Call You Mine (Servite Academy)

Prologue

WYNTER

N ew York City

This can’t be happening to me.

Like an inescapable nightmare come to life, a gruesome scene too painful to look at directly, or a horror movie that becomes more terrifying with each passing second—that’s what my life has become.

Standing on the rooftop of the Emporio Hotel, staring down at the bustling streets of Manhattan, I’m determined to jump. Down fifty stories, while gazing up at the cloudless night sky alight with thousands of flickering lights in the distance. From daunting city skyscrapers to blinding street lights and traffic signals, the city that never sleeps is calling to me.

A haunting whisper urging me to my demise. Do it Wynter. This is your only option, the only way you can truly escape him. The only way you’ll ever know what true freedom tastes like.

Death is my one-way ticket to freedom. However, it’s a sweeter end than what’s in store for me if I remain any longer by his side.

Well, by his rotting corpse.

For three tedious years, I’ve hidden behind the wrought-iron gates of his bloody palace, like a damsel locked in his tower, helpless, barely surviving in this ruthless kingdom. No one is coming to save me. No one even knows I’m in danger.

It’s no one’s fault but my own, but it’s the way it had to be.

Alone. Forgotten. Broken beyond repair.

I disappeared without warning, leaving no trace behind, forced by his heavy hand. Of course, it wasn’t a shock to anyone. I always acted on impulse, and leaving behind the scandalous, ill-famed life I had adopted in Hillcrest Hills was exactly what everyone expected of me. I left my home and never looked back. Now there’s nowhere I'd rather be.

There’s no place like home.

My mind’s making a mockery of me, reminding me the glamorous life I once held to the highest regard, yet had taken for granted, was ripped away from me in the blink of an eye, and was now the only thing I wish I had left.

There’s no place like home.

If only I could click my five-inch, red-bottom heels four times and repeat this mantra, teleporting myself back to my family’s mansion. At least that was a prison I’d grown to tolerate. A purgatory in which I knew exactly what to expect. A comfortable hell.

No surprises, no hidden agendas. Not like this impressive penthouse on the top floor of his hotel.

C'est l'enfer pour moi . This was my hell on earth.

It’s funny how even in death, my biological father's ghost continues to haunt me. After all, I’m here because of him and his betrayal of the most dangerous family in all of New York.

Given Wesley Servite’s transgressions, I became nothing more than a prize to be won by his enemies. After they discovered his betrayal, the worst of them came to collect. Wesley was a monster—a crooked thief, a vile fiend who ran a plethora of illicit businesses and illegal affairs. He bathed in corruption and thrived off the blood of those less fortunate he used to do his dirty bidding.

That was my true legacy. An inescapable burden my dear father left me with.

Lucky for him, he’d gone and gotten himself blown up before he had to pay for his crimes. Unluckily for me, I was left to pay for my father’s sins—a father I never had.

Yet the list was a long one, and they just kept on coming.

The brisk air around me sings a solemn song, one I’ve heard too many times before. Ghostly whispers kiss my neck like the most sensual lips, taunting me with the pleasure of a prodigal ending. How easy it could be to just forget everything and disappear. The idea is so tempting however, I've never been one for bravery.

A coward to the core, that is what I was. The worst of my kind. But again, it was the way of the people who raised me. It was my legacy. All the men in my life, cowards who claimed their entire lives to be fearsome lions, refused to face their fears and accept their flaws. They were anything but valiant.

“Mrs. Marchesi,” a voice I can hardly hear behind the sirens blaring in the distance calls out to me, forcing me to go stiff, my right foot teetering on the edge of the rooftop. Closing my eyes and silently praying whoever he is will disappear and leave me be, I bring my left foot up to meet my right, precariously balancing along the ledge of the rooftop.

I can hear Enzo’s whispers in my ear, a haunting melody I will live with for the rest of my life. Even in death, he’ll be a monster who’ll haunt me for all eternity.

The frosty New York breeze blows right through me, pricking my skin with goosebumps and shivers creeping up my spine. Just one small flick of air and it’s sayonara Wynter. Turns out we were all only born to do one thing—to die, and I might have just found my one true calling.

C’est la vie.

Fear paralyzes me as more sirens bellow in the distance, but it’s not the fear of falling or of death, it’s the fear of what will happen to me if they discover what I’ve done.

I’ll die before I let that happen. I’ll end my life before I allow them to have the privilege of my continued suffering.

