"Hell with you, seems like heaven to me"

Arabella Karve "You're pathetic." Are the first words he says, his deep voice ringing out across the alley.

The thick Italian accent from his native tongue rings in each of his words, making him sound even crueler than he would if English was his first language.

My adrenaline begins to slip away, fading into nothing but a faint memory. The second it's gone, its place is immediately taken over by the overwhelming emotions of the night. The unbearable intensity of the sensation sits heavy on my stiff limbs, making my bones almost as weighed down as my heart.

I want to cry of embarrassment seeing the way he is looking at me, the look in his eyes almost making me think I am hallucinating and it's really my father standing in front of me.

I bite down on my tongue until the familiar tang of iron fills my mouth, a weak attempt to hold back the welling in my eyes.

As much as I want to curl up on the ground and cry until my face turns raw and the casks of water behind my eyes finally dry up, I know it would only make everything worse for me.

He has never seen me cry and I would rather be the dead body lying in front of me than let Eros see that weakness sitting just behind the wall of indifference that is slowly crumbling.

His eyes carefully look over me, over the blood covering my clothes and the bruises coating my skin. A muscle feathers in his jaw and my dark eyes flicker to the almost unnoticeable movement. I swallow involuntarily.

I glance back up to his scrutinizing gaze, hopeless becoming an understatement for how I feel in this moment.

No matter what I do, I will never escape this life.

Eros will always outsmart me, always be quicker than me. No matter what I do, he will drag me back to my parents' side and back to what I am supposed to be. Back to who I am supposed to be.

Freedom in my life feels like the breeze. I reach my hand out towards it every chance I have, the sensation caressing my scarred skin like a fleeting kiss of hope.

But the second I have it in the palm of my hand, it slips through my fingers and is gone just as fast as it came. Just another cruel joke sent by a God who I plead to for mercy so often that my voice has gone raw.

The worst part about Eros's words is that they are true and he's just one of the many people to remind me.

I subconsciously reach my trembling hand up towards my neck, feeling the tender skin as I try to remind myself that the man's hand is no longer there. He can't hurt me anymore, he can't hurt anyone anymore.

I am safe, I try to soothe myself by repeating again and again as the world spins around me. But the howl in the dangerous wind and the faint pull of the mansion calling me back home in the distance reminds me that I will never be safe.

He silently studies me, waiting for a response that I try to form but fail. My mind is filled with so many unspoken words I can't manage one.

My throat is so tight that I don't even know if I could say anything if I tried. I'm surprised I am even able to breathe as he watches me.

His cold eyes observe every detail there is to me, his gaze so intense that I almost believe he is staring straight into my soul.

It looks like he is taking note of every thorn, along with every flower. Every rough edge and every sharp edge.

It feels as if he knows everything there is to me and can't manage to forget no matter how hard he tries. If only he knew how wrong he is.

He takes a step forward and my heart lurches in my chest, my unsteady body involuntarily scrambling a few feet away from him and the dead body that is a symbol of the tragedy that follows the path of Eros Vandare.

A small part of me is almost disappointed that Eros stopped the man, and I hate myself for it. It could have been over. I could have finally been free from all the pain and death and heartache that I live hand in hand with.

He takes another step towards me.

My chest heaves with unsteady breath and an uncontrollable heart.

The flickering light adorning the brick wall of the alleyway shines down on him as he makes his way forward. My breath catches in my throat, his sickeningly beautiful features of his face becoming visible in the cape of darkness.

The raven colored locks hanging over his forehead are like looking up at an endless night sky with no stars and no moon, just a void of endless shadows and all consuming dusk.

His hair casts a soft shadow over his slightly hooded eyes that watch me like a hawk, waiting for me to make another move, almost daring me to.

"Congratulations, you're calling the girl who was just almost strangled to death names." I rasp, finally managing to form a sentence. My voice is painfully hoarse from all the bruises I can already feel forming around my battered throat.

I don't have the patience to deal with his existence as a whole right now. Not that I ever have.

His jaw clenches impossibly further, the structure of his face so utterly flawless it's almost impossible not to not admire.

It's sad that such a beautiful face was wasted on someone like Eros Vandare.

"Get up." Is his only response, completely ignoring my poor attempt at a joke.

Everything in me tells me to run as he watches me like a predator watches its prey. His eyes are too cunning, too observant, too dangerous.

Any other day I would push back against him and refuse to listen to any order a man dares to give me, especially this one. The pure audacity of men is what obligates me to never graciously comply with any of their daily demands they love throwing around.

