Fractured Devotion

Grab this morally gray mafia romance if you like:
🔥 Friends-To-Lovers
🔥 Off Limits
🔥 Alpha-Hole
🔥 Mafia
🔥 Hidden Identiy
🔥 Vigilante Justice

Prologue:

I was assaulted by a pain so intense, so all-encompassing, it felt as though a swarm of fiery ants was racing through my veins. The acrid smell of burning plastic and metal invaded my nostrils, snapping me back to a harsh reality. Confusion clouded my mind as I tried to piece together my location. Why did it feel as though a massive weight, like a thousand-pound beast, was crushing me?

I tentatively moved my feet, a minor act of defiance against my predicament, and forced my eyes to open. A grim realization dawned on me—I was entangled in a heap of twisted metal. My vision, still hazy, slowly focused on the chaotic scene that bound me. Fleeting memories rushed through my mind, each one hitting like a physical blow, intensifying the throbbing pain in my head. Despite the searing agony in my side, I wiggled my body, mustering every ounce of strength to push myself upright.

Fear became the driving force, overriding any fragment of rational thought. I scrambled back to free myself from the distorted remains of the cockpit seat. Fragments of recollection played in my mind. The forceful boarding, the haunting image of Alex reaching out to her, and then…

Oh God.

A vision of Alex tumbling from the open cargo door as the helicopter ascended mercilessly flashed through my mind, knocking the wind out of my gut. I watched as the man who had heartlessly bought me at the auction cruelly aimed his gun at Alex and pulled the trigger. The feeling of utter helplessness that overwhelmed me as I witnessed the man I loved fall to his death was unlike anything I’d ever experienced.

I’d lunged at my captor like a woman possessed, my actions fueled by raw emotion. In the ensuing chaos, his gun had discharged, striking the pilot with a lethal blow. As the helicopter spun wildly out of control, plunging toward the earth, I’d fought with a strength I never knew I possessed. Fear for my own life had evaporated in those frantic moments; all that mattered was the overwhelming need to resist, to fight against the man responsible for Alex’s fall.

Shaking my head to clear the horrific nightmare I was living in, my eyes scanned the tattered remnants of the whirling machine, looking for signs of life. The pilot, or what was left of him, stared blankly out the crushed front end. Near the back of the helicopter lay another man, the one who’d been holding a gun to my head earlier. There had only been five of them on board—until Alex was pushed out. I expected to see the man who’d purchased my life as his own bleeding out, but other than me and the two dead men, no other bodies were on board.

My palm pressed firmly against the warped, metallic skeleton of the helicopter, a tangible symbol of my resolve. With an effort that seemed to drain the last reserves of strength, I heaved myself upright. The acrid sting of bile clawed at my throat, a visceral reminder of the dangerous situation. I navigated my way out of the wreckage’s jagged embrace with cautious, deliberate movements. The sunlight assaulted me, a fierce blaze of gold that forced my eyes into a hesitant retreat. The world seemed to spin, a disorienting dance that threatened to pull me into darkness. Yet, with a resilience born of sheer necessity, I wrestled against the encroaching blackness. There was no way to know how far they’d actually made it from the hellhole I’d been a prisoner in or how long I lay unconscious, but I wasn’t concerned with any of that. My only thought was to get out of the deathtrap I nearly lost my life in.

Each step I took was a small victory, a testament to my will to live. I hobbled onto the dirt, the uneven ground challenging my already compromised balance. My leg, marred with streaks of dried blood, ached with ferocity, but it was the deep, three-inch gash in my side that truly spoke of my ordeal. The wound, a jagged testament to my recent troubles, oozed blood sluggishly. The fabric that clung to me, once merely functional, now bore the dark red stains of the injury, a grim canvas that verified my troubles. It was a stark reminder of the blood I had lost, an unspoken explanation for the dizziness that clouded my mind and threatened to overthrow my senses.

