The Monster's Protege

Three

A U R O R A

As I roused from the heavy unintentional slumber, I was first aware of the sharp stinging sensation on my knees. My eyes flew open as I jolted up on the bed. A middle-aged woman, sitting at the end of the bed, flashed a warming smile and gazed up.

"There, there now. Dominic just told me to clean the wounds. It may get infected later," she informed and resumed back to cleaning the bruises with the wet wipes.

I grimaced. "It stings..."

"Good, you're up," another voice announced as I snapped my head to the right side.

A boy, almost my age, rested on the beanie bag occupied with his phone.

"Who are you?" I blurted out groggily. I was tired of unknown voices and faces by now.

He looked up and instantly I recognised the blue eyes and brown hair—the same as Viktor and Dominic's. Another brother?

"That's Stefan," the woman answered for him as he waved a hand.

"All done," the woman announced gleefully. "I don't think the bandage is required. It is better to let it air dry."

Before I could nod or even thank her for the kindness—something I had never received for a long time—my stomach rumbled like a clap of thunder.

"Oh dear, when was the last time you ate?" She didn't wait for my reply and pushed a plate of food in my hand. "Viktor did tell me that you were hungry. Hurry up now, finish up everything on the plate."

"Er...thanks?"

"You're a sweet one. Viktor wants to see you after this. I would leave now but Stefan here," he pointed to the boy who was still playing on his phone, "will take you to him. Alright?"

My mouth was already stuffed with so much food that I could only nod.

"Thank you, Mrs. Jones," the boy, whose name was supposedly Stefan, regarded her as she walked out of the room with a graceful stride, the medicinal kit in her hand.

His gaze returned to mine. "My brother doesn't like to wait. You'd better hurry up."

"He can wait for some time," I muttered with my mouth half-full, scowling at him.

If I was going to die, I would rather die with a full stomach and a clean shower I decided.

Stefan gave a little laugh. "You really don't know who is he, do you?"

"Gang leader?" I shrugged with a mouthful of vegetables.

This time he laughed as if I cracked some hilarious joke and shook his head. He picked up the t-shirt hoodie and track pants and dropped them on the bed.

"These should fit you. Are you done eating?"

"Yes," I answered. Placing the plate down on the bed, I stood up and grabbed the clothes. "I need a quick shower. I smell like s**t. Give me ten minutes."

Once I was done and emerged from the bathroom–showered and freshly clothed–Stefan was still perched on the same spot. Without a word, he stood up and handed me a black silk cloth. "On your eyes."

"Seriously?"

"Either you do it or I call the guards stationed outside your door."

"Let me guess—that devil Viktor's orders?" I scowled.

"Yes. And right now that devil has asked for you. Do you really have a death wish that you're willing to make him wait?"

"Apparently, I do," I muttered to myself. Grabbing the blindfold, I put it on and tied it behind my head.

Stefan took my hand and led me out of the room. I had no idea where I was being taken to except a rich, leathery and woody musk that filled my nasal senses. It didn't make any sense until I heard a door being opened and closed as the blindfold was yanked away from my eyes. The light around the room blinded me for a couple of seconds as I adjusted my vision.

The room was huge, luxurious and one of the most sophisticated places I had ever stepped inside. A couch was placed at one corner while the other had a minibar. The center was occupied with a rich, mahogany office desk. Across the desk was a huge flat-screen TV, about 90 inches in size. Everything in the room screamed royalty—something you'd only see in movies or luxury home magazines. Unless someone was a millionaire, owning this place was impossible.

"It took you five hours to eat, shower and get dressed?" Viktor's voice snapped me out of my musings.

It was then I realized his presence in the room. He was no longer wearing his leather jacket and dark jeans but a grey, suede three-piece suit. From head to toe, he was immaculately dressed as some rich businessman from the James Bond movies.

"Um...I was...I fell asleep," I stammered. But he already knew that; what was the point of asking me?

He regarded me with the same deadpan expression where I couldn't figure out whether he wanted to kill me or offer me food.

"Sit," Viktor ordered, pointing towards the chair near the desk and across him.

Stefan nudged a finger at the small of my back when I was still contemplating what to do. The roller coaster of events for the past few hours was so exhilarating that it almost damaged my ability to think quickly or act spontaneously. At one time, it was my specialty. Against my better judgment, I plopped myself down on the chair.

"I am leaving for the club. Tell mom I will be home late," Stefan informed Viktor.

"Stefan," Viktor called out when he almost reached the door. "Take the guards or Christian with you."

"Viktor, for God's sake—"

"I wasn't asking, Stefan," he snapped.

