Hacked and Hallowed (Stolen Obsessions #3.5)

2. Tati

CHAPTER 2

TATI

Dante bends to kiss me. I know it ’ s the last time, and my heart pounds so hard it thumps behind my eyes. His kiss is soft and gentle. I can ’ t help but fall into it. He ’ s never been pushy with me. If anything, it ’ s been the other way around. I pursued him.

Rosario, the low-level Italian mafioso, found me in the strip club. I ’ d only been dancing there a week, but I was broke enough to whore myself out for the first time, finally following in my mother ’ s footsteps. He gave me a different kind of job. One that ’ s likely worse for my soul.

The message telling me the money has been wired to my account burns in my pocket. I should check that ’ s it ’ s really there. I need it if I don ’ t want to end up back where I started—about to drop out of school and willing to fuck for money. But is what I ’ m doing worse? Will being a murderer tarnish my soul further in the end?

With his lips against mine, I ’ m sure the answer is yes.

Domalachego, the Bratva Pakan who will take the fall for this, sits in position a few miles down the road. He doesn ’ t know about this coup. He thinks he ’ s buying arms from the Italians, but if everything goes as planned, he ’ ll be the one to take the blame.

I ’ m out of money for school. My mom can ’ t pay her rent and will wind up back on the street with a needle in her arm. I enable her, but my dad is dead to me, and I can ’ t bear to be an orphan so soon. Every time I turn around, there are medical debts and bills. I ’ ll never get free. I ’ m out of good options and unsure how I got in this deep. Why does it have to be me or him?

He ends the kiss, and I feel much more conflicted than my thoughts sound, like there ’ s not a good reason in the world for betraying him. Bourbon-brown eyes glow in excitement from the kiss, then his brows furrow as he takes in my expression.

A soft hand lingers on my cheek. “ Don ’ t be nervous. I thought dating a Bratva girl would mean you ’ re less skittish about these things.”

Another lie. I ’ m just the bastard daughter one of their higher-ups made with his preferred whore, but I don ’ t tell Dante that either.

“ I ’ m not nervous.”

“ Don ’ t lie, it doesn ’ t suit you.”

Doesn ’ t it? Everything is a lie.

One more kiss, then he hops inside the truck, starts it, and puts it into gear.

“ I ’ ll see you later for the party, Tati.”

“ I ’ ll see you later.”

He pulls away.

His kiss burns my lips as I send him straight to his death. Changing my mind as he reaches the end of the drive, I wave my hands and shout for him to come back. He doesn ’ t see me from his vantage point or hear my shouts over the rumbling of the truck. My regret came too late, and he takes the turn. My phone shakes in my hands as I call him, but it goes straight to voicemail.

Panic courses through my blood, like the worst thing in the world is coming and I need to stop it, but I ’ m its cause. What have I done?

The scenery changes, like time is slipping in chunks, and a concussive blast shakes the trees and the ground beneath my feet. Smoke billows into the air, and Dante ’ s screams of agony tear up the mountainside.

Dante ’ s burning flesh rolls on the breeze, choking me. The loading dock disappears, replaced by a wall of flames ten feet high. I’m not trapped in a memory anymore, but my own imagination. Dante screams beside me, but I can’t move, I’m buckled in, finally about to die exactly where I belong.

I wake up screaming, my mouth dry and my throat an inferno of pain. My door flies open, the hall light blinding me as my new roommate, Katie, steps inside holding a bat.

“Get the fuck out of here, creep job!” She brandishes the weapon, but I have no clue who she’s speaking to. The source of my nightmares is me.

“It’s just me, Katie. I’m fine. I’m sorry.” Swallowing the lump in my throat, I offer her a sheepish smile. It must have sounded like someone was murdering me, so I’m not surprised she’s upset, but the ghost haunting my dreams is just a dead man. Dante can’t hurt me. I’m the one who did the hurting.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Tatiana! I told you I’m jumpy after what happened with my last roommate!” Her hand flies to her heart as she tries to catch her breath and lowers the bat to the ground. Her silvery-blond hair sits piled on her head, mussed from sleep. I’m still not sure what happened with the last girl she lived with, or her best friend who left school before that, but she made it clear when I moved in that she won’t be losing a third person to any “bullshit.”

“It was just a nightmare. I’m really sorry.” I try to clear my throat, but it cracks painfully. “I should have warned you. This happens sometimes, especially when I’m stressed.” A big move, a new school, going for my masters, Halloween coming. It’s brought up a lot of regrets and memories.

“If this is a common thing, then, yeah, you should have.” She sighs. “It’s fine. I’ve got class in a few hours, so I’m going back to sleep. I guess I’ll get ear plugs or something,” she mutters the last part as she slams the door and walks away.

“I’m really sorry,” I call after her, but she probably can’t hear me, and I decide not to bother her any further.