I would say anything I can just to piss him, not that I even have to always say something. Sometimes he gets ticked off from my mere presence.

But tonight, I am too tired to fight.

My pulse quickens as I slowly stand up, my body groaning in protest. I keep my eyes narrowed at him the entire time, being forced into the defensive position as Eros prowls toward me.

My legs tremble beneath my pounding head and aching heart, every part of me on the verge of shutting down any minute.

I refuse to let him see me break.

He glances over my disheveled clothes and messy hair, slowly shaking his head in disapproval. He takes in every inch of my—probably unsettling—appearance, his eyes betraying nothing and giving me no clue to what he could possibly be thinking.

"Don't tell me you're too awestruck by me to continue barking orders," I cough out through a rough smile.

His eyes harden, seeing the coldness in my smile and the lack of emotion emanating from my every breath. It's not like he is used to seeing emotion from me, I don't think anyone is.

If only I was as emotionless as I pretend to be, then surviving this world would be a lot easier.

"I am not in the mood for your bullshit tonight, Arabella."

The sound of his voice sends chills down my spine, the threats insinuated in his very tone making my body instinctively prepare to run. I've never been a fighter, I am a runner. Just as history has proven time and time again.

I think even the breeze is frozen in place around him, Eros being the only one capable of intimidating even Mother Nature herself.

The ruthless breeze combined with the sting of his merciless words make the small hairs rise on the back of my neck. The world falls silent around us.

I dig my bloody nails into my teared open palms, forming half crescent moons in the sensitive skin. I'm not in the mood either, yet here we are.

"Then I don't think you were the man for the job, Eros." I taunt with a broken smirk, but my voice is so raw I am barely intelligible.

Eros effortlessly tucks the gun back into his belt, keeping his deadly eyes locked on me.

I don't know if I should be thankful or disappointed now that I know he's not going to pull the trigger on me.

"Maybe if you quit acting like this, mommy and daddy wouldn't have to hire you a babysitter." His voice is unwavering, vague of any life behind it.

"It's adorable how little you know, and how much you think you do." I laugh bitterly, the sound like nails being dragged across a chalkboard.

Violent coughing follows the agonizing noise, the pain from the movement becoming so blinding I can barely manage to stay on my feet. But I keep the smile on my face, thoroughly amused by his ignorance.

"I am so done with you." His breath appears in the air in front of him, running a hand through his messy hair.

Tears cloud my eyes as I begin struggling to breathe from the pain, my smile faltering.

My gaze flickers all around, fighting to maintain my grip on consciousness. I try to focus on the dark snake tattoo that trails up Eros's scarred hand, wrapping around once before disappearing under the sleeve of his black trenchcoat.

He had time to put on a jacket before coming after me, and if that's not embarrassing, I don't know what is.

"Then maybe you should quit, Eros. We both know you have enough money so I don't know why you willingly choose to stay and ruin my fucking life." I try to smile just to screw with him, but I can't.

He and I both know I mean every word.

"Non ti devo alcuna spiegazione." He switches to his native language, making me almost like him better. At least when he speaks Italian I don't understand what he is saying. Because when I do understand, I hate him tenfold.

But not understanding what he is saying doesnt stop the irrational anger that washes over me.

"Nobody here knows what that means so how about shove it somewhere and leave me the hell alone."

Eros makes me more mad than anyone I have ever met, other than Diana Aquilino.

At this point, I have to consider myself impressed.

He brings out the side of me that I thought died long ago, that angry and fiery girl who I believed was destined to be forever buried after that night in the woods.

But somehow whenever this one man is around, she crawls her way out of the dirt and roots, fighting nail and teeth just to snap at this cocky and arrogant son of a bitch.

Still, there is a small part of me that is relieved when I feel this way, because at least I feel.

Even if it's anger and hate, it's better than the void I am drowning in most days filled with nothing but the blood of my bleeding soul. It bleeds silently, steadily, and no one but me knows.

Sometimes, the blood loss leaves me in this state of numbness, like a bodily wound, where I am unable to feel anything—both physically and mentally. And it's scary, so incredibly scary.

I can't feel the sadness for what is my life. I can't feel the all consuming guilt for what I've done. I can't feel the anger for all the cruel jokes that God has decided to play on me by keeping me here.

And when I am that emotionless, drowning girl, I feel like death has found me alive. And a part of me still thinks it has.

But then there are the days when I feel everything.

