Chapter 1
Oriya Deronte
I walked lightly, careful not to make any noise on the leaves and branches below. A single sound and you're found in a matter of seconds, Oriya, I said in my head repeatedly.
Tightening the shirt wrapped around my wounded leg, I pulled out my phone, remembering to put the brightness low to make sure the son of a bitch trying to kill me right now doesn't see the light.
I clicked on Kena, my best friend knowing she will pick up when my name pops up on her screen. 'No Service.' It reads.
I'm fucked.
I could hear his footsteps getting closer and closer to where I was. I held my finger over the flashlight on my phone as I turned it on, and threw it as far as I could, wishing that no trees would be in the way and hopefully whoever this man is would run to wherever my phone ended up.
The footsteps halted immediately and began sprinting towards the light flashing from my phone. He's stupid but I'm not complaining.
When his footsteps could no longer be heard, I ran towards my car, not caring about the noise I was making or the pain shooting through my leg after every step. Thankfully, the headlights of my car were on. I could see them flashing from where I was.
Just a little more running. Behind me I could hear the psycho chasing after me, judging by the distance of his footsteps, he wasn't within 20 ft of me and because of the dark he couldn't use his gun and shoot me, he had to follow my steps.
Stumbling over some rocks, I made it to my car and looked inside through the window, the car keys were still inside.
I broke my passenger seat window using my elbow and took out the gun sitting so pretty on it. I went around to the drivers side using the car as my shield.
Peaking my head just a little, I aimed at his face and nearly emptied the gun, leaving just one bullet. As I fucking should. I stood up straight and looked at the man. He was completely unrecognizable.
I got in, and started the car. Behind me I could hear another car approaching at rapid speed. It was nighttime and Saturday. Street-racers, shit. If someone sees this, I'm completely screwed. I had my gun ready to shoot whoever this was before they could see me.
The car was coming closer and closer. I thought it would stop but to my surprise it didn't. It went right past me and the dead man. The bet must be a million dollars.
If I wasn't so damn drugged right now, and did not have blood pouring out my damn leg, I would've killed him. I knew who was behind this. Only one man would be so desperate to have me kidnapped just so he can keep me locked in a cage and torture me. Only one man hates me so much. Well, the feelings fucking mutual.
The years of hatred we have had for each other, because of the rivalry going on between our families. He can't even come kill me himself anymore? A fucking pussy.
I limped through my house trying to make it up to my room without falling unconscious. Using the elevator rather than stairs, I kept a hold on the blood soaked shirt on my leg. It was barely even stopping any blood anymore. I put down my gun and took off my tank top. I wrapped it around my leg instead of the shirt.
"Fuck" I whispered under my breath. I stared at the increasing numbers praying for it to hit 3 before I end up passed out from blood loss. I looked up to the mirror at the top of the elevator realizing I'm only wearing a bra and jeans. A lacey bra. I had to walk through the floor my father and five year old brother stayed on, without waking them up and letting them see me like this.
"Yay." I muttered sarcastically into the empty space.
The elevator doors finally opened and I stepped out, making sure to walk slowly and lightly to avoid waking my father up. Father was a light sleeper and in all honesty I think it's a good thing. Being a Mafia Boss meant having enemies who would try to kill you using any opportunity they could possibly get.
My little brother, Ryder on the other hand could sleep through a fucking bombing. He literally did.
Quietly opening my room door, I took out the first aid kit that was always lying by the door in case of emergencies like this one. I couldn't risk turning on the light in case someone woke up and walked in. Father didn't know I went out for a drive tonight and I don't plan on letting him find out.
Unable to reach the wound at the back of my leg, I decided to ask my maid, Martha for help. I stood up slowly, trying not to put too much pressure on my injured leg. Just as I took a step, a husky voice I knew all too well spoke,
"I was starting to think he actually killed you."
Vincent fucking Laurent.
a/n - hey guys
the first few are pretty short and stuff but it does get better.