The Monster's Addiction (Completed)

Chapter 1

MIA

Stillness and silence could be both peaceful and haunting, and no one knew it better than me.

The prickling sensation of the needle piercing into my veins was torture and relief at the same time. The ugly voices echoing inside my brain would start rising higher and higher like a noxious smoke. The trance, the silence, the ecstasy - everything would scrumple into a dreadful ball of horror with every passing second. The drugs - whatever they would inject me with - worked like a witch's spell inside my body.

Kidnapped at the age of 16, I had faced some unspeakable horrors.

Transported from one brothel to the other auction house and then to another bought by someone—the descent to hell continued for about a year until a man named Antonio claimed me to be his 'property'. To use, abuse, and some more.

Rape, murder, violence, cruelty, humiliation, torture—you name it, and I have seen it all.

I had lived it and endured it, so far.

No matter how much I had tried to escape from this throttle of the hell, it was a forlorn hope. Instead, I kept falling and falling into the deepest abyss of darkness.

The day I was dragged to Antonio's room, beaten and bloodied, a cruel smile flashed on his face. He leaned down slowly, yanking at my hair to the point my scalp ached and said, "Ah! A w***e worth the money and effort. Don't worry; I will make you feel good."

A strange whirl of renewed fear whirling inside my stomach told me that my fate was sealed.

In his defense, he probably did make me feel good. He injected me with different kind of drugs every day and r***d me until his lust was sated. And sometimes, he would throw me away to other men or his guests until I would pass out.

The trance that trapped me was like an out-of-the-body experience.

I could sense when they would violate me, repeatedly, my brain screamed and howled, but nothing made past my lips. Instead, I begged and begged for some more drugs. It didn't take long for me to become a forced-drug addict. My body couldn't accept the drug withdrawals, and I would yell for the drugs day and night when they'd denied me of it.

The old Amelia Parker, or Mia as my mama named, was gone.

She's probably dead. I buried a part of myself the day they kidnapped me.

And from then on, the circle of beaten, drugged, tied to the bed and euphoria continued, like a never-ending cycle of hell.

A rough hand clutched the fleshy part of my thigh, squeezing hard. My first impulse was to crawl away, but Antonio had already chained me by the floor and near his bed.

"C'mon, b***h, I don't have all day for this," he gritted out in frustration and grabbed one of my breasts with the other hand. In response, I whimpered in pain as hot tears stung my eyes and blurred my vision.

"Fine," he spat out and landed a back-handed slap on my cheeks. "I know what you need, little whore." Reaching out, he grabbed a syringe already loaded with the drugs and waved in front of my eyes - like enticing a dog with a bone to do your bidding.

I leaped out to snatch it from his hand when he reared back and grinned. "You will only get this if I get a good b*****b. Else, I will make you scream all day without the drugs."

Antonio fisted my hair, dragging me to a kneeling position when something blasted our earshot.

BANG!

"What the f—"

He couldn't finish the sentence because menacing figure stormed inside the room with such a brutal force that it would make anyone cower in fear.

"Aah!" I could hear Antonio shrieking out as the sound of another gunshot echoed.

I peeked through my lashes to take a look before cringing back. This unknown man embodied terror like no other.

Even Antonio winced him as I have never seen. My muscles paralyzed, senses numbed, and it was not the drug withdrawal. The fleeting glance I saw of his hardened features was beyond forgettable. Rage oozed out of him like fire blazing out of a dragon.

This man—he was a monster.

*************

VIKTOR

Stealing my money was a crime, but betraying me was a sin. Antonio would realize the difference very soon. He shouldn't have crossed a Romano when every act of disloyalty against my family ended in a bloodbath. Mercy was one attribute that never made it to my bloodline. We were ruthless and vicious monsters, my brother and I. Perhaps it was about time I remind Antonio of that.

I'd given him enough time to live and f**k, only because I wanted him to thrive under the delusion that he got away with his act of treason.

"Antonio is still inside the master bedroom, half-drunk," Lorenzo informed from beside me.

His newest acquisition, the mansion he called his palace, was already under surveillance by my men. We got the eyes on him already except for the master bedroom, but thank f*****g god for the blueprints.

"Guards, servants—give me a number, Lorenzo," I demanded, pulling out the GLOCK from the shoulder holster and unlocking it.

"Nine guards and three servants. Out of the three, two men are armed, and one of them is a woman," Lorenzo rambled on.

"Bought or hired?" I asked.

"Hired and used well."

I snickered. Antonio never wasted an opportunity to get the tiny d**k wet.

"Have the snippers take out as many as possible. I will deal with Antonio personally. And get the woman talking," I ordered. It was easier to get a piece of information out of a woman than wasting several moments torturing a man.

When we arrived, three of my best snippers took down the six guards stationed outside with a few minutes as rest of my men barged in, killing the rest.

My men dealt with the rest effortlessly while I prowled straight towards the master bedroom for my prey.

Barging in, I found him exactly where I'd wanted him for months as the sound of two gunshots boomed in the air.

"What the f—"

BANG!

"Aah!" Before he could finish, a bullet from my gun grazed his ear, oozing blood as he couched down, holding the bleeding mess.

Two men stood behind me by the door with their guns pointed at him as his frenzied gaze flitted between me and the door.

"Viktor—"

BANG!

"f**k!" The bullet grazed his thigh this time. His legs buckled as he dropped down to his knees. And that's exactly where he belonged.

"Did I give you permission to talk?" I asked him rhetorically, toying with him. Unbuttoning the suit, I sat down on the couch, resting my elbows on the knees. "You have a bad habit of doing what you are not supposed to do, Antonio."

"Listen...I—"

BANG! It was a blank shot, but he still flinched like a terrified pet.