Stumbling with unsteady steps, I made my way toward a towering tree. Each movement was a battle, my body weighed down by pain and exhaustion. As I reached the tree, I extended my arm quickly, a reflex to prevent a fall. The sudden movement triggered an intense pain in my side, like a fiery blade slicing through me. The pain was so sudden, so fierce, it drew a sharp gasp from my lips
.
Overwhelmed by the agony, my legs gave way, and I collapsed to my knees. The ground beneath me felt hard and unyielding, an unforgiving witness to my defeat. As I kneeled there, a sob rose unbidden from my chest. It was a raw, heart-wrenching sound that broke the stillness of my surroundings. It was a release of all the pain, fear, and helplessness I’d been holding in. At that moment, I was not just a survivor of a crash but a woman confronting my vulnerability in the face of devastating odds.

The sudden crack of branches breaking pierced the heavy air, startling me out of my moment of weakness. My eyes, blurred with tears, snapped up toward the cause of the noise. Exhaustion had sapped me of any will to fight, any strength to resist. The thought that it might be my captor returning to reclaim his prisoner filled me with a sense of dread so intense, it eclipsed even the pain of my wounds. In my heart, a silent prayer rose, hoping for a swift end, believing that death would be a kind release compared to the horrors I had faced and the fate that might await me.

As a figure emerged from the greenery, my reaction was instinctive. I scrambled backward, my movements clumsy and labored, my body protesting every inch. I collapsed to the ground, the impact jarring my already battered frame. My attempt to create distance between myself and the approaching stranger was futile. Losing blood and the relentless pain rendered my efforts ineffective. I lay there, a picture of desperation, my eyes wide with fear as I watched the man draw nearer. At this moment, I was acutely aware of my powerlessness, my fate seemingly hanging in the balance.

“Please,” I begged, not wanting the torture I knew was coming to be prolonged. “Just kill me.”

“No estoy aquí para lastimarte.” I’m not here to hurt you.

My head moved side to side in a gesture of disbelief and confusion. Words stumbled out of my mouth, each one laced with a plea. “I don’t understand. Please…” I uttered, my voice a frail whisper of doubt. As the man continued to approach, my impulse to maintain some fragment of control kicked in. I weakly raised my hand, a shaky barrier against the unknown intentions of the approaching stranger.

My eyes grew larger, reflecting my apprehension as the man kneeled before me. His attire was simple, that of a farmer or laborer. His height was notable, towering in a way that was clear even as he lowered himself. His physique was distinctly muscular, a testament to strength, and his skin bore the deep tan of someone accustomed to the outdoors. His hair, long and black, was gathered in a low ponytail that flowed down his back, adding to his striking appearance. I took in these details, each one adding to the complexity of the situation I found myself in.

“Quien te hizo esto?” Who did this to you? The man’s voice, tinged with concern, reached my ears as he spoke. His hand reached out toward me, an action meant to be comforting, but it only made me recoil, my body mechanically jerking back in response.

“I don’t speak much Spanish,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Tears spilled down my cheeks, stressing my confusion and fear. “I don’t understand.”

Despite my apprehension, the man gently wrapped his fingers around my arm, scooting closer. His words were simple and broken, yet they carried a message of reassurance. “No hurt.”

I gasped in surprise as he carefully scooped me into his arms, standing up with my body cradled against his chest. My mind was a whirlwind of uncertainty, yet my physical weakness prevented any form of protest. I wondered if this was the end, or perhaps just a surreal dream. One thing was apparent to me—my life was irrevocably changed from this moment on.

As the stranger carried me through the dense, green embrace of the jungle, my body overwhelmed by weeks of trauma, began to give in to exhaustion. My eyelids became heavy, an irresistible force pulling them shut. Just as I surrendered to the fatigue, I faintly heard the stranger’s comforting whisper. “No te preocupes angelito… yo te protegeré.” Don’t worry, little angel… I will protect you.

The words were foreign, their meaning unknown to me, but they enveloped me in an unexpected warmth, and I let myself drift off into oblivion, dreaming of the man I loved and would avenge one day… Alex.