Clipping Thorns (Withered Rose Book 2), page 23
Chapter Fourteen
You know, I have personally never liked Hans, but I feel like his brutal personality was a real driving force in this chapter. If there was ever a time where I was happy to have him in the book, it was today XD
Chapter Fifteen
Rest in peace, Ja'meek Williams...
Chapter Sixteen
I love writing Rosa's POV because she brings in the spiritual aspect of the book. Her faith in God honestly inspires me, which is strange because God blessed me to write her character, haha! But I love doing Biblical research for her chapters, working in the Word and applying a message to her journey. It gives meaning to her struggles and I think that makes the series come alive. Being able to relate to a character on a spiritual level is an amazing thing. Christian fiction is so awesome XD
Chapter Seventeen
Amory *seems* to be on his way to salvation, but I feel like it's going to be a painful journey. Some people must be broken before God can put them together. How much will Amory face before he finally gives in to the Voice of God? We shall see XD
Chapter Eighteen
Poor Morgen... He and Conrad have slowly become favorite characters of mine. But this is war. Blood will be shed. I hope you're prepared.
Chapter Nineteen
Do you think Volkov will honor the two-day grace period???
Chapter Twenty
This is one of my favorite chapters. So many unplanned things happened! Morgen was NOT supposed to survive and the Rosa lookalike was not supposed to become a major player. I'm excited about what's to come. Already looking forward to Book III!
Chapter Twenty-One
Ahh I love Rosa's chapters for the chance to work in more of my faith... I couldn't wait to write this one. I hope you enjoyed it XOXO
Chapter Twenty-Two
Do you think Amory will learn to trust God? I think that's a lesson some of us end up learning the hard way lol
Chapter Twenty-Three
Is anyone else excited about Rosa's glow-up??
Chapter Twenty-Four
I loved this chapter and was honestly tempted to end the story here. But we've got to end the way we started! With little miss Rosie XOXO
Chapter Twenty-Five
Thank you Jesus and thank YOU so much for sticking with me through yet another novel! This book was just as fun and exciting as the last and I can't wait to get into Book III! Keep your eyes peeled for Starting Over, the last installment of the trilogy. It will be here before you know it!
Keep scrolling to read a free sample of Starting Over!
Free sample of Book III, Starting Over
Chapter One
In the silence, I clamped my hand over my mouth to muffle my own cries. Salty tears streamed down my cheeks as I heaved into my palm, snot dribbling over my raw knuckles. My sore shoulders shook with each sob, my broken ribs ached each time I drew breath. I was broken. In mind, body, and spirit. But as much pain as I had already endured, I knew there was more to come.
The stone floor was cold beneath my bare feet. I adjusted my position, trying to sit as close to the wall as possible while avoiding the puddle of urine I’d left just off to my right. There was a tooth on the floor, not far from me. I wouldn’t kid myself by thinking it belonged to one of the men who’d attacked me. As I worked my jaw, swollen tongue fishing around in my bloody mouth, I found the hole in my gums where the lost tooth had once been. Oberon had probably knocked it out. He had thrown the first punch when I was dragged into the room.
My own uncle.
My sobs turned to whimpers as I heard footsteps approaching my dark little room. The quiet solitude had broken my mind—crippling every thought, filling them with fear in its silent aguish. I was stuck in a dimly lit room with no windows and only one giant, metal door with a massive crank to let me know I was locked inside. I had no idea how long I’d been in the room, but I had used the bathroom three times—once when I’d been punched so hard, I couldn’t help myself—and twice because I just couldn’t hold it any longer after the men had left.
Three days, I reasoned, wiping at my puffy eyes. They hadn’t fed me, hadn’t let me bathe, hadn’t even treated any of my injuries. But they made sure to check on me every five hours. I kept track of every hour in my head, ticking them off on my bloody fingers after counting to 3600—the number of seconds in an hour. When they checked on me for the third time and still hadn’t brought any food or bandages with them, I realized they weren’t checking to help me recover, they were making sure I hadn’t died.
The footsteps drew nearer, just outside the door now. I gasped and scooted even closer to the wall, trying to hide in the shadows. The movement sent fire through my behind, rubbing brush-burns against my naked bottom, but I kept struggling. As if I could get away.
When the door opened, the creak was loud enough to swallow the shamefully feminine squeal of fear that escaped me. I was huddled in the corner, hands up in defense of the burning light streaming in, my swollen eyes peeled open as wide as they could.
There was a man standing in the doorway. It wasn’t until I heard his rumbling baritone that I realized it was my father.
My fear nearly tripled.
“Amory,” he said calmly.
I choked out a sob.
