Precious Legacy (The Notorious Legacy #1)

Chapter 39

THIRTY-NINE

M osaique is quickly becoming my favorite nightclub. As much as I love the free drinks that come with being best friends with the Gambinos, the atmosphere here is what really sucks you in. The music is a cross between heavy metal and carnival, matching the interior and general theme of the place. Every now and then, the DJ throws in a random track to get the crowd hyped—like right now, he’s playing a remix of Britney Spears. Servers waltz around the club, scantily clad in black coattails and heels, a top hat finishing the ensemble perfectly. Every member of staff that’s walked past me wears eyeliner, smudged perfectly to give off a seductive vibe, and ruby red lips that make them look irresistible, and ringmaster outfits that leave little to the imagination.

The bar is teeming with clearly underaged patrons, but I sense the Russians don’t give a shit when it comes to the law, because nobody is getting ID’d or kicked out. Everyone is getting served quickly, so we don’t have to wait too long before Haven and I are ordering some crazy colored cocktails that looks like they’ll give us hangovers from one sip.

We’re gradually making our way through the drinks menu, apparently, because Haven has already lined up what we’re drinking next. We’ve been here for a few hours, and between the dancing and drinking, we’re working up a sweat. It feels good to let off steam after a long week. It’s been a hell of one.

“Here!” Haven sings, passing me a bright orange drink. It smells weirdly like sunshine and oranges with a minty tone that seems to clear my airways with one sniff. I eye it up dubiously, glancing back at my best friend, but she’s already sipping hers and humming.

“Haven, what is this?”

“Just shut up and drink it!” She shoves the straw into my mouth, giving me no room for argument.

I do as I’m told, taking a long sip and letting the orange and menthol burn my tongue. I wince for a moment, but then another taste invades my senses. Lavender? No, it’s sweeter. Whatever it is, it hides the alcohol, and I’m certain this’ll be the drink that has me on the floor. Between these and the shots we’ve been throwing back, it’s only a matter of a time, but I know I need this. I need to get out of my head and try to have some fun.

Since rescuing Prescott from Roman’s wrath, he’s been MIA. I don’t expect him to be launching into full training mode anytime soon given his current lack of sight, but every time I step through the doors to the academy, a strange feeling washes over me, like a sense of foreshadowing is trying to make itself known.

Haven says I’m being stupid, which is why she suggested we cut loose tonight. While I don’t hate her for bringing me here, I’m constantly checking my surroundings, which is enough to piss her off. It’s probably the reason she’s been plying me with so much alcohol—to stop me being such a killjoy.

“Come on,” she groans, dragging me onto the dance floor. “Forget about this week and just dance!”

I laugh at her as she wiggles her ass in her bright green dress that clings to her figure. She’s so carefree and full of energy, beautiful inside and out. But what I love the most about her is that she has this way of pulling me out of whatever mood I’m in, distracting me from whatever is running through my mind.

Throwing her hands up in the air, she tosses her long brown hair over her shoulder and moves to the music. We jump around on the dance floor like complete idiots, swinging our arms and swaying our bodies. The soundtrack ‘Without Me’ by Eminem climbs the walls around us, and we go crazy. We laugh and joke, spinning each other around until we’re nauseous and giddy. Our faces and feet ache, but we don’t stop until we’re a sweating mess of hair and heels.

By the time the club is closing, the effects of our heavily alcohol-filled night are in full swing. We stagger outside, singing along to the last track that played before we were all kicked out and hail a taxi. It’s not long before we’re on our way back to my apartment, belting out ‘Mr. Brightside’, even though there’s no music playing in the cab.

We reach my apartment with croaky voices and smiles on our lips. I can honestly say that Haven’s attempt to distract me has worked, because I’ve long since forgotten about the weird ass week I’ve had.

I pay the driver as Haven jumps out onto the sidewalk, singing her own rendition of Britney Spears, ‘One More Time’. She’s not staying at my place, but clearly she’s too drunk to realize that.

“Get back!” I laugh, dragging her toward the cab. She giggles as I clip her seatbelt in, telling the driver where to take her.

The car is barely at the end of the street when my phone rings, Roman’s name flashing on the screen, and for some reason, my heart skips a happy leap. It’s been doing that a lot recently, and I’m still trying to ignore my true feelings for him. After everything that’s happened, I’m hesitant to say those three words back to him.

Though right now, the alcohol swimming through my system would probably argue with that, because the smile curling my lips as I press ‘answer’ says everything.

“Roman,” I sing as I stumble up to my apartment.

“You sound drunk,” he grumbles, but I can hear the playfulness in his tone.

