Chained Read online

  “However, I will not tolerate injustice.”

  The guards in the room take a sharp breath, tension rising to the ceiling as they stand stiffly still. The other group of men is not from the Callahan family. They are rivals in business together.

  Moretti crime family is one of the biggest syndicates in Philadelphia. The two families were rivals before they got into bed with each other for future benefits. They knew that one of the families would be destroyed before a day of peace can go by, and now they bring in more revenue from illegal activities than before.

  Drugs, prostitution, gun smuggling, and hitmen, nothing is too immoral, and nothing is off-limits. Where there is a chance for money, they will have their nails digging in for the gold hidden in that avenue.

  “Dad—!” Abel’s voice cracks as he faces the wrath of his father.

  I stand towards the exit while the more important men are in the middle of the room with guards surrounding them. Their chairs show their status, and only the head of the families are seated in comfortable chairs.

  I would have thought that Abe would be seating since he is the newest boss to the Callahan family, but he stands to the side while his father sits. It shows how much power he still commands in his retired state, but the other person that is sitting is in a wheelchair.

  It’s pathetic of Abel to be rendered in a wheelchair for the rest of his life because that woman had cut through his Achilles’ heels. The act itself is heinous. She robbed that man of his ability to walk simply because she wanted to and it was too easy when I watched her bring the knife down.

  That could have been me, but she didn’t bring any harm to me like I would have expected. She did come up to me, and through instinct, my body fought the gas with a hand around her neck.

  The power that radiated in my palms has her pulse jumping, and her heterochromia eyes only widened in glee, and my heart had almost stopped beating.

  Bloodlust was clear in her eyes. The purr that mechanically transferred from the gas mask had the chills in me ignite a flame of desire that I have never felt before.

  It was new, and I welcomed it as a way to break free of the nerve agent’s hold.

  Whoever the hell that woman was, my body wanted her.

  “Silence, son,” Callahan hisses, his voice booming loudly and the guards take a step back.

  When silence falls on the room again, the head of the families converses with each other while actively ignoring the perpetual child in the wheelchair.

  He is a child in a forty-year-old body, and it’s embarrassing to see him pout as if he had been denied an extension to his bedtime.

  “I thank you for bringing this to my attention, Moretti,” Callahan nods his gratitude with his hands on top of each other as they rest on his cane.

  Moretti lights a Cuban cigar and releases a puff of smoke; the faint scent seeps towards me, and I resist the urge to inhale it.

  I have smoked before, but I never got the chance to touch a cigarette again when Zabel got his hands on me. He needed my body in top condition to win competitions with his petty friends and weakening my lungs with nicotine was not acceptable.

  The habit kicked, and I have gotten better in fighting than I was before, but I’m still not good enough for that one opponent that will end my life. I just know that someone out there holds my death in their hands, and I have accepted that because I am not the strongest person that walks on Earth.

  “Please, continue,” Conrad Callahan says to Moretti.

  My eyes scan Abel’s body for a moment, and it’s easy to tell that he’s still not accepting that he’s in a wheelchair for the rest of his life; that denial gets his face into a blaze of anger and hatred.

  The cuts on his heel are too deep and too severe to have reversed by the most talented doctors; his legs are gone, and there is nothing he can do about it.

  Shame, I silently scoffed.

  I feel no sympathy to him, and I have to admit to myself that it feels fucking great.

  “As you have heard, there is a killer on the loose,” Moretti raises his hand and gestures towards Abel, “He is one of the victims.”

  “I am aware of what goes on in my territories,” Callahan nods, his wrinkled eyes narrow.

  “I ask of you to not hunt down her,” Moretti says, taking another puff of his cigar.

  “You are asking me to allow a killer on the loose after she had done this to my son,” Callahan sneers, but his composure stays flat.

  It wasn’t a question. It is a mere repeat of the unspoken statement that Moretti had implied. Watching them trying not to step on each other’s toes is frightening; any wrong move would result in the collapse of the partnership that will devastate the entire Philadelphia city.

  “You have heard of Hera,” Moretti doesn’t try to cover up the admiration that flashes across his eyes.

  I cross my arms over my chest, listening in the conversation as well as keeping an eye on everyone in the room. They are interested in the content of this meeting too, and it’s not every day the goons of each family can be in on important meetings and hear what is being discussed behind closed doors.

  “I have,” Callahan nods, his voice betrays nothing as he flicks his gaze towards me for a brief moment.

  I stand up straighter as I meet his eyes; the back of my neck strains as the tautness in my stomach continues to rig up tighter.

  Hera.

  Her name derives from the signature multicolored eyes of heterochromia, and it’s also the first thing I noticed about her. Those eyes hold death in one solid gaze. It’s a dangerous game to play if I’m not careful of her intentions.

  She’s a queen with a walk that reduces men to their knees with force or pure seduction.

  “You have seen what she can do,” Callahan notes solemnly as Moretti twirls his cigar between his fingers.

  “I have,” Moretti repeats what Callahan had said, “I have had a close encounter with that monster.”