Yet even on those days, I still pretend to be emotionless and unfeeling because I refuse to let anyone see my weakness. I've learned the hard way that the only thing trusting people does is lead to pain.

I refuse to let anyone in for that exact reason.

They can think of me as a heartless bitch if they want, or think of me as one of the monsters that haunts me, but it doesn't matter as long as they don't end up dead and I don't end up hurt.

"How about for once do something for someone other than yourself and stop being a fucking headache," his voice snaps me back to reality.

I just scoff. If only he knew what it was like living in my head, then he would know what a headache I can really be.

Eros has hated me from the moment we met when he was hired as my personal bodyguard four months ago after—everything happened.

Against my will, my parents tracked down the deadliest and most highly skilled individuals they could find, all in order to protect their beloved daughter who can't ascend to the throne if she was dead or missing.

Because much to my dismay, they actually need to keep me alive.

And after we went through a few lesser bodyguards who I managed to scare away, my parents were so desperate they decided they needed the worst of the worst, someone who won't be deterred no matter how 'psychotic' their daughter might be.

So when one of the deadliest assassins to ever rise to power in the Italian Assassins Guild had applied for the job, that was it.

For Eros Vandare was a terrifying myth that had washed over Italy in just a few years and slowly the rest of the world, horrifying stories following the 'demon's' every move.

Any tragedy that happened in Italy—any death, it was naturally assumed that it was Vandare who was the root of it.

He became the monster who no one knows if he is real or not, the man who had parents telling their children, "If you keep behaving like that, Vandare is going to come for you."

No one can differentiate what is the truth or a legend when it comes to the man standing in front of me.

I subconsciously glance down to the dead body and the crimson colored blood trailing towards Eros from the man's head, like it has some sort of ethereal call towards him.

What's really sickening is the fact that my father loved him the second he learned of his history.

Within a couple of days Eros was flown here in Philadelphia all the way from Italy. And when I woke up the next morning, he had already been almost completely moved into the manor, making it his life's mission to protect the daughter of Idris Karve.

Idris Karve, the head of the Cosa Nostra. The most powerful man in the underworld.

My parents at least did one thing right when they hired Eros as a bodyguard, they got one of the deadliest men to ever breathe to preserve my life, and he is doing just what was intended.

I do know that it's my fault for why Eros hates me. I would hate me too if I was him—or anyone else forced to live in my company. But there is not a single part of me that regrets what I did or said to make him grow to despise me overtime. I am simply too tired and don't care enough to regret it.

I have much worse things to regret than pissing off the heartless assassin standing in front of me.

If anything he should be glad he hates me and has no interest in getting close to me. If it were any other way—he would end up hurt just like everyone else who has tried and failed to love me and the human form of a curse I am.

I don't even fully remember when I met Eros for the first time, having been so numbed from the pain and so lost in myself that nothing else mattered.

He is the most beautiful man I have ever seen, was the first thing I thought when I saw him for the very first time. Between his dark hair and ice blue eyes holding so many haunted ghosts inside of them, I had never seen anything like him.

But then he opened his mouth and his beauty was nothing more than the pretty cover to all the pages holding how truly unbearable this man is.

I remember him saying something after the first couple hours that drove me over the edge, making me want to rip out my hair. And then I remember finally snapping at him for the first time, telling him that I would much better prefer him if he was dead. And I wasn't joking.

Then an argument ensued from there and we have been at eachothers throats ever since.

I have ran away seven times, including tonight. And I think part of the reason I hate him so much is because he finds me everytime. He's the only thing standing between me and my freedom.

A few months ago, I was willing to do anything to be free of this world. I was willing to rip apart whoever and whatever was in my way.

But there will be no more games of cat and mouse between us after tonight. No more running, and no more chasing.

I give up.

The war that I am forever in between who I am and who I should be is finally coming to a halt.

"But I'm so good at it," I acknowledge with sarcasm drenched in my tone.

My teeth chatter lightly against each other, my face beginning to go completely numb from the cold air that autumn invites with her.

"We're leaving." His voice is tight as he speaks, "now."

My heart begins pounding too fast, the idea of going back to that manor causing panic to crawl its way up my throat. It diggs its sharp claws into my skin, appearing in the form of rising goosebumps.

I take a step back, stumbling slightly.

Eros looks like he is going to strangle me just as the man did, but this time make sure the results are permanent.

"I don't understand you." He sneers, the anger and hate practically rolling off of him in waves and crashing against my body that is still rough with small tremors. "I don't understand how someone can have all that you have and still choose to act like such a brat."

