King of the Don's

six

Vaughn

I was not expecting the young girl that was pushed onto the floor of my office. To starters, I knew Briar James was a pretty girl. I worked around mostly men, men who didn't know when to shut the fuck up, so I knew that they found our newest prisoner pretty.

But this was not what was expected. The young girl in front of me wore a light colored dress that was dirty from a few days wear, with her long brown hair sprawled over her shoulders and onto my hardwood floors. 

I removed my eyes from the girl who still hadn't even raised her head, and spoke to the two men behind her, "Leave." I demanded, and I got two bewildered facial expressions in return, but only for about a split second until they moved into action.

I knew they were confused, they probably assumed I would follow the typical prisoner protocol; interrogate to find out what they know, and then kill them once I heard everything. But I wasn't going to do that with this girl. I didn't want to kill her yet.

No, I wanted to do much worse things.

Once the men had left the room, she looked up at me, and I wondered what she saw as her light green eyes trailed over my body. When they got to my face, I knew she was looking right at my scar. Most people did when they saw me, but it didn't bother me like it used to, "Done staring?" I asked, and her face fell at my words, which meant she could hear my words.

She didn't say anything back at first, but then her soft voice pulled me out of my thoughts, "What are you going to do with me?" She asked, and I ignored her question because I wasn't exactly sure what I was going to do with her. So I decided to ask a question of my own, "You are able to hear?"

Her face turned angry at my words, but I didn't care. "I don't like my questions unanswered." I told her with a strict voice, "I was told you're deaf, and I'm guessing you're not?"

She sobered up at my words, leaning back to sit on her calfs, "I'm partially deaf, I can't hear from my left ear." She told me, pulling back her hair to show me an outdated looking hearing aid.

I nodded my head, content that she didn't lie, "And you can hear with that on?" I inquired, and she paused for a second, "No, not really." She whispered, her voice cracking midway through. I recalled my conversation with Rich, and realized the girl had been down in the basement for almost a full day. I had ordered them not to let her out for any reason, as I did with all my prisoners, but this made me feel almost a surge of guilt. 

I decided to be nice, and went to the small bar cart in the corner of the room. I poured a cup of water and gave it to her, and she stuck out her small, shaking hand to grab it, "Drink, little lamb." I demanded, and she reluctantly gulped the whole cup down.

A little lamb was something she reminded me of. A scared little lamb. It was fitting.

"More?" I asked, and she shook her head.

"What are you going to do with me?" She repeated the question again, this time a little louder and clearer, and I couldn't help but chuckle, "Looks like the little lamb found her voice." I taunted, and she didn't say anything in response, only looked back down toward my feet. It was what people in our world were supposed to do when looking at the Don, especially the king.

But I didn't like when she did it. Not a single bit. So I bent down on my haunches, and reached out to rest two fingers below her chin, tilting her head up so her eyes could meet mine.

She seemed surprised at the action, and did nothing to cover it, but I asked my question anyway, "Why were you in my conference room?" I asked, and her bottom lip rolled into her mouth, "I just needed a few minutes to calm down," She whispered back, and she must've realized that wasn't good enough for me, "I just saw someone who I didn't want to see, and I freaked out." She shrugged, "So I needed a minute, but once I wanted to leave and go home, I heard people on the outside of the door, and then I hid under the table."