  I haven’t had enough experience with Hera to know whether she is a monster or not, but if one of the most powerful men in Philadelphia had named her a monster, then it is a good start in believing the things she has done to earn her the name of the infamous Greek goddess.

  “Is she to be a problem for us?” Callahan questions.

  “Perhaps,” Moretti breathes a puff of smoke.

  The room is beginning to crowd with the white haze of the Cuban cigar as my lungs take in the scent. Due to my previous experience with cigarettes, a part of me itches for a nicotine shot to calm the fidgety taps of my fingers on my arm.

  “First and foremost, Hera is psychopathic. We are to never cross paths with her unprepared. However, there is an order in her insanity.”

  Callahan grunts, his voice deep and raspy from old age. The wisdom in his tone and the fiery glare he sets has men cowering, but his son is happy that his father is standing up for him.

  It’s such an embarrassment to his family. Abel is nothing but a liability at this point. He can’t do anything right to save his life other than organizing fights that always end with lives being destroyed by the end of the night.

  “There is no order in which she kills,” Callahan slams his cane on the ground, “I have witnessed the despair she leaves behind.”

  He is talking about Abel, and he isn’t too happy that his son is hurt no matter how useless he is. I almost feel bad for Abe for having an older brother who can’t protect him because the firstborn is meant to take care of the ones that come after them.

  “I have made the mistake of facing Hera,” Moretti says as he takes one strong inhale that has the end of his cigar crackling with orange sparks.

  “Hera has caused tremendous trouble in my family before, and I will not allow history to repeat.”

  He bites the cigar between his teeth and lifts his neck up. The collar of his dress shirt leaves room for everyone to see the long scar that stretches from one end to the other.

  It is a wound from having his throat sliced; that attack w
as meant to end his life.

  “Hera had me in captivity for three days, and each day was a horror story.”

  The torture he endured must be extremely deadly for him to describe the gruesome details of how she had used tools that she found at the sight of torture. She didn’t prepare for a formal interrogation chamber or brought tools to wring information out of the mafia boss. Hera used whatever she had on her hands to make him remember the nightmare she inflicted on him.

  “You say she has logic in her insanity,” Callahan notes.

  His other son, Abe, shifts uncomfortably as the glasses on the bridge of his nose fog up from his breath.

  “I was the one who deemed her as an enemy in my territory; she simply responded in self-defense,” Moretti takes his cigar out of his lips and taps the ashes to the floor.

  “She held you captive,” Callahan clears his throat, “Yet, she is alive.”

  “She skinned my best man alive and fed me his skin before she sliced my throat.”

  Everyone in the vicinity takes a sharp inhale just as they did in the beginning, but this time, they are disgusted and more afraid than anything. They are no doubt imagining themselves in that position of either being the Moretti boss or his guard. Both scenarios aren’t welcoming.

  “She let you live,” Callahan states plainly.

  “Hera called my men from my phone,” Moretti nods, “She had remarked that she only kills those who have caused her tragedy.”

  “What is this tragedy she speaks of?” Callahan inquires with a squint of his eyes when a cloud of smoke blocks his view.

  I swallow the thick saliva in my throat and steady the quivering breath from my lungs. Either the nicotine addiction is getting to me, or I’m too riveted in any information I can get my hands on. Hera is an interesting case that I want to dissect down to the raw truth of her origins.

  Moretti tilts his head briefly; his eyes meet mine in the same manner as Callahan did with me.

  My mind is whirling in reasons why I’m even invited to this meeting anyway. I’m not in either of the families because being owned by Abel doesn’t mean anything other than being a property with a name.

  “That remains a mystery,” Moretti comments, “She has reached out to me with a proposal.”

  Abe’s reaction can’t be contained, “Proposal?”

  The infuriated tone gets hushed by his father, “But, she has caused my brother harm—”

  “Abe,” Callahan slams his cane down, “Do not speak out of turn.”

  “I apologize, father,” he bows his head in shame.

  “Why did she come after Abel?” Callahan asks while ignoring the fervent nods of his eldest son.

  “As I have stated before, she only goes after those who have wronged her.” Moretti puts out his cigar with the ashtray that one of his minions holds out.

  I can’t believe a guard walks around with an ashtray just for this purpose, but Moretti is a powerful man who can do whatever he pleases without having to be judged.

  “I don’t even know that fucking crazy woman!” Abel screams in disgruntled hatred.

  Moretti spares the pathetic man a glance, “Every single person she has skinned and killed was connected to you in one way or another.”

  “How?” Abel spits out.

  “They all worked for you at one time,” Moretti drops the cigar into the ashtray and waves the guard back.

  “What is the purpose of this meeting that you have called?” Callahan sighs deeply, his wrinkles deepen.

  “Hera has marked your eldest son, and he will be nothing more than the trouble that you wish you had gotten rid of a long time ago.”

  Callahan’s brows curl in skepticism and confusion, “Explain.”

  “Hera walks on a fine line between psychopathic and sociopathic. She is brilliant and cunning, she will leave bodies in her wake if you decide to protect your son.”

  “Do you doubt my ability to protect my own family?” Callahan challenges.