The clock on the bedside table reads 4:30 a.m., OCT 30. A sorority on Greek Row is having a party tonight before the massive Halloween Crawl tomorrow, and Katie has been bugging me to go with her for weeks. This is her first party since whatever happened with her roommate on Valentine’s Day, but that might be canceled now. Screaming night terrors hardly say “stable wing woman”.

My head drops into my hands as I groan. It would be stupid and pointless to attempt more sleep with the images lurking in my subconscious, especially if I’m not trying to chase Katie away. Climbing out of bed, I flip on the light to clear out the last of the nightmare. Two years later, the images are as vivid as if it happened yesterday. The guilt, however, only grows in intensity as time passes.

I really liked Dante before luring him to his gruesome death, but a fondness for him ultimately didn’t matter; I took care of myself.

I sit down at the edge of my bed and strip my sweat-soaked clothes as my eyes adjust to the light. My past plays in higher definition than the room directly in front of me, and I shake my head hard to try to clear it. Did I really let him die for a bit of money? Yes, but at the time, I thought that equaled freedom and security.

I am using the money for my education. I’m not a whore or a dropout, just a sellout. My mother lived a few months longer than him, before she lost her battle with addiction. So, I used some of the money to bury her too. I guess I got what I wanted, right?

But I’m not free or safe. My crimes are their own cage, my fear of exposure a constant itch. How quickly would I lose everything I’ve worked and cheated for if people knew the truth? I’m not like my fucking Bratva father, lacking the conviction to enjoy my ill-gotten gains. My self-disgust is so expected, so complete, I’m almost bored as I grab a towel before heading to the shower.

I’m clean, wrapped in that towel, and sitting at my desk a half hour later. My hands shake as I boot my laptop and wonder once again why my life was worth more than his. The stakes felt so much higher when I had my mom to worry about too. Halloween was always her favorite holiday, and I would have used some of the money to buy her decorations, but now I’m alone, and Halloween is the anniversary of my greatest act of cruelty.

School , I remind myself, the one bit of good to come out of everything I’ve done. The education he died for will help people. With a series of assignments due this week, I’m checking emails from my professors and responding to a few TAs. I’m nearly done when I come across one that stops me in my tracks and has my blood running cold.

The subject line reads:

“Hey, Little Backstabber. It’s almost our two-year anniversary…”

I blink at the screen a couple of times before considering opening it. I’m still dreaming, that’s the only thing that makes sense. There’s no way a dead man wrote me an email. Unless…

The Gemellis are finally coming for me.

Fuck.

Of course the rumors have reached me, but I was never crazy enough to believe Dante was the one killing the men responsible. Mafia men die hard, and they had plenty of enemies. Who knows what else they did to warrant a horrible end. As far as I know, the Bouchards are making a solid effort for full control of the territory. That’s what I’ve comforted myself with, but this email glares, and I’m forced to confront something I’ve long feared.

What if I’m one of the names on that list?

My hand shakes as I click it open.

Betrayal is cold

Explosions are red

I ’ ll come down your throat before I cut off your head.

My heart stumbles as it attempts to gallop clean out of my chest, thinking it can save itself if I’m left behind. My mouth fills with saliva like I might vomit, and my eyes flood with tears. The kiss for a signature has my lips tingling at the memory of Dante’s mouth pressed to mine before he left me to meet his death.

This is a nightmare. This isn’t real, right? How can I calm myself down when I don’t believe I’m sleeping anymore? Not after talking to Katie and taking a shower. Plus, the nightmares are terribly predictable, and this is brand new.

Someone must have found out what I did. But who? The Gemellis are on the decline but still more than powerful enough to make me pay. I’m not entirely cut off from my father’s contacts, but I stay away from them, wanting no one suspicious of my suddenly altered lot in life.

A forensic accountant could see I received the money. I moved it through a few accounts, but it won’t take an expert long to figure out where that money came from. Someone has been looking for the men responsible, but I’ve never even seen a Gemelli Goon near campus. I’ve allowed myself to hope my part in all this has been forgotten.

Whoever this is has a poetic sense of justice. Dante’s not alive or coming for my head. He’s certainly not planning to fuck me before I die. However, fucking him once before finally leaving all this wretched guilt behind appeals to me in the sickest way.

I’ll survive whoever is coming for me, like I always do. If disappearing wouldn’t cost me everything, I’d leave this second, but I’m not ready to lose it all, even if there is a fucked-up part of me that wants to pay for what I’ve done.

The next few hours pass as I do my schoolwork, ignoring that it may be some of the last I turn in. As I dress for class, I pretend that email never came. Contingency plans run through my head even though I try to quiet them. I’ve been making them for years, praying I’d never have to use them.