Staring down at my bloody hands, I frantically wipe them clean against my silver dress, crimson stains soaking through the delicate rhinestone fabric. My entire body trembles as the metallic stench of blood burns through my nostrils, making bile rise in my throat, painfully burning as it begs to be released. They’ll think it’s my blood if I time my descent correctly, making sure I fall in the precise position to cover it up. It’s not a complete lie, some of it is mine and I have the open gashes to prove it.

“Mrs. Marchesi, please. I’m here to help.” The stranger's voice echoes closer, almost directly behind me, his warm breath tickling the back of my neck like a delicate feather in the early spring breeze.

I close my eyes and inhale sharply, willing the tiniest ounce of courage left in me. “Please, just leave me alone. I can’t do this anymore. I won’t live like this.”

The silence that follows floods me with relief until he speaks again. “I can help you escape, Wynnie.” Hearing my hated childhood nickname, one no one uses anymore, leaving his lips causes me to turn abruptly, unsure what or who to expect.

My heart races as confusion and dread fill me with so many questions the moment I turn and catch sight of him standing there along the concrete. A ghost who’s come back to life stares at me, unmoving. His eyes are unreadable, but his demeanor shifts when they meet my wounds.

“Luke?” I mutter in horror afraid he’s seen the blood coating my skin. Despite our history, he’ll have no choice but to turn me in. Or worse, he’s a witness they’ll also make disappear. “What are you doing here?” I stutter anxiously, losing my balance and almost toppling off the ledge to my death, but before I fall, he reaches out for me, grabbing my arm and cradling me in against his chest.

He’s quick to set me down on the concrete below, though he doesn’t immediately release me. By now my heart's beating at more than a hundred beats per second, adrenaline coursing through me from the raw fear of almost plummeting down fifty stories and landing in a bloody mess on the dirty pavement below.

Even if it was the sole reason I came up here.

Luke Prescott —a friendly ghost from my past, an inconsequential lover, and the brother of my ex-best friend Carrington, looks at me like he understands my pain. It’s not shock that maims his green eyes, it’s recognition.

Understanding.

Sorrow.

Yet it’s horror that flickers in mine.

After working for Wesley for most of his adult life, I figured Luke had disappeared just like every other one of my father’s associates in fear of what was waiting for him if he stayed back in Hillcrest Hills. It had been over three years since the last time I saw Luke, and I will admit I mourned him after neither Carrington nor I heard from him following Wesley’s death. We feared he’d faced the same ill-fate.

My shocked expression must give away my thoughts, causing Luke to tighten his hold on me. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you, Wynnie.” He leans forward and runs his nose through my hair. “God, I’ve missed you, baby.”

I’m frozen in place, unable to react, to push him away. My raw emotions are whirling around inside of me. The joy of knowing he’s alive and well, the bewilderment of why he's here, and the fear of what he might do now that he’s caught me fleeing.

“You called me Mrs. Marchesi,” I murmur under my breath, realizing he’s used the name I forcefully adopted. The one no one outside of Manhattan knew. “Why did you call me that?”

Sensing my discomfort, he pulls away, regretfully unable to meet my gaze. “When Enzo showed up in Hillcrest after Wesley’s death, he spared me. Really, he gave me no choice, Wyn. Enzo had kept tabs on me, on all of us who worked for Wesley, and he singled out those who would be of use to him. I guess I was lucky to have made a name for myself amongst Wesley’s clowns. Enzo needed me more than he’d first realized. Once he found out about our relationship, he realized he could use it to his advantage.”

“We didn’t have a relationship ,” I remind him, focusing on that tidbit of information after the bomb he just dropped on me. But I definitely wouldn’t call fucking him—no more than three times, then toying with him when I couldn’t get what I needed from who I really wanted—a relationship.

Luke ignores my remark, brushing it off like it wasn’t the truth. “Regardless, he knew we were close and needed someone to keep an eye on you when he wasn’t around. Enzo could have asked any of his men to do it, but he feared they’d lose control if you were to do something that warranted more than a warning or broke the rules he’d set. He knew I could never hurt you and, despite everything, your safety was his priority.”

I gasp, unbelieving of what he’s telling me. How dare he say that monster cared about anything other than making me suffer only to entertain him and his sick needs.

“How? Why?” I murmur in shock, unsure what it is I’m even asking.

At this precise moment, like mockery, the sky growls—a fearsome sound accompanied by the descent of acid rain which burns against my open flesh. At least that’s what it feels like as the droplets kiss my chest. I close my eyes, letting the rain mask the tears slipping down my cheeks. Mascara runs down my face like coal, painting a tortured portrait of helplessness and betrayal.