"You will never understand me, so how about you save yourself a lot of trouble and stop trying." I bite out, my voice cracking as tears threaten to fall. I don't care what he says to me, his words mean nothing. I just don't want to go back to the place I am supposed to call home.

Back to the people I am supposed to call parents.

But I know that no matter how hard I fight it, I will be forced to return.

I shakily step over the dead man's body, biting my lip harshly to try and not look down at the green eyes staring lifelessly at me.

I walk towards my dirty backpack discarded on the floor, the man having must dropped it when he charged after me.

I let out a sharp wince, bending over to grab the bag off of the alleyway floor, trying to ignore the purple pigment beginning to spread from my fingertips down my palms from the cold.

Eros is closer than he was before, moving with such silent grace he is like a weightless shadow partly crafted of the night.

I slide the torn bag onto my back, my eyes beginning to sting from each movement hurting more than the last.

Uneasiness suddenly wraps its hand around the back of my neck, tugging my head up towards Eros. The naturally neurotic part of my brain must think he is going to randomly attack me if my eyes aren't on him and watching him every second.

He only crosses his arms over his broad chest, every toned muscle within them pressing against the sleeves of his jacket moving together in one alluring movement.

"You think I want to understand you, Bella?" He says so darkly that I think even the shadows cower behind me. "You think I give a damn about you? I just have known too many people just like you and am incapable of wrapping my mind around the selfishness that you are able to possess."

God, he really knows nothing. But I prefer it that way.

His musk engulfs me as I take a single step closer to him, the smell of fresh rain on the horizon and pine trees on a quiet night filling my senses.

The perfection this man possesses almost makes me hate him more. It's so unfair that someone like him is who God deemed worthy of being so achingly beautiful that he is almost painful to look at.

A heartless murderer is the one blessed with the looks of an angel weaved together by the night.

Someone who murdered innocent people, ruined families, destroyed countless lives.

I glare up at him, ignoring the way his solid frame towers over me by almost a foot, "since you seemed to have forgotten, I am the heir to the mafia. And you, Eros Vandare," I spit out his name like it leaves a bad taste in my mouth, "are an assassin from some impoverished, insignificant town in Italy. So stay in your goddamned place."

A low growl rumbles darkly in the back of Eros's throat, the sound so murderous my pulse quickens into a silent, raging drum. But I don't back down.

I coldly push past Eros, making my way down the dark strip of the town, "I am ready to go. Take me home."

The word home makes bile rise in my throat, the world twisting around me as I walk towards the black SUV pulled to the curb just outside of the alleyway.

Eros does not say a single word as he follows behind me, stealthily watching for any sign of danger. His gaze burns into the side of my head as I use my sleeve to try and wipe away the wetness forming in my eyes.

I am losing the battle to the emotions sweeping through me, and I wish more than anything that the floor beneath me would open up and swallow me whole. Then I would never have to face Eros again, never have to face my parents, and never have to face the mirror holding the face I hate more than anything.

My head drops as I get settled in the passenger seat of the car, letting my hair fall over my face and hide the fact that the storm in my mind is ripping apart every last beautiful thing in my heart.

The car hums to life, and I refuse to look over at the man driving it. Instead I just stare out the window at the silent sidewalk and try to pretend that I am going anywhere but my so-called home.

The cold air rattles the glass panes of the car as it drives through the mess of trees and dead leaves. I look away from the window the second we reach the part of the woods that makes my stomach turn to even look at.

The jagged scar on my jaw thrums when we come closer to the region that I managed to avoid in my attempted flee, the skin searing as if an invisible branding iron is pressed against it.

I curl up tighter in the seat, my body unable to regulate an even temperature from how long I've been out in the cold.

"You should probably pack warmer next time you decide to go on your midnight stroll," Eros mutters from beside me. He doesn't even bother to look at me, clearly disinterested in whatever I am doing as long as I am breathing and he gets his paycheck for the month.

"Thanks, I'll make sure I come to you for such enlightening advice next time."

"Want some actual advice? Stop being a dumbass." He drives steadily down the quiet road, the purr of the car almost lulling me to sleep.

I am thankful that Eros at least doesn't speed when he is pissed at me like my last bodyguard would do. I was hoping that one day we would just crash, but the feeling of the car speeding up so fast that the world outside of it became nothing more than a faded blur, and the engine getting more violent by the second made me feel sick to my stomach in a way I can't explain.

I want to scoff but it is painful to merely breathe through the damage the man caused.

