eyes, greedily sucking air back into my oxygen-depleted lungs, and a split second later, my eyes widened at the familiar sound.

It wasn't the gut-wrenching sound of a gun going off; rather, it was the whizzing sound of a gun fitted with a silencer, followed by the loud thud of a body colliding with the floor.

Bang! Bang!

This time, both of them were back to back, and it sounded closer.

Bang!

Another shot was fired, and I pressed my body flush against the wall, with nowhere else to go, hoping that it would shield me from any approaching danger.

I gradually willed myself to return the way I came, hoping to find Ace; I am not an idiot. I have a sixth sense of smelling danger. I quickened my steps as I rounded the corner, motivated solely by the desire to survive another day.

This drive to live was immediately snuffed out when my screams of terror were ripped from my throat and a large sack was placed over my head. I was thrown into a world of darkness, my breathing became ragged and I slowly started to feel light-headed.

I began to struggle and scream, pleading with them to release me, and I felt myself being carried down the corridor, my heels slipping off as I went. The sound of a metal door crashing against a brick wall made me flinch and I instantly knew I was being dragged outside through the back of the restaurant when the late autumn nights wind started slicing through the thin material of my blouse.

"Stay put, bitch!" As they roped my hands together, one of the men said.

The more I struggled, the deeper the grazes pierced my flesh, and the more I shouted, the more my throat ached and began to feel raw. As I continued to plead with them, my voice became hoarse, and each time I swallowed, it felt as if I were swallowing shards of glass.

I whipped my head side to side seconds later, trying to figure out how many of them there were. That didn't last long, as a pinching sensation developed in the crook of my neck and my veins eventually felt as if they were on fire immediately before my body went limp and I lost consciousness.

As I gradually regained consciousness, my eyes were still encased in a sea of darkness, my heart pounded against my ribs, and I thought to myself that those men would kill me before my heart failed.

I had never understood what fear was until that moment.

I struggled against my restraints, realising that I was still tethered to a chair by my upright posture and the sack is was hanging over my head.

I considered fighting them, despite the fact that I was no G.I Jane.

I was a nobody, I was frail, and I began to wonder if anyone would notice I had been taken against my will.

Would they even worry about me?

I despised being defenceless...

"Hello?" I croaked out, my throat still sore and I had the distinct impression that I was suffocating beneath the sack.

"The bitch is awake." My breathing became laboured in response to the gruff sound of a male voice nearby.

"Perfectly fine," another person said. "Trent has just arrived, and he is less than thrilled to discover who she belongs to."

My teeth clenched, obliterating the hissing sound that threatened to escape my lips as the pounding in my head intensified. With each agonising second that passed, I became more fearful.

The sound of them speaking calmly in Italian did not sit well with me; I knew only a few words, one of which was 'puttana a buon mercato,' which meant cheap whore, and they used that word numerous times, raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

After witnessing their assassination hit, there was no doubt that I was being held captive by the mafia. My ears were pierced by the sound of a door creaking open; the thud of heavy boots hitting the ground drawing closer, and I felt my body shiver as the boots came to a halt in front of me.

"What is her given name?" His voice was hushed, and goosebumps erupted along the cold surface of my skin.

"Mila, sir. She is a lovely creature, and we can see why he chose to keep her hidden from the rest of the family."

Someone ripped the sack from my head, and I squinted against the penetrating lights, inhaling large gulps of air. Filling my lungs with the lingering smell of stale piss and cigars.

"Are you aware of who I am?" I was interrogated by a man whose name I could only guess was Trent.

I shook my head, refusing to meet his gaze, fearful that they might be the last set of eyes I gazed into, and I didn't want to look my executioner in the eyes.

I refused to give him the satisfaction.

A chair was dragged across the room; the screeching sound of the legs being dragged made my body cringe, and I flinched as the chair was slammed against the floor and this Trent guy sat on it backwards facing me.

"My name is Trent, and you have come as a guest to my kingdom." I could feel his scorching breath fanning the side of my face. "Normally, I would kill you without hesitation, but given who you belong to, you can count your lucky stars." His fingers slipped beneath my chin, lifting my face to meet his almond-shaped eyes.

"Please," I implored with fear lacing my plead.

"How much do you value your life?" He snickered as the back of his throat vibrated with a growl.

I gulped, twisting my hands against the ropes that continued to bind me to the chair as tears flowed from my tear ducts.

"I have nothing to give you; I have neither money nor assets to offer you."

"Now, I'm not sure about that." He says as his fingers started undoing the buttons on my blouse and a shrewd of Italian words were thrown back and forth between the men in the room.

Fear, contempt and anger slammed into me like a freight train when I realised what he was referring to.

There was no way I was going to let this man deflower me against my will and adrenaline slowly started to course through my veins.

"Get your filthy hands off me." I hissed in contempt.

"Trent, Per favore, non questo." (Please, not this one.) A familiar voice I once believed to be like velvet, spoke and hope filled my soul.

"Non implorare, solo i cani implorano! (Dont beg, only dogs beg!) "Sii uomo e riprendimi la tua puttana!" (Be a man and take back your whore from me!) Trent laughed.

I watched as the brightness dimmed in Ace's eyes for a moment before they shone with wrath and he marched up to Trent, wrapping his arm around his neck and dragged him off the chair, which crashed to the ground.

Trent thrusted his arm forward, grunting as he drove his elbow backwards, slamming it into Ace's ribs, and I sobbed as Ace's grip loosened, allowing Trent to escape.

When he was free from Aces grasp, the other men in the room grabbed ahold of Ace, restraining him as Trent started punching him.

"I run this empire, me!" Trent bellowed out, "ME!" as he pounded Ace in the face; I sobbed as his eyes swelled shut and his body eventually went limp.

The flare of hope in my heart was immediately extinguished when the light in his eyes went out as well.