Klaus, Onkel Oberon, a General named Elias and another named Adolf, a bodyguard named Otto, and a grunt called Jürgen entered the room behind my father. Screams echoed around us—it took me a moment to realize they were coming from me.
I wasn’t afraid of another beating; it was the sight of Jürgen that sent a chill up my spine. He was only a grunt, but he had been the most brutal. He had been the one to strip me naked in front of all the others. He had been the one to hold me down. But he hadn’t punched me. He hadn’t kicked me. His hands brought gentle touches that sent talons of fear clawing down my body.
The other men had watched it happen, expecting me to fight back, but I’d been too weak after two days of brutal violence. It didn’t hurt as much as it shamed me. Humiliated me. But that was the point of all this. To break my mind and body.
That day had been so normal. At fifteen, I’d ridden my bike out to Staten Island to meet up with Giovanni. There was a guy there who would sell us cigarettes to smoke while we watched pretty Russian girls toss rocks into the canal. But when I got there, I realized Gio had brought his kid sister along so we couldn’t bum smokes off anyone—not in front of her, at least. Gio had said his father would kill him if Rosa came home smelling like smoke. So we’d walked the docks without any cigarettes and whistled at the Russian princess when she walked by with her body guard.
Sofia Volkov. She had been pretty even as a girl. And she’d had a pretty older cousin named Dominika.
That day, Dominika had tagged along with Sofia, walking a few paces behind her cousin during their little stroll. Sofia was wearing a white dress that made her look like an angel, but Dominika…
Dominika was wearing a red blouse and a tiny little matching skirt I’m positive her Uncle Mikhail knew nothing about. Neither Gio nor I could keep our eyes off her. We followed her along the docks, whistling and shouting at her until she finally turned and gave us a seductive smile. Gio, ever the flirt, had dared her to come over and give one of us a kiss. She had shaken her head but when her cousin and her guard had turned away, she held a finger to her lips and then flashed us.
I had almost peed myself, standing there staring at Dominika with her shirt up and her pale breasts right there for me to see. It was the first time I’d seen a naked girl in person. Gio too. Neither of us had any idea how to react except to stare and stumble over ourselves as she lowered her shirt and sauntered away, giggling the entire time.
We tried to follow her, but as soon as we crossed the crowded streets, their guard started yelling and we had to take off. Three Wolves chased us all the way to the ferries—I had to carry Gio’s kid sister as we tore through the crowd, laughing and howling. When we boarded one of my father’s boats, Gio turned and mooned the guards who’d been chasing us, and we shouted the lyrics to a Russian song as we waved at them while the ferry pulled away.
When I was snatched out of my bed that night, my first thought was that I was being punished for what’d happened with Dominika. She wasn’t a mafia princess, but she was high-ranking enough for us to be whipped for looking at her body without her father’s permission. But as I stared up at my father and the six German men he’d allowed to beat me, I realized what this really was.
Uwe Jäger pulled up the legs of his pants before he squatted in front of me, looking right into my battered face as he said, “Do you want the pain to stop?”
I nodded. “Bitte, Vater.”
“I’m going to ask you a question,” he said calmly, “if you answer correctly, I’ll tell them to leave you alone.”
Just to mess with me, Elias stepped forward and I realized he was holding a bat. My ribs ached at the sight. Not even a day ago he had taken that bat to my body, like I was a criminal—not the son of the Jägermeister. But I was fifteen. I wasn’t some innocent kid anymore. I was a man. At least that’s what this whole thing was supposed to make me into. A mafioso. A Hunter.
I was being initiated.
Jürgen smiled down at me from over my father’s shoulder. I inched backwards, trying hard not to cry anymore. But it was hard to focus on Vater when Klaus was wrapping a chain around his fist and Otto was staring at his razorblade, inspecting it. My skin stung as I watched him, remembering each time he ran the knife over my back and chest. I would have scars for the rest of my life because of him.
“Amory,” Vater’s voice brought me back.
I blinked at him.
“Ja?”
“My question,” he said slowly.
I nodded.
“You’re fifteen now. Old enough to join me in the business. When you’re older, you will replace me, son. You will run the entire German mafia. But first you must be initiated. You must start at the bottom of the barrel. As a grunt. And when you are ready, you will wear the crown.”
I nodded again, wincing as I swallowed.
Vater leaned toward me, his dark hair falling into his face. The light from the hallway made shadows dance along the concrete walls, a pillar of darkness covered half of my father’s face as he gazed at me. His stare was intense, regarding me like he was looking at a stranger. Not his own child.
I resisted the urge to shiver as I stared back. I didn’t want him to know how afraid I was.
“Do you accept this position?” Vater asked softly.
My mouth opened to answer, but no words would come.
Vater sighed into the silence and pushed to his feet. Klaus took a step—