"I will the day you stop being a dick all the time," I shoot back.

"It's not easy when I'm in the presence of your highness all the time."

"Hilarious," I comment dryly. "I really think you missed your calling in the comedic world."

My voice is so hoarse it is almost painful to listen to.

He just shoots a deadly glare in my direction, not looking at me for a second more than he has to.

For how cold Eros is around me, it's nothing compared to how he is around others.

Either I've just annoyed him enough to get him to come out of his shell, or he just talks more when it's the two of us because I could care less about mindless small talk and the silence is driving him insane.

Cold washes over me as Eros rounds a coroner I know all too well, the manor coming back into view. It is almost taunting me with its gloriousness, smiling as it sees I am forced to return.

My chest tightens painfully. I think of all the ways my father could react once Eros informs him with pleasure that I tried to escape once again.

The last time was supposed to be the last time according to the bloody nose I had leaving my father's office. My mother simply wiped the blood once my father could no longer see us, apologizing for his actions and promising me that it won't happen again. Much to my fathers dismay, I am the only child of the Karves because of the infertility that jinxed my mother after she had me. He used to tell me when I was young that it was my fault our family was damned because they will never be able to have a male because of me.

As much as he would prefer a male heir, I am the only option he has to continue the bloodline.

So my future consists of an arranged marriage with someone of power and becoming the comare of the Cosa Nostra. I will bear the children that my husband wants, raise them, and be doomed to the same fate as my mother.

The car comes to a steady halt in front of the two sets of grand stairs, connected into one long porch that the dark manor wears proudly like a skirt.

The stone structure wraps around the front, caged in by ancient balustrade railings that I have leaned against so many nights, just staring out into the woods during nightfall.

The engine cuts after a second and Eros steps out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him. I inhale sharply before scraping together any remaining bravery that will help get my legs to move.

I step out and oxygen is suddenly feeling in short supply.

Eros walks in front of me, each movement he makes deliberate and intentional.

I almost wonder what made him this way, what trained him to be this way. Almost.

The sentinels posted on each side of the entrance watch curiously, one of them looking as if he is going to say something to me. The glare he receives from Eros immediately makes him clamp his mouth shut, looking away.

Eros reaches the entrance doors, pulling one open without looking back at me. He walks through and I am so focused on my breathing that I don't notice as he drops it, leaving it to hit my aching body.

"Asshole," I grunt under my breath, pushing it off of me and stumbling into the dimly lit foyer decorated like a castle fallen from glory.

Eros ignores my comment, "it's three in the morning, Bella. Go to bed and stay there."

"And here I thought we had so much fun together." My tone is less condescending than intended.

I need to be able to get enough oxygen to my brain again so that I can properly make him lose his everloving mind.

"I haven't had fun since the day I met you. Now go to bed," his cold tone leaves no room for argument.

With the final word, Eros tensely walks past me and back towards his room, not sparing me another glance as if I were only a piece of gum on the bottom of his shoe.

I watch as he disappears around the corner, the room feeling larger from the lack of his overpowering presence that always seems to be around. Angrily lifting up my middle finger in the direction he went, I pretend it's his cocky face and that almost makes me feel better.

I drop my hand after a second, turning back towards the front door. The thought of running out of it again crosses my mind before shaking my head, wondering if I actually have a death wish.

I take a deep breath before turning around and unsteadily making my way up the double staircase that reaches up into the second floor of the manor.

My bedroom door creaks open when I finally reach it and it takes me a minute to scramble together enough willpower to step inside. It's freezing cold and eerily silent, void of any life.

I look towards the small window across from me that is still wide open, rolling my eyes at the ignorant hope I had crawling out of it.

My bag falls to the floor, and I kick the door shut behind me. The noise echoes throughout the room and bounces off of the walls like a clap of thunder amongst a silent night.

I don't even bother to peel off my bloodied clothes before crawling into my crisp white sheets. The dirt and blood on my body and clothes stain the pure white all around me, and it's almost humorous what a metaphor of my life this pathetic moment is.

I curl into a tight ball to try and protect myself from the cold, silently holding myself in the midst of the darkness because I'm the only one who ever will.

The only warmth provided to me are the salty tears streaming down my cheeks and burning small ravines of old mascara through the pale skin.

I wait for the oncoming darkness to finally take me, ready to finally be free of the bounding chains of my thoughts—and pain—and everything else in this world.

I wonder if this is what death feels like, is the last thing that echoes through my drifting mind before the desolate night swallows me whole.

꧁꧂