Exhaling, I pinched the bridge of my nose. "You're starting to test my patience now," I threatened calmly. "But since you're so eager to talk—let's do this. I will ask the questions, you will answer. Simple. Ok? Let's begin."

Reclining back comfortably, I commenced. "Who was the handler who rerouted my shipments behind my back?"

"I don't—I swear, I have no idea..."

Before he could finish the sentence, I stood over him in a flash as my fist rammed into his jaw first, and then his ribs. He doubled over on the ground, whining.

Yanking his hair with one hand, while the other pointed the muzzle of the GLOCK at his balls, I snarled, "If you have the balls to cross me, you should have grown a proper pair to face me, Antonio. I won't fail to collect my pound of flesh if I want to."

Letting go of his hair from my grip, I sat back down. And for the next several minutes—he begged, cried, and pleaded incessantly. And honestly, I was bored as f**k. The adrenaline was slowly dying out in my veins, and I was in need dire of alcohol after listening to him whining like a p***y.

BANG! Annoyed, I pulled the trigger again for a blank shot as the bullet knocked down a vase perched on the bedside table.

A tormented squeak rang in my ears, but it wasn't Antonio's.

Curious, I sauntered closer in measured steps towards the bed as my eyes narrowed.

WHAT. THE. f**k.

There sat a little human being, curled into herself, trying hard to hide one of her breasts with the torn clothing. Her gaze fixated on my shoes, and the closer I got, the farther she tried to scramble under the bed—as far as the chains around her legs and neck allowed.

I crouched down and cupped her chin, directing those sad, doe eyes on mine. Red, swollen and puffy—the brown orbs reflected a damaged soul and a broken mind so distinctly, it had tugged at something inside me. I was feeling something—something akin to what people would refer to as caring.

Pushing away a few stubborn locks of hair out of her tear-stained face, my thumb feathered over the blood-clot at the corner of her lips.

"Who the hell are you?" I found myself lowly mumbling the words before thinking through.

"DAMMIT!" Lorenzo barked from behind as I turned slightly to the sound of hustling. Antonio was trying to grab onto something before Lorenzo kicked his wounded shoulder.

"Hold him down!" I ordered the men and turned back to face her.

She was gaping at the gun in my hand with such terror-stricken gaze that I had to set it aside on top of the table.

"See, I kept it away. Ok? Relax now," I said, reaching out to touch her wrist before she cringed. "I am not going to kill you," I assured, hoping it might calm her pulse.

The brown, doe eyes willingly met my gaze this time, blinking fast as if she was trying to judge the sincerity in my words.

She was a little enchantress who trapped me in her spell, rendering me speechless.

And when the spell broke, I looked over my shoulders at Antonio, "Where's the key to these chains?" I demanded.

He fumbled with his fingers to pull out a key attached with the gold chain around his neck, but Lorenzo didn't wait. Wounding the chain in his fists, he yanked at it painfully until it came free and handed it to me.

A moment later, I wrenched out the metal bindings and took a step away from her. No matter how much I ached to touch the reddish bruises, I knew my closeness would only intimidate her.

"You can get up now. I unlocked the chains," I stated the obvious.

Instead, she only cringed further away. Drawing her out of the shell was like wondering why a caged bird would not fly out seizing the freedom even though the door was wide open.

"Who is this?" I asked Antonio tersely, knowing she wouldn't answer me.

"She's a good, obedient w***e. Her p***y taste like freaking heaven. Viktor, believe me. Just see for yourself once." His tone was as desperate as ever, irritating the f**k out of me. Growling at her, he yelled, "b***h! Spread your legs for him!"

Somehow, that was the last straw.

Picking up the gun, I pulled the trigger and shot between his eyes, silencing him permanently.

"Bloody asshole—doesn't know to keep his mouth shut," I grumbled. Glancing up at Lorenzo and the other one, I ordered, "Take the body out."

When I whirled around, I found she crawled a little further away and fisted something in her tiny hands behind her back. Getting closer, I wrenched her hand out from her back and saw the thing clutched tightly in her fingers.

A bloody needle? MOTHERFUCKING. HELL.

"Please," the small voice whimpered out for the first time, creating a tight knot inside me.

I tugged at her fingers. "Let it go." My rumbling tone was a little short of a growl.

Teary-eyed, she shook her head like a child.

"f**k! You are an addict," I mumbled to myself because I didn't need confirmation from her.

I know when I see one.

Her little defiance reminded me of Stefan—my youngest brother I had lost. A thorough addict he was. I had watched him howl, scream and fight for drugs when we denied him of it. The withdrawal was a f*****g mess. I sat by him—every night almost—to make sure he would sleep. At times, I had to cuff him to the bed to stop him from slashing his wrists. And one day, I had to bury him.

This girl before me, she was in a dire mess than Stefan.

Drugged, beaten, r***d and god knows what.

"f*****g Antonio," I gritted out. The asshole had a history of drugging, trafficking and sometimes, buying and r****g women at his whim.

The tiny hand kept on trying to wield out of my grip. The struggle was futile, and I sighed. "You're just wasting your energy." In a flash, I extracted the loaded syringe out of her hands and crushed the needle.

Standing up, I gently pulled her up on her feet by the delicate shoulders and righted her clothing to cover the breasts spilling out.

"Can you stand on your own?" I asked, and in response, she only latched onto my shirt.

How come she trembled in fear in my presence and sought protection in my arms at the same time? Nothing made sense.

Keeping my voice monotone, I said, "Don't move or wriggle much." The moment I scooped her up in my arms, a new wave of terror washed over her features and started squirming.

"No. No. No. No....please don't—"

I cut her off. "Shh... I am not going to hurt you, girl. I am taking you home."

The words just slipped out of my lips effortlessly.

*********************