  My fingers tighten on my arm as the muscles under them twitch in impatience.

  “This is not about the number of men you have nor the influence you have on the city. Hera has had her hands on me before, what makes you believe so passionately that she cannot get to you and your sons?”

  That is a fact that leaves the Callahan family in silence as they all express different emotions, but the one major facial expression that they have is the incredulity. There is no denial of the fact that Hera has plucked the head of the Moretti mob boss in the middle of trained killers; she can finesse her way into the Callahan family with ease.

  “If you wish to bring your entire empire down, then I will not stop your foolish attempts to save your family. I do find working with the Callahan family is beneficial to both of us, but I have no intention of going against Hera,” Moretti leans back in his chair and uncrosses his legs.

  “Our business deal will be voided if you choose to not take my offer.”

  Moretti leaves the conversation just like that, but he doesn’t get up to leave like I had thought he would.

  “What is it that she wishes to take from my son?” Callahan frowns.

  “Dad—!” Abel chokes.

  Moretti sighs loudly, “A game of life or death. Your son, Abel, can use whatever value that is in his name as of now and if he can withstand her attempts to kill him, then she will let him live.”

  Callahan gauges carefully, “For how long?”

  “However long it takes to kill him,” Moretti says it as if he is stating the weather for today.

  “That’s not fair!” Abel screams in fear. He trembles in his wheelchair as his upper body moves erratically.

  “You cannot reason with a deranged woman with nothing to lose,” Moretti shakes his head in fake sympathy.

  No crime syndicate boss has the ability to worry about others. They only care about themselves and what happens under them.

  “What if I win?” Abel dares to raise his voice, “What do I get other than living if I win?”

  “You can have Damon Maverick back,” Moretti flicks his attention to me.

  Callahan immediately raises his hand and motions me towards him. I push my feet forward and let my arms drop to my side as I close the distance. The men in the circle part way for me as I stand in the space that allows me to see the two men in an equally close distance.

  My forehead gets Abel’s cold glare.

  “Why does she want Maverick?” Callahan inquires as he gives me a full-body scan.

  “She likes to strip her victims of everything. It starts with the things that Abel hold the most value to,” Moretti explains easily.

  “My son holds value on him?” Callahan frowns again and turns to his son, “I have given you a wide range of discretion, and you have used it to perform fights where men are not given a second chance.”

  It’s not an accusation, but the statement does make Abel sweat in anxiety as he shifts in his wheelchair.

  No one expects him to say anything because there is nothing to say when his father has spoken the truth to his reprehensible activities he’s been doing.

  “And you,” Callahan snaps his head to his other son who is the head of the Callahan family now.

  “You allowed this shame to be brought upon the Callahan name.”

  The younger son bows his head more in shame, “I am truly sorry, father.”

  “Do not apologize for your lack of control over your older brother. I expected better from you.”

  The silent jab tells me everything; the disappointment towards both of his sons, the jab that he favors the younger one more, and the reprimand of the younger brother’s inability to run a successful family business.

  “I do not care what debt you owe to my son or if you have done something horrendous, but I will not allow anyone in my family to be held against their will.”

  There is the wisdom of his voice again. My heart jumps in pace as I wait for him to continue. My mouth is too dry to speak, so I nod to whatever he is s
aying.

  “Do you wish to be in the Callahan family?” Callahan asks, voice stern and serious.

  “No.”

  I never wanted to be in his family or anyone’s crime organization. I am my own person, and I refuse to be chained down like a damn dog again. My life is in my hands only, and I will make anyone regret it if they say otherwise.

  He nods in understanding, “Are you here against your will?”

  “Yes.”

  A flash of anger breaches his stoic expression before receding behind the walls of his brown eyes, “I will allow you the chance to earn your life back.”

  My eyes lock with his; the steel will in me strengthens at his offer. I will be a stupid man if I don’t take it when a man as fair as Conrad Callahan presents me the choice.

  “Fight for your freedom.”

  There is no answer if I were to lose, but I think everyone in the room knows how it would end for me if I got defeated. This is a fight for my freedom, and I am expected to put my life on the line to get that privilege back again.

  Determination sets in my stomach.

  I’m going to win, and then I will find that woman who has occupied my mind like an addictive drug.

  Chapter Four

  Hera

  “Fucking bitch, stupid whore of a maggot—I’m going to dig your goddamn eyes out with my fingers!”

  My phone lays on the counter as I hum a tune happily before going back to stirring the pot of food that I’m making for the ever-dearest Abel and his foul mouth.

  That man needs a good rinsing of dish soap in his mouth.

  “Hmm!” I grin happily, “I can do that for him!”

  His phone has been hacked by a very talented hacker that I found on the dark web, and it’s been so much fun hearing the things he’s going to do to me once he gets his grimy hands on me.

  I have been playing his conversations out loud as the empty kitchen takes in his voice. Everyone has gone for the night, and that leaves the kitchen to my whims for whatever I want to do.

  I want to cook, and it would be nice to give Abel a gift that I have personally made. He deserves a home-made meal by the hands of someone who has barely cooked in her life.