Gripping the metal railing, I pull myself up the flight of stairs. “I am definitely drunk,” I laugh.

He chuckles back a deep and sexy laugh that goes straight to my pussy. How does he do that?

“Are you mad?” Pulling my keys from my clutch, I push it through the lock and twist.

“I will be if you’re not naked by the time I get to you.”

My pussy throbs with the promise underscoring his words. I chew on my lip as I think about how he’ll punish me if I don’t obey, and I have to say I’m more than excited. Perhaps he’ll brand my other thigh with his second initial, or maybe leave his mark somewhere else? I don’t know why the thought of his initials carved into my skin makes me hot and horny—nobody said love has to make sense—but it does. “Then I better do as I’m told,” I whisper seductively. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Soon,” he promises before hanging up.

Unlocking my door, I trip into the pitch black, frowning to myself as I reach for the light switch. I always leave a light on for this exact reason, and I’m struggling to find my way through the dark. Only the flickering bulbs outside my apartment guide me, but they’re pathetic and dull.

Then it hits me.

I freeze as an awareness washes over me like a sixth sense. I don’t exactly know what it is, but the hairs on the back of my neck stand up in warning.

I’ve barely recognized it when pain explodes in my head, forcing me to drop to the floor with a loud thud. I groan as I feel my way through my apartment. What the fuck is happening? But everything is dark, and the sparks crossing over my vision are making me nauseous.

The door slams behind me before I’m immediately doused in light. It’s so harsh that my head throbs and my eyes squint to make out what the fuck is going on. The room is tilted though, and for some reason, I can’t manage to push myself upright. My pulse pounds in my ears, my sweaty palms dragging across the floor before a boot connects with my ribs.

I scream out, but the sound gets caught when metal is forced into my mouth. The smell of musty aftershave mixed with the tang of metal burns my nose. I wince through the erratic breaths that seem to sear through my lungs as fear warps me.

Slowly, my vision returns, but it’s not the clarity I was hoping for. As soon as my eyes land on my attacker, I know it’ll be on me to get out of this situation.

“Your boyfriend’s not here to save you this time,” Prescott sneers.

My pulse continues to race, my mouth going dry. I try to form the words to respond, but they’re stuck in my throat, along with his gun. Roman might be on his way, but I don’t know how long he’ll be.

Shoving Prescott’s gun away, I scowl up at him from where I’m sprawled across the floor. “What… are.. you… doing here?” I rasp through shaky breaths.

Gripping my hair, he yanks me to my knees. The sting of pain ripples over my scalp as he tears strands from it. He leans down to my face as his lips curl with malicious intent. There’s so much venom in his glare that I can feel it sobering me up. Even with a patch over his eye, Prescott doesn’t look like someone I want to test boundaries with right now. “Payback.”

I don’t have time to register his words, because what happens next literally knocks me sideways. It’s a blur of rage and agony as Prescott lunges for me. His fist hits my face once, twice, before he pins me beneath his body. Blood fills my mouth as I try to block the blows, but the alcohol still running through my body makes my movements sloppy.

“Such a shame,” he snarls, pinning me beneath him. “You were my best student.”

I kick and flail, trying everything I can to get out of his hold. Digging my heels into the floor is near impossible since the damn floorboards are worn so thin that there’s nothing to grip onto. I can’t kick my shoes off because of the damn zips on my boots and there’s nothing in the vicinity that I can use as a weapon. I only have my strength—which isn’t much right now—and self defense. So, I do the only thing I can.

Blindly, I throw my elbow out. I don’t aim, I just throw. It catches him off guard, giving me enough time to throw another fist, since bucking him off my body is proving too hard in my state.

Prescott grunts as I catch his jaw in an effort to force some distance between us. His head snaps sideways and for a split second, I think he might be reconsidering his next move. But when his face turns back to mine, his anger is replaced with something feral; something dangerous and uncaged.

His hands grip my throat, my body pinned to the hard wood beneath me. I gasp and cough, choking on nothing as spots dance through my vision. Panic sets in as he tightens his hold on my throat.

“ W hat’re you doing here, gorgeous?” a tall guy asks as he approaches me.

I back away carefully, instantly regretting coming here. But I just couldn’t deal with how Roman and I left things, or the fact that he’s choosing the mafia over me. I thought we were in a good place. He promised he wouldn’t leave me, and he’s doing just that. He’s running like a goddamn coward, unable to keep his word.

The Ravenite is still pumping out tunes and the road that sits between me and the club feels too far away. My heart pounds against my chest as I glance between the three guys stalking me like prey. I reach into the bag, only the thing I’m searching for isn’t there.