"Fine."

When the door shut, his attention shifted back to mine. "Since you slept well, I am guessing your head's clear for what you are going to look at and whatever I am going to tell you." Without a preamble, he slid a file to my side and ordered, "Open it."

Unsure of what to make of his words, I opened the file and saw a picture of a man along with every possible detail about him and his family. It didn't take me even a second to recognize the picture. It was the same man, of the two, who tried to take advantage of me at the detention facility. I did manage to kill one of them while injuring the other as I escaped from the door that night. Mason Jones. I wouldn't ever forget the name or the face—ever.

"He was one of the two, isn't it?" Viktor asked.

How on earth did he know so much? More importantly, was he a part of law enforcement? Was he going to send me back there?

The fear left a bitter taste of anxiousness in my mouth. "How do you know?" I asked, my voice was small and terrified.

Viktor, being the mind-reader he was, quickly shook his head. "I am not going to send you back there. You can be actually more useful to me outside the detention facility than inside. What I am going to do is offer you a deal."

A deal with the devil? My mind was still spinning. "What kind of a deal?"

"I want you to work for me. You are good with a blade, right? I will send you to someone who would train you how to fight, how to wield a knife, how to shoot a gun and most importantly, how to kill."

"I am not a murderer!" I almost screamed, standing up.

"SIT THE HELL DOWN!" he yelled.

"f**k this!" I pushed back the file and turned to leave.

He stomped around the table so fast, grabbed my shoulders and shoved me back on the chair. In no time, his blue eyes narrowed on me and a hand gripped my throat. "Aurora...," he closed his eyes and exhaled for a second. "I am not the man with whom you want to play your stupid, childish games. It will take me one little snap to break your delicate neck, so I suggest you don't push your luck any further. You have a lot more to lose than I do."

He let go of my throat and stood up straighter. It was a stalemate situation for me and he had me right where he wanted. His power was much greater, much dangerous and yet he was offering me something too good to be true.

I drew in a couple of shaky breaths and glanced up. "I don't even know who you are, and you are asking me to kill for you?"

"My name's Viktor Romano and believe me, the fact you didn't know about me up until now worked in your favour. And I am not asking you—I am telling you what you have to do for me. I don't negotiate. I can only give you the choices, rest is up to you. "

He went back to perch on the same chair he was before. "You work for me, and you can have your vengeance, plus no running from the law enforcement."

"My vengeance? I don't understand."

He nodded and then plucked out the picture of Mason Jones from the file and slid towards me. "The first assignment would be him. Torture him, maim him, kill him—do whatever you want for trying to take advantage of you, but ONLY after you are done with your training."

I was well-rested and well-fed but his words made me completely dizzy, clueless, scared and confused. "I don't know. I..."

"Aurora, look at me. Do you want to go back to the streets, unsafe and wish to starve? I don't think so. You work for me and no one would put a finger on you. I'd provide you with every kind of security you require."

"What kind of training?"

"Both physical and educational. I know someone who'd be the perfect guy to teach you how to fight. So tell me: do you want to remain the damsel in distress or you want to fight own battles?"

I had been fighting my own battles ever since I was a 14-year-old. Sometimes, I got lucky and managed to save myself and other times, I didn't. And what he was offering me was more lucrative than a bag of diamonds to me.

"Who is...who is going to teach me?" I asked.

"His name is Marco Alessi. You'd stay with him as long as it takes to learn and complete the training. Like I said before, no one's going to violate you—ever. But as far as your training goes, you'd listen to each and every word that Marco says. You'd respect him, obey him and do whatever he asks you to do."

"What if he is—"

"He is not a monster, Aurora. He is a tough guy, but he won't torture you or hurt you. Yes, he might push your limits but you'd be safe with him. I will pay you a visit once a week until I am sure that you are good on your own."

My thoughts were such a jumbled mess that I could hardly think straight. On one hand, I knew this was some kind of a good deal that life was throwing at me. I'd never had to be afraid of anything, neither would I have to starve and freeze to death. But men like Viktor didn't do anything like this very generously. For all I knew about him was that he dealt in drugs, carried guns and was some kind of a super-rich millionaire and none of those points add up.

I looked up straight into his blue eyes. "What do you get out of this?"

He smiled darkly. "Your loyalty." What was he, some kind of a king?

When I didn't say anything for a long time, he added, "Tell you what, Aurora, take a day off and think about it. You're free to roam around in this wing of the estate. I'd inform my men. But make no mistake—do not even think of stepping out or fleeing. You won't make it out of here, and I'd hate to have to kill you then."