Alora Imari has the face of an angel, but the body of a vixen. She's feared by all. Her and her elder brother, Giovanni Imari, were passed down the family business; becoming mobsters for the Italian mafia.
Many describe Alora as being heartless and...
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I wake up in a soundproof room. There's nothing around me. One flickering light hangs above my head and my left arm is throbbing in pain. I brush my hair back and see blood seeping through the gauze. How in the hell can I fix this? There's nothing in here for me to use.
I scan the room and spot a metal door. I walk over and try to open it but it's locked. Great. I bang on the door and scream. "Open this fucking door! I'm dying in here!"
"Good." I hear a voice behind me and I whip around. I don't recognize this man. He's wearing an all black suit with a blood red tie. Huh?
"Who are you?" I ask him.
"You have been very hard to track down, Avi," he steps closer to me and his hands are behind his back. "You have tortured and killed many of my men and now... it only seems fair to return the favor."
Suddenly, there's a glass wall and I see my twin brother strapped to a chair. The stranger dissipates into the other room and I watch as he picks up a knife from his table of torture devices. I bang against the wall, not paying attention to the pain shooting from my injured arm, as Gio screams in pain.
"No! Let him go, you motherfucker!"
"Alora!" I hear him shout but it sounds so muffled. My heart races and pounds in my ears. His head swings back as a scream rips through his throat. I fall to my knees, feeling useless, and water falls from an unknown source.
"Alora." Someone is shaking me and I don't know who it is. "Baby, wake up." Wake up? What the hell does that mean? I am —
I gasp as I shoot up from bed. I can't breathe. My head pounds and sweat runs down my neck. I blink and look around... I'm in Salvatore's bedroom. Loose hair sticks to the back of my neck as I feel the bed shift.
"Shh, it was just a dream," he soothes as his fingers come to brush my hair behind my ear. "I'll be right back, okay?" I faintly nod and wipe my face. Salvatore turns on his bedside lamp and walks out of the room.
These nightmares are emotionally exhausting. I don't even want to think about going back to sleep right now. The neckline of my shirt is drenched with sweat and I feel disgusting. I do not have the energy to take a shower right now so I opt for changing my outfit. I get up and go towards his closet. I strip out of the only piece of clothing I was wearing, leaving my chest out in the open because who wears a bra to sleep?
Next thing I know, I'm staring at myself in his mirror. I peel back the bandage and reveal the many scars I have. I have a large scar from the surgery and one from the gunshot. I remove the gauze from a shoulder and see the wound from it. I know a lot of people think scars are badass, which they are, but as I stare at my scars all I feel is powerless. I trace the largest scar I have with my right index finger and tears fall from my eyes. God, I hate removing my arm from this sling; it hurts like a bitch. I face away from the door when I hear it open. I cover my scars back up, wipe my eyes and grab one of his shirts.