Is someone watching me now? Did his family pretend to ignore his death just to hack all those people apart in a much more dramatic fashion? Will someone actually fuck my face before cutting off my head? And why is part of me relieved by finally paying for my sins? I don’t think I’m suicidal.

This guilt has been a heavy weight these last two years. Every dollar spent is a piece of my soul chipped away and traded for something material. What was my soul worth before I debased it so completely? Can I be saved by running now or am I beyond too late?

Question after question barrage me until I’m forced to give up and walk to class early. The chilly October air swirls around me, smelling like fresh leaves and far-off sunshine. I should be enjoying my favorite season, but eyes follow me the whole way. Every time I look over my shoulder, I catch a shadow, but no one’s actually there.

The heart of campus swarms with people. A group of freshmen bump me as I pass and don’t even realize it’s so dense in some places, but this sensation is different. Someone is following me, and I get my proof when I dart to the left and that shadow interrupts the light in the shape of a rather large man.

As I head to the cafe at the edge of campus to grab myself a latte and a pastry, I’m obsessing over the shadow. Could whoever’s following me really be as large as they appeared or was it an optical illusion? Dante was big like that.

The sensation of being watched fades as the door shuts behind me, and I exhale fully for the first time all morning. A little too much heat wafts over me, but I’m chilled to the bone and grateful for whoever keeps it so high this early in the season. The line is long enough to eat fifteen minutes, and I carefully watch everyone who comes and goes as I wait.

“Thank you,” I tell the barista as I take the items, then find a table in the back corner that offers a view of the whole cafe. I don’t eat or drink as I stare at the door, waiting for whoever it is to come inside. They never do, and I drop the coffee and croissant in the trash as I leave to head to class on time.

Is there a chance someone wants to extort me rather than kill me? Someone could be playing a cruel prank. Maybe his sister found out what I did and thought this would be a fun way to get back at me. The poem seems like a more delicate hand than most Mafia men I’ve known. That doesn’t track either. She’s the textbook definition of clueless and sheltered. Maybe his father finally wants some retribution for his only son.

None of these suggestions feel correct, nor do they give me any peace. That email felt personal with the intense sexual suggestion. Who did I insult in their organization? Who knows I used to strip or how far I was about to go before my escape?

“Are you paying attention, Miss Sokolov?” my professor asks, interrupting the deeply self-obsessed daydream I’ve been nursing for the better part of this hour. Much like the café, I’m sure I’m safe here. There’s no one in this class paying particular attention to me, no giant shadowed men.

“Of course,” I say before registering if there was another part to his question, and the entire class giggles. They all stare, but I can’t find the normal embarrassment beneath the fear. Is someone waiting outside the door?

“Then why have I called your name three times now?” he asks, raising a brow.

“I guess I’m like Bloody Mary or Candy Man,” I state as my eyes dart to the clock.

“Candy Man was five times, Miss Sokolov. Try better next time.”

This time, I turn pink when everyone laughs but ignore the way my professor stares. The hour ends, and I grab my book and bag in a hurry, flying out the door before he can stop me for whatever lecture he’s gearing up to. Leaving his class isn’t an improvement. The next one goes just as poorly, though the professor leaves me alone, and the rest of the day blurs with every hulking shadow reminding me of Dante and the Italians in his employ.

Dante is dead , I remind myself again and again.

My walk from campus to our building passes quickly since master’s students have priority placement, and the shadow never seems to catch up to me. The spacious brick has a modern feel compared to the smaller underclassmen dorms, and I deflate with relief when they come into view.

As I head through the sliding glass door of the lobby, I smile at the RA standing guard. We don’t have the same rules as the underclassmen, but we still have a little security and help if we need it.

“I’m not expecting any visitors,” I tell her as I take out my key to access the elevators. She gives me an odd look and shrugs. The doors open and I step inside, but just before they close, I’m sure I catch a flash of someone large watching the building from the sidewalk.

My ride ends quickly, and the hall is mercifully empty, but my hands shake so hard that I struggle to fit the key into my lock.

Before I manage it, the doors swing open in front of me, ripping the key out of my hands as I shriek. Katie matches my reaction, and our screams draw a few people into the hall before we realize we sound like idiots and are drawing unwanted attention.

She grabs me by the shoulder, pulls me inside, and slams the door shut behind us, visibly annoyed with my reaction and the scene. Her long blonde hair slips out of the chopstick bun she prefers at home, and her cheerleader sweats have her much more prepared to run from an attacker than me. She even looks like the more desirable target. Too bad I’m the awful person.

“One of us is going to get hurt if we’re both this jumpy,” she says as she heads to the table where she has her outfit and accessories for the night laid out.

As I go to hang my bag and coat, her gaze burns a hole into the side of my face.

“Are you all right?” she asks.

I ignore her and turn to grab something from the fridge. I’ve eaten nothing all day, and the worry is making me sick.

