Owned by the Mob Boss Read Online Free Page A
Author: Ashley Hall
Furniture had been overturned. Everywhere I looked, there were signs of chaos, of fighting. My house looked foreign to me. Everything was out of place, out of sorts.
It was all wrong.
There were a few other bodies too. Father had not gone down without taking out others. I knew from the red and gold the men wore that they were Golovkin’s men. Father had never shied away from telling me the truth about his life, and what would be my life one day. My father never thought that Golovkin would go after him, but that hadn’t meant that my father had been careless. We all had bodyguards. I learned to ignore mine, but his presence was a comfortable shadow. Although I didn’t want to have a bodyguard, I understood and accepted why one was necessary.
My bodyguard was dead too. So were my parents’ bodyguards. So much for the protection they offered.
Just before I had left their bedroom, I spied another dead Golovkin man. Buried in his ear was my mother’s dagger. She had fought back too, a fact that did not surprise me. She had been the one to teach me martial arts. She had been born into this life too. She hadn’t married into the mob. It was a part of her, just as it was my father. Or, rather, it had been a part of them.
I had tried to remove the dagger from the dead man’s ear, but it had been buried too deeply, so buried I could hardly budge it at all. Luckily, I did find another knife on the floor, and I grabbed that, just in case. Despite considering whether or not this was wise or if I should return to my hiding spot, I searched the rest of the house.
A lot of good that did me, although I had been smart to arm myself at least.
The living room and the dining room were empty, but another man was lying in wait in the kitchen, his back to me as he rifled through our refrigerator. My hand trembled, and my arc was too wide. I thought I could do it, be like my parents, that I could put up a fight, that I could take him on despite being so much bigger than me. If I had wiped my palms first so they weren’t sweaty, if I hadn’t been so afraid, if my nerves hadn’t gotten the better of me, I might have been able to strike him.
But he must have heard me because he whirled around and knocked the knife from my hand. I didn’t even have time to see the gun before he shot me.
I collapsed immediately, onto my stomach. I didn’t cry out. I didn’t move. I just lay there. My father had died. My mother had died. And now I was going to die too. That fright I felt just vanished. I was almost…at peace, strangely enough.
Dimly, I heard voices, one of which belonged to Vanya Golovkin. They thought me dead. They didn’t double check. And then they left.
This time, I waited longer to make sure that no one else was still around. I might have even slept some, but I could never figure out if I had or not. If anything, I probably had passed out from the pain and blood loss more than actually falling asleep.
Eventually, some of our men returned, and they took care of me. They took me to a safe house and brought a doctor there to operate on me. During those early days of recovery, I berated myself for leaving the safe room, but no one other than my parents knew where it had been located. And with hearing the screams that were and weren’t real…I might have gone insane had I stayed in there for much longer.
Plus, I could use what had happened to my advantage. I could twist things around to suit myself because that fear and nervousness that I had felt when I tried to attack that man had been reborn, just like I had been given a second chance at life. The fear and nervousness were now power and rage.
Vanya Golovkin, that horrible villain, thought I was dead.
But I had survived. And I vowed revenge.
And now the fiend had dared to return.
I shook my head to blot out the memories and held onto the railing of the balcony. I could barely stop myself from hunting down
It was all wrong.
There were a few other bodies too. Father had not gone down without taking out others. I knew from the red and gold the men wore that they were Golovkin’s men. Father had never shied away from telling me the truth about his life, and what would be my life one day. My father never thought that Golovkin would go after him, but that hadn’t meant that my father had been careless. We all had bodyguards. I learned to ignore mine, but his presence was a comfortable shadow. Although I didn’t want to have a bodyguard, I understood and accepted why one was necessary.
My bodyguard was dead too. So were my parents’ bodyguards. So much for the protection they offered.
Just before I had left their bedroom, I spied another dead Golovkin man. Buried in his ear was my mother’s dagger. She had fought back too, a fact that did not surprise me. She had been the one to teach me martial arts. She had been born into this life too. She hadn’t married into the mob. It was a part of her, just as it was my father. Or, rather, it had been a part of them.
I had tried to remove the dagger from the dead man’s ear, but it had been buried too deeply, so buried I could hardly budge it at all. Luckily, I did find another knife on the floor, and I grabbed that, just in case. Despite considering whether or not this was wise or if I should return to my hiding spot, I searched the rest of the house.
A lot of good that did me, although I had been smart to arm myself at least.
The living room and the dining room were empty, but another man was lying in wait in the kitchen, his back to me as he rifled through our refrigerator. My hand trembled, and my arc was too wide. I thought I could do it, be like my parents, that I could put up a fight, that I could take him on despite being so much bigger than me. If I had wiped my palms first so they weren’t sweaty, if I hadn’t been so afraid, if my nerves hadn’t gotten the better of me, I might have been able to strike him.
But he must have heard me because he whirled around and knocked the knife from my hand. I didn’t even have time to see the gun before he shot me.
I collapsed immediately, onto my stomach. I didn’t cry out. I didn’t move. I just lay there. My father had died. My mother had died. And now I was going to die too. That fright I felt just vanished. I was almost…at peace, strangely enough.
Dimly, I heard voices, one of which belonged to Vanya Golovkin. They thought me dead. They didn’t double check. And then they left.
This time, I waited longer to make sure that no one else was still around. I might have even slept some, but I could never figure out if I had or not. If anything, I probably had passed out from the pain and blood loss more than actually falling asleep.
Eventually, some of our men returned, and they took care of me. They took me to a safe house and brought a doctor there to operate on me. During those early days of recovery, I berated myself for leaving the safe room, but no one other than my parents knew where it had been located. And with hearing the screams that were and weren’t real…I might have gone insane had I stayed in there for much longer.
Plus, I could use what had happened to my advantage. I could twist things around to suit myself because that fear and nervousness that I had felt when I tried to attack that man had been reborn, just like I had been given a second chance at life. The fear and nervousness were now power and rage.
Vanya Golovkin, that horrible villain, thought I was dead.
But I had survived. And I vowed revenge.
And now the fiend had dared to return.
I shook my head to blot out the memories and held onto the railing of the balcony. I could barely stop myself from hunting down