Shit.

I never go anywhere without it. Not just because Roman gave it to me, but because it’s the one thing that could save me, especially right now.

“Want to have some fun?” another guy smirks, his blonde hair flapping in the cool breeze. He has dark eyes, the color of shadows that you want to hide from. His lips are curled into a sinister smirk as he backs me against the wall to the alley.

Panic wraps around my throat as I glance out into the street, but it’s late; too late for anyone to see us and too quiet for anyone to intervene. Not even Baz is at his regular spot guarding the door, which means he must be handling some other shit.

“No,” I snap. “And if you touch me, I’ll make sure you regret it.” I raise my fists defensively, recalling everything I’ve learned so far from Roman and my Aunt Lexie. While I’m not a professional, I’ve been able to get myself out of a few difficult holds. But that was one person, and right now I’m staring at three, hoping they heed my warning.

They all burst out laughing, one even pressing a hand against the wall as he bends at the waist and clutches his stomach.

“Wow!” the third guy chuckles. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and there’s a softness to them that is oddly attractive. He’s more muscular than the others, with broad shoulders that make him look like he’s carrying carpets, and he looks like he carries himself well. Not well enough though if he’s preying on innocent women outside a nightclub, though.

He swipes a hand through his brown hair. The action looks so harmless, yet the way his gaze darkens has me uncertain. “I enjoy challenges.”

My brows furrow, but I don’t get the chance to respond as I’m slammed against the wall by somebody, my brain feeling like it’s shattering into a million pieces. My vision goes red, and not in the angry sense. Hot liquid gushes over my eyes, and I press hard with my sleeve to stop the blood, but it’s not enough.

My body tilts and explosive agony crashes through it from all angles. My head, my arms, my ribs and stomach. I whimper and cry, but a hand cups my mouth, silencing any sound. Another set of hands pin my wrists against the ground and I try so hard to scream that I feel as if my chest might cave with pain.

Air whips at my thighs as my jeans are torn from my body. Shock is the only thing keeping me alert.

Or so I think.

Before I can protest about what I know is going to happen, I’m crashing into more pain. My body is pounded with fists and feet until I’m boneless and numb.

“Shit,” the guy above me panics. “Do you know who this is?”

“Who the fuck cares, just do it!”

T he fear of dying is always a motivator, but how you harness that fear is something not everyone has the luxury of understanding. My aunt taught me so much, but the one thing I’ll always remember is when you think you’ve got nothing left, that’s when fear changes you.

I try to think of everything I’ve learned from Lexie; from chokeholds to being pinned down. Prescott doesn’t have shit on my aunt when it comes to fighting. His aim is clearly to kill. Mine is to survive.

Letting one hand fall away, I slide it over the hardwood. My vision is impaired, but I don’t need it to know what’s just within my reach. My lungs ache as I try to hold on a little longer. Just long enough.

I try to reach out further, until my arm aches and it feels like my fingers are being pulled from my limb. Tears stream down my face, but I don’t stop, not until the tips of my fingers brush against lethal coldness.

Bang.

Blood sprays my face as my ears ring.

For a moment, time stands still. It’s almost in slow motion how everything plays out; like I’m not really in the room at all. I’m somewhere else, disassociated from what the hell just happened. I freeze, eyes wide as Prescott’s body drops on top of mine and the coppery tang of blood drips into my mouth.

I can hear footsteps, but I don’t know where they’re coming from.

I can hear a voice, but I don’t know who it belongs to.

I can feel the weight on my chest disappear as if it was never there at all, but I don’t think I can move.

I’m numb, lost in confusion and shock. I’ve felt this way before. Once, when I woke up in a hospital with Haven by my side. She held my hand and told me what’d happened and I swear, I felt like I wasn’t in my body at all.

That’s just how I feel now as my body is lifted off the ground, like I’m floating through the air. There’s a distinct scent that fills my senses, replacing the rancid smell of blood and calming me. It’s nice. It feels safe. Like home.

But I can’t open my eyes to take everything in. At least I’m warm.

Breathe.

Hot.

Breathe.

I’m sweating.

Breathe.

My lungs expand and it feels like I’m taking a breath for the first time as I blink back droplets of water.

A hand rubs my back, my face, pushing away wet strands. I shake as I peer up at whoever those hands belong to and find the most perfect eyes staring back at me. Blue eyes the color of a tropical ocean, a sea of tranquility that seems to sooth my soul gaze down with so much fear that I’m scared they’re not real.

Are you real?

Roman lips curve into a soft smile, the crinkles on either side of his eyes making me exhale.

“I’m real, baby.”