“I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You look a little green.”

“It’s Halloween tomorrow, and I’m a nervous person. Not much more complicated than that.” Fuck, I’d trade my remaining money for that to be true.

“I get that…”

“But?” I ask, prompting her to get to the point she’s been flirting with.

“I know you don’t want to go to this party, but hear me out.” She keeps her hands up and palms out like she’s approaching a cornered animal. “I think it would be good for both of us to get out of this?—”

I close the door to the fridge, the bottles rattling inside, and say, “Okay.” Sitting alone in this dorm and questioning every movement outside my window doesn’t sound so appealing all of a sudden. I’m sure to be safer in a crowd.

“Okay?” Her blonde brows crumple, her suspicions diminishing the pleasure of her success. Her hands find her hips. “What do you mean ‘okay’?”

“Yes, I accept, let’s go,” I clarify with a little sarcasm.

Katie scowls at me, but I turn my back on her and head to my room to change. I’ve got an idea for a skirt to wear, but I’m not sure what to pair with it just yet. She follows a couple steps behind, waiting in the doorway as I head into my room. Her nervous energy worsens mine, but I ignore her as I throw open my closet. I start to pull things out and place them on the bed.

“Don’t you have to do your hair or something?”

Her hand moves to her hair. “I thought I’d have to work on you.”

“I had a stressful day, I just want to relax.” That’s not entirely a lie.

“A party is suddenly your idea of relaxing?”

I pull the skirt out and go back to digging for a matching top.

“More relaxing than sitting home alone, right?”

Her lips purse, but she doesn’t argue despite still not being convinced.

“Do you need to borrow something?” Katie asks.

My wardrobe is nearing its end, and I’ve not found the piece I’m looking for. Maybe I left it at my mom’s last summer before she died.

“Come on, Katie.” I roll my eyes as I kneel in front of my dresser. We can both see I’m thirty pounds heavier. “I can’t borrow your clothes.”

“I have things you can borrow,” she insists.

After finding the cute pair of orange-and-black striped, knee-high socks I was looking for, I’m starting to think I’ll be putting on a band T-shirt and a hoodie. Not the worst thing imaginable, but I’ll look out of place.

“I have something I think might work,” she says, but doesn’t wait for me to respond as she heads to her bedroom.

She comes back a couple of minutes later and tosses a tiny corset top at me,

“This isn’t going to fit.” I hold the black fabric bones and ribbon up between us.

“It’s a corset. The whole point is that they fit anyone. Just put it on!” She waves her hands at me. “Is an hour enough time?”

“More than, but?—”

The door slams shut between us.

We finish getting ready, and I’m shocked to find the top does fit, in the strictest sense of the word, but it’s like my tits are on a shelf.

I step out of my room, and Katie’s jaw drops.

“Damn, I do not look like that in that corset.”

“Don’t flatter me.”

“I’m not. I wish I had your tits.”

We leave the apartment together and walk the short distance to the sorority hosting the party. My cleavage is half frozen by the time we arrive, but I have turned a few heads.

The day and that email have left me shredded by anxiety, and the lies I’ve built my entire life on are icing on the cake. I don’t know that I even have room for insecurities about my appearance also, until we’re surrounded by other party goers, and I realize just how much I stand out. All of these girls are thin and beautiful. No matter how hard you smush my tits together, I’ll never compare to them. I look stupid for trying.

We climb the steps and head inside the house, but the stares I fear never come. Orange and purple lights flash, bats hang from the ceilings, jack-o-lanterns spill dry ice steam from their mouths and eyes, and music blasts through the speakers. Dante and I were supposed to meet at a Halloween party later that night, at least that’s what I told him. I can’t think of this holiday without being overcome with memories of him.

We move through the dense pack of bodies to get the door to close behind us. Katie says, “Hi” to a few girls, and some even wave to me. I find a lot more male attention aimed at me than I’m accustomed to. A couple people glance at my chest and waist. Are they admiring or judging? Would I be judging if I were them? I’m too nervous to really enjoy this attention.

“Loosen up, Tati. Everything is going to be fine.”

I jump as she speaks in my ear. At first, I think Katie just sees how worked up I am, but she grabs my wrist a little too firmly, like she’s the one who needs the reassurance. Whatever happened with her last roommate started at a frat party. Her smile pinches around the corners and tears glisten her eyes.

I defrost immediately as a result of her needing me to be the strong one. People are watching me, but unlike earlier, it’s for the right reasons. I can do this if I’m doing it for someone else. Putting on a big smile, I remove my wrist from her grip and wrap my arm around her instead.

“Loosen up how?”

“Drinks?” She shrugs beneath my embrace and waves to the freshman hounding the bartender.

“Yeah, drinks! You said loosen up, right?”

She nods.

“Let’s get loose .”