Reaching out for me once again, he continues his story. “He used our relationship to control me, threatening me with hurting you if I didn’t comply and become his puppet. I couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt, so that’s what I became,” he says, acting like he had no other choice in the matter. Like he did me a fucking favor by being some twisted version of a protector who watched my misery from behind a glass door without doing a goddamn thing about it.

My jaw drops as I try to break free of his hold, outraged by his confession. He’s been here the entire time and he never once tried to help me escape. Three years he watched as the small glimmer of light I once had in me vanished without a trace, not even a flicker of it left behind.

It’s true that when Enzo Marchesi, the Capo of the Marchesi Famiglia, came to collect what he believed was owed to him for his cousin Franco’s death at Wesley’s hand, almost everyone who was involved disappeared without a trace. Luke’s connection to me saved him, and until this very moment, I would have been glad it had.

Now, seeing him again only tastes as bitter as his betrayal.

Luke tilts his head down to meet mine, his shaggy dark hair tickling my forehead while piercing green eyes hidden behind dark smudged liner watch me with adoration. His bottom lip and right eyebrow are both pierced, and a small diamond stud fits perfectly in one ear, giving me a glimpse of the guy I used to know.

A modern-day Captain Hook now dressed in a three-piece suit instead of his usual black shirt and leather pants. The Lost Boy finally grew the fuck up. Too bad he still chose the wrong side.

A dazzling con artist in his day now a loathsome crook who’s unable to accept responsibility for his actions. Finding someone to blame was always his forte. At one point, I entertained the idea of us being more than what we were, but finding out he worked alongside Wesley and practically worshiped the bastard, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him the same.

Still as gorgeous as he was then, yet there’s something different about him. However, I can’t be stupid enough to brush off his alliance with Enzo, regardless of his reasons, and suddenly trust him. Even if every part of me wants to.

Familiarity breeds contempt, but it also kills you slowly. Guilty is the hand that helps you up only to stab you in the back, yet the only one to truly blame is the hand that accepted the help.

Luke leans in closer, as if reading my mind. He tenderly kisses my forehead, running his fingers through my windblown hair—the ends stiff and coated in dried blood, yet the roots are now soaked from the rain. I involuntarily lean into his palm, his fingers gently caressing my wet cheek.

Despite what he’s said, it feels good to see a familiar face amidst the chaos I’ve endured in the past twenty-four hours. “I’m so sorry, Wynnie,” he whispers against my cheek. “I should have come to you, should have told you sooner, but I need you to trust me now. I’ll get you out.”

Betrayal stings, as his false apology only makes it all worse. He could have been my one confidant here, the friend I so desperately needed in New York. My savior, who could have risked it all for me. Instead, he stayed hidden and watched as Enzo made my life a living hell.

I push further away from him, trying to steady myself on my feet while I struggle to keep my balance in these goddamn heels. “I don’t need your pity, Luke. Now that my life hangs on a fucking tightrope, you decide to man up and help me. Where were you the last three years? When he tortured me like one of his prisoners? When he had me locked in his tower like an animal, only letting me out when he saw fit?”

Pain stains his sad eyes, but he stands there like a dog with his tail between his legs, knowing damn right it’s true. He was a fucking coward.

“I was weak, a pathetic coward who wasn’t brave enough to stand up against him, but I won’t stand back anymore. I’ll help you escape.”

A snide chuckle leaves my lips at the irony of his response.

Bright lights gleam in the distance, illuminating him in a heavenly glow as the city prepares to awaken. The sky is once again still. “Easy for you to say now that he’s fucking dead.” I close my eyes in fear I may have just made things worse for myself.

It hurts that he didn’t protect me, but deep down, I know I shouldn't be so hard on him. What choice did he really have, standing up against one of the most dangerous men in existence? He had a code to follow once he became part of Enzo’s crew. It’s my life or his and I’m not so sure I’m worthy of that kind of sacrifice.

Luke takes two steps toward me, and if I wasn’t already at the edge of the roof, I’d take two steps back to keep my distance. “I’ll cover this up, make it look like it was a hit. Enzo has plenty of enemies. They can drive themselves mad trying to figure out which Famiglia it was.”

I shake my head hesitantly. His plan is too dangerous. “That would start a war, Luke. They’d all come after you.”

For the first time in three years, I feel something other than despair.

Hope. My escape is just out of reach, yet I’d be a fool to think it would come so easily and without consequence.

Luke’s hand interlocks with mine as his thumb runs circles along my palm. “We all deserve much worse for all we’ve done to you.”

It’s too bad what they say about hope—it breeds eternal misery. Only thinking left to find out, will it be my salvation or punishment?