Finding sin a deadliest.., p.1
Finding Sin (A Deadliest Sin Series Prequel), page 1
FINDING SIN
A DEADLIEST SIN SERIES PREQUEL
GWYN MCNAMEE
CONTENTS
Prologue - Rea
1. Rea
2. Konstandin
3. Rea
4. Konstandin
5. Konstandin
6. Rea
7. Konstandin
8. Konstandin
9. Rea
10. Konstandin
11. Rea
12. Konstandin
13. Konstandin
14. Rea
Epilogue – Konstandin
About the Author
PROLOGUE - REA
My life is over.
Almost as if the sky understands what’s happening, the black clouds above swirl and release a menacing rumble that shakes the car and rattles the very fiber of my being.
The moment we stop moving and Father opens the door, it's just fucking over.
All of it.
My hopes. My dreams. My freedom. Gone in the snap of his fingers and without a second thought.
If I believed, for one damn second, that I had any chance of succeeding, I would grab for the gun Father keeps at his hip and use it to end my inevitable suffering before it starts, before he turns me over to that man.
That monster.
My future husband.
But Father’s watching me too closely for that. He knows me too well. Knows I'll do anything to escape this. Knows I'll fight.
Which is precisely why the bastard made sure I can't resist. His threat was clear. It isn't just the family business at stake. It's Mother's life, too.
He's cruel enough to terrorize her to get me to comply. He has no qualms about using me as a pawn in this sinister game. He doesn't give one fuck if I’m beaten or raped, or anything else happens to me, as long as he gets what he wants.
How can he call himself my father?
This isn’t the man I remember as a child. That man was aloof and not around much, but he was never cruel to me. Maybe he was to others behind closed doors. I’m sure he was…now that I know who he is. But he always hid it, hid what he did, from me. Kept me insulated from the violence and deceptions that are part of his world.
Until he needed something only I could provide…
And now, there’s no more time to consider what my future looks like. The tires squeal as the car turns the final corner, and we pull up in front of the looming house. The red brick and perfect black shutters look inconspicuous enough, but I know what hides inside. I know the terror that lurks within.
At least, I think I do.
Tarek Morina is ruthless. Cold. The type of killer you never want to cross, and now, he'll be my husband. The man who holds Philadelphia in his sinister hands will have mine in marriage—no matter how much I don’t want it. No one fights back against the Albanian mob. Not if they want to survive.
Maybe I don’t want to…
Not if it means this kind of life.
Father glances over from his seat next to me in the back of the car and places his hand over mine on my leg. “It will be okay, Rea.”
I jerk my hand out from under his, swipe away the tears, and glare at him. If he’s going to make me do this, I’m not going along with it without him knowing exactly what he’s doing to me. He will see and know my pain. “How can you say that? How can you say that, knowing what you're sending me into?”
His face doesn't soften for even a second. The hard, craggy lines created by years of smoking and stress deepen, but only because he's angry at me for even voicing it. Not because he feels bad for what he's done.
“I've said it a hundred times, Rea, and this is the last time. You will go. You will walk up those steps. You will kiss your fiancé. You will do whatever the fuck he asks of you. You will be a good wife. You will give him children and whatever else he wants. You will make him happy at any cost. Because if you don't, we will all suffer the consequences.” He leans closer, like it will make his words hit home harder. “I need this alliance with Tarek. I need the Morinas to secure our foothold and the future of the family. There are threats on every side now, and we need this. Do you understand me?”
“No.” I shake my head, fighting back the sob that threatens to climb up my throat. It won’t do any good, anyway. “I don't understand how you can call yourself a father when you're doing this to me—”
The car door next to me opens, and I jerk away and glance out it to find my worst nightmare staring down at me.
Tarek’s hard amber eyes that almost darken to a black as he looks down at me match the ones I saw in the photographs of him, only they’re even more soulless in real life. The corners of his mouth twist into a grin that sends a shiver down my spine unlike anything I've ever felt before—one that goes deep into my soul, into the very core of me.
I’ll never survive this.
“Rea…” He holds out a hand for me, but it isn’t a gentlemanly offer. It’s more of a command.
I shrink away from him, but Father nudges me forward.
It’s time.
I can’t run from this.
I can’t hide.
This is the end.
I reluctantly place my shaking hand in Tarek’s, and he squeezes and pulls me roughly from the car, jerking me onto my feet on the wet pavement. The light rain falling chills my exposed skin in the lowcut, sleeveless dress Father insisted I wear, goosebumps spreading like wildfire. I stumble into Tarek’s arms, and he wraps one around my waist and takes my chin in his hand, squeezing until it's almost painful.
“Your father was right. You are quite stunning. Like a little porcelain doll.” He leans in and brushes his lips to my ear. “I can't wait to fucking break you.”
I choke back a sob and push against his hard chest, trying to get away from him, but he only tightens his grip on my chin until his fingers dig into the sensitive flesh there.
“The more you fight me, the more I'll like it.”
Tears well in my eyes, and this time, I can't brush them away. With my hands pinned between us, I’m completely at his mercy. Exactly how he wants it.
“Goodbye, Rea.” Father's voice from behind makes me freeze.
Tarek drags his attention away from me and over my shoulder to look at him. “It's been a pleasure doing business with you.”
“I look forward to working with you and the Morina fis.”
My future husband inclines his head toward Father, and the car door slams behind me, sealing my fate.
A flash of movement behind Tarek draws my focus that way. Another set of hard eyes meet mine, on a face identical to my new fiancé’s. Only, these are different. Not the endless sea of nothingness from a man with no soul.
These hold something in their depths, so deep you might miss it if you’re not searching for it. A hint of humanity. A flicker of regret. Maybe compassion.
Though none of that could come from the man who must be Tarek’s brother. I must be hallucinating. Just wishful thinking from a mind flooded with fear and searching for anything to hold on to.
The man offers me a tight, grim smile, almost like he knows what Tarek has planned for me. There’s no way he couldn’t.
We hold each other’s gazes for a moment, and his eyes lighten with an almost golden hue before thunder rumbles overhead and straight through my body. It seems to shatter whatever moment passed between us, and he turns abruptly, walks to the car, pops the trunk, and grabs my bags, his tattoo-covered biceps bulging as he easily lifts them.
Tarek forces my attention back to him with his harsh grip. “Your old life is gone now. Your family. Your friends. All of it. You are mine. Do you understand me?”
My body shakes violently, a bone-deep chill that has nothing to do with the weather settling in.
He tightens his hold on my chin and jerks my head forward until his lips nearly brush mine, and I almost gag at the thought of him kissing me. “Answer me. Do. You. Understand?”
I incline my head a fraction of an inch, all that his hold will allow. “Ye-yes.”
“Good.”
He releases my chin but keeps his arm wrapped around me, then turns and guides me toward the house.
The other man waits at the top of the steps, just in front of the door of my new home, my bags in his hands, his strong, angular jaw set and locked. His shrewd gaze assesses every movement Tarek and I make, like he’s analyzing each step to find the purpose behind it.
We reach the top, stepping onto the concrete porch, and Tarek motions toward him.
“This is Konstandin, my brother, my kryetar, and the person I trust most. He's in charge of security, and he will ensure no one can get to you except me.” Tarek turns his head my way, that harsh gaze boring into me, almost daring me to question him or beg to leave. “And that you can't get the fuck out.”
He waves up at the house almost absently, like he isn’t pointing out the place that is to be my jail cell or that Konstandin isn’t my new warden.
“This is your new life, Rea. Learn to accept it.” Tarek leans in, his lips brushing my ear again. “Because while I like a fight, I'm only going to put up with so much. Do you understand me?”
I give him a sharp nod, and the world spirals around me, my vision going dark around the edges as the reality of my situation fully takes hold.
I was right.
My life is fucking over.
I should have reached for Father’s gun.
1
REA
TWO WEEKS AFTER ARRIVAL
No amount of scalding-hot water pelting my body will wash away the filth on my flesh everywhere that man touched me or this sense of nothingness that has overtaken every fiber of my being.
I scrub at my already red, raw skin, harder and harder, trying to scrape away the remnants of him that are now permanently seared into me. All it does is create more soapy suds that rinse off immediately and trickle down the drain in the shower, but it can’t remove any of what I’m trying desperately to rid myself of.
Maybe nothing will.
Despite the steam and heat in the bathroom, I can’t stop shaking, can’t stop feeling like a bucket of ice-cold water has been thrown over me, seeping deep into me, robbing me of any warmth.
It’s the same way I felt for the last few weeks every time Tarek was in the same room, even knowing he’s in the house. That man certainly lives up to his reputation. He has no qualms about taking what he believes is rightfully his—mainly me. He isn’t deterred in the least by the fact that I want nothing to do with him, that I just want to go home.
But that isn’t an option.
My fate was sealed the day Father took Tarek’s money and made the alliance with him. One I don’t understand. My entire life comes down to two men deciding their futures and using me like chattel in the business deal.
It doesn't matter what I want. Doesn't matter that we aren't even legally married yet. Father sold me to him—plain and simple—and now, I'm paying for it.
With my body and my sanity.
I shut off the water and step out of the shower, wrapping myself in the soft, luxuriousness of a plush towel, but even it can't help rid me of this chill. Nor can this beautiful room in this beautiful house, meant for comfort, meant to show off, meant to put its residents at ease, when it’s really nothing more than a beautiful prison. A gilded cage in which to keep a bird Tarek doesn’t want to fly away.
“This is Konstandin, my brother and the person I trust most. He's in charge of security, and he will ensure no one can get to you except me…and that you can't get the fuck out.”
Yet the man who looks exactly like my tormentor has essentially disappeared since the day I arrived, handed off that responsibility to others. One of those lackeys is undoubtedly standing outside the bedroom door I now stare at, guarding the long hallway to nowhere that I can’t even walk down without an escort. And even then, only to forced, awkward dinners sitting across the long table from the man determined to break me.
It’s my only escape from this room. That and my sleep…
Though that isn’t even safe.
I slowly lower myself to the bed and take a deep inhale. The last thing I need right now is to be reliving the nightmares that come more frequently than the good dreams, the ones that bear Tarek’s face, his voice, his smell. The ones that encompass even my waking hours.
This is my new reality, and I have to learn to accept it. Because I'm not going anywhere. Tarek and Konstandin make sure of that even when they aren’t here personally to tighten the noose around my neck.
At least I have a temporary break with the madman away on business for a few days. Hearing him say those words, telling me he would be gone for a while, sent a flood of relief through me unlike anything I’ve ever felt. The moment he left this room, I fled to the only safe space where I could try to wash away the memories.
Fruitless effort.
I muster up enough energy to rise from the bed and dress in the clothes Tarek filled the closet and drawers with, clothes he wants me to wear, ones he wants to see me in. Because other than Tarek and Konstandin’s men, no one else ever lays eyes on me.
We aren't even married yet, and Tarek has already demonstrated his true colors. He has since the second I arrived. He doesn’t want a wife; he wants a slave. He wants someone who will be at his beck and call. Someone who will do as they’re told. Someone who will fulfill his needs without complaint.
And I can’t complain. I can’t. Not when Mother’s safety is on the line.
How am I supposed to live like this? Forever the center of a madman's whims.
A tear slides down my cheek, but I brush it away as I approach the door.
Don't let them see you cry. Don't let them know you might break, that you're so damn close to it.
Even though he's gone, Tarek’s men will keep him updated, feed him information on my every move. I don’t have a single doubt in my mind about that. Anything they see, he knows. And I won't give them anything to report. Won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me weak.
I pause with my hand on the doorknob, suck in a deep, steadying breath, then twist it open. A new guard stands just outside in the hallway, gun visible at his hip, a very real reminder of why I can’t run even if there weren’t others in danger.
He turns toward me and opens his mouth to say something, then quickly snaps it closed when he sees me, almost as if he's struggling to find words. Finally, he clears his throat.
“Do you need something, ma'am? Your fiancé has already left.”
My fiancé…
The word makes my stomach turn even more than it already was.
“I'm not feeling very well. Could I trouble the kitchen for some toast?”
I haven't had any appetite in weeks, mostly pushing my food around the plate while I avoid making eye contact with my captor. But now, the acid eats away at my stomach so badly that it feels like I'm being consumed alive from the inside out.
The man offers me a hard smile that isn’t unkind. “I'm sure we can figure something out.”
He inclines his head down the hall toward the central stairwell.
I raise a brow at him. “I can go myself?”
Maybe with Tarek gone, I’ll have more freedom here to explore the house and grounds—the beautiful gardens outside my bedroom window.
He smirks, almost amused. “I'll be with you the entire time, and we’re just going to the kitchen.”
Of course, he will.
No one's going to leave me unattended, especially not with Tarek gone, likely off ruining someone else’s life. Maybe even back home in Vlorë with Father, doing whatever it is that was so important that it required me to come here.
But it does beg the question…
Where is Konstandin?
Tarek said he would always be here, always be watching. Yet, I haven’t seen him since he set my bags in this room and walked out without a glance back at me.
What is important enough to draw him away from what he's supposed to be doing?
Watching me.
2
KONSTANDIN
I thrust the screwdriver into the man's thigh and twist it, burying the sharp instrument even deeper into his flesh and muscle, drawing out the pain as much as I can to ensure my point comes across crystal clear.
A scream rips from his lips and echoes throughout the warehouse, but none of his buddies will be coming to save him.
Doubt they would even if they weren’t in their current state.
I glance around at my handiwork.
Blood pools under the bodies littering the dirty concrete. An hour after their deaths, the blood hasn’t fully congealed yet. But without their hearts pumping to keep it flowing and warm, it will soon. It creates a ghastly mosaic—almost beautiful in a deadly, fucked-up sort of way.
Just how I like it.
My own unique, macabre art, spread out on another type of canvas, a poignant display of what happens when you cross the Morinas.
I yank the screwdriver from the man's thigh, blood flowing freely from the wound, and he sags forward against the restraints holding him to the chair, tightening around his already-abraded wrists and ankles. If not for those, he'd be flat on his face on the floor, unable to keep himself upright after the way I've already worked him over. And we're nowhere close to being done yet.
He deserves so much more…and so does the man he works for.
