An Arranged Marriage To The Mafia...?

Ethan didn't hesitate, not even with the barrel of a gun facing him. His feet gliding across the cement floors as I suddenly broke into hysterical tears, my right arm turned limp and hand released the cold metal gun to the floor. My chest heaving with shattered breaths as Ethan effortlessly trecked the floor, his palm cupping the side of my neck, bringing my sobbing form forward and burrying my face against the soft cotton fabric of his shirt. Quickly his arms enveloped my breaking body and held my figure against his frame, his head resting upon my hair. Deeply I swollowed his familiar comforting scent, sniffling back falling sobs and resting in the comfort of knowing that life still burned through his veins and at that exact moment I had never been safer.

He pulled away slowly, his eyes scanning over my blood stained face, his thumb gently brushing against my bruising red cheek and wiping away spilt tears. Instinctively I let my eyes flutter close and he burried my face into the cotton fibres of his shirt once again, his other arm wrapping tightly across my shoulders, his lips pressing a subtle kiss to my forehead.

"Did they hurt you?" His eyes were stern and a complete seriousness took over his attitude, his face watching mine curiously as if scouring it for details of a lie.

I shook my head no and sniffed back an up coming sob, whincing slightly at the pain that enveloped with such a simple movement. "I thought you were dead." My voice broke under the strain and Ethan's lips connected to my perspiring forehead once more.

"So did I." His voice muttered from above me and my eyes landed on the unconscious body of Benjamin at our sides, I was unsure whether or not he was breathing and at that exact moment I didn't care.

"They told me they killed you... they killed everybody... My.. my father." Ethan cut me off as he parted and held my hand.

"I know."

"And Mason... he..he's my-"

"Your brother." Ethan smiled slightly at the corner of his lip, his hand warming my own as he tugged me gently toward the stair case, his hand prying the small hand gun I had shot Benjamin with before from the ground as we slowly walked forward. "We need to get you out of here."

Shaking knees climbed the wooden stairs and my eyes stung as the lights of a kitchen soaked through the on slaught of tears and running make up. Ethan's eyes looked down at me from their corners as we walked around what we had before considered one of my father's many safe houses. The furniture was shabby, tattered and worn and under every piece lay a form of weapon.

Ethan scoured the house, his arms gathering small weapons of my father's and hiding them over his body, he threw draws from their rightful shelves and packed pockets with bullets as I stood alone by a small wall.

For the first time in three days I felt safe. Four hours I sat alone in a basement tied to a chair with the one man who was suppose to protect me forever walking upstairs plotting the death and murder of the one man who had managed to save me from dire situations more than once. In Ethan's presence I was constantly confident that I was safe from illusive harm. Though I once felt the same in my father's company I now knew who I would rather trust and to which side I would chose if it came down to it.

A shadow loomed across the opposing wall and my heart beat stopped completely inside my chest, my lung tried to permit a sound but silence developed and fell like it was all I was capable of creating. Ethan's back faced my scared front while he rustled through draws of cutlery and junk, his eyes trained to seek out the weapons he so desired.

"They'll be back soon." The pumping in my chest skipped a small beat and calmed slowly as the familiar voice entered through the kitchen, Marcus Radev, Ethan's eldest brother's eyes were heavily bagged and clothes worn lazily over his body while he shuffled inside. His line of vision fell over me and a look of relief washed over him, his eyes boaring over what I knew to be a blood stained mess of features.

Marcus paused before he grasped the refrigerator door, shifting through the frozen section and bringing down a bag of crisp, cold, frozen vegetables and holding them toward my face. "It'll keep the swelling down.." Graciously I bound my fingers around the plastic packaging and held the icy cool to the burning pang of pain bursting through my nose and upper lip, "It's good to see you're alright." A large hand rested against the top of my head and I smiled lazily in response, Marcus would forever be the brother who hid feelings of any sort and struggled in emotion scenes.

Alone I sat pressing the frozen bag to my throbbing face in the kitchen, faintly hearing the sounds of Ethan terrorising the safe house and Marcus pacing back and forth along the front enterance.

Silently I slipped from the small wall and advanced down the slim hallway, my palm lacing with the hold door handle of the one room I knew to be the bathroom. There had been countless times when my father and I had fled to one of his safe houses, hiding gutlessly from enemies while his men risked their lives and much of those houses were the same, built with the same blueprints and builders.

Timid and cautious I peered slowly toward the glossy mirror and instantly became startled at the ghastly reflection. Already in a matter of an almost hour my nasal cavity had swollen and blood has seeped into the pale of my skin, evidentally a broken nose sat shifted and crooked along the centre of my face and eyes watered from the steady pain while dark circles grew with confidence underneath my eyes. My bottom lip was busted and a taste of bloody copper lavished itself along my tongue and taste buds making my stomach tremble in a sickly feeling. Water stung and licked at my wounds as I splashed the refreshing liquid over my burning skin, the fawcett squeeking and shuddering having not been used for sem time. Quickly my hands spun the taps off and ears pricked up at the sound of breaking glass.

Shaking limbs had me crawling into the stale hallway, one foot before the other until the kitchen door way was perfectly in view. Ethan's body shifted from the shadow and I saw the questioning glance fall across his face as I walked slowly toward him. I stood merely a foot away, my eyes peering up while he watched well past my face to the passage way behind, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

Quietly I cleared my throat and Ethan's attention was brought to my much smaller stature, his eyebrows remained knitted and he gently raised a hand to press against my cheek, his thumb ever so softly tracing the swelling, building bruises that lingered over my usually clear complection. A sharp inward take of breath made his movements cease completely an appologetic lok flicker behind his bright eyes.

"We need to go," He didn't wait for my reply and I was sure he knew better than any other that I would not be planning to wait around for my father to return. Instead I simply turned around and allowed Ethan to place his palm on the small of my back, gently leading me to the safe haven of the front door, the wind chilling my senses completely... except for one. My eyes turned blurry in the cool Nevada night, my mouth unable to taste the sweet evening, my sinus failing to pick up familiar smells as it burned in agony and my ears deaf to the calls of midnight, though my hand burned in sheer excitement as Ethan's body slowed to a comfortable walking pace, his finger wrapping safely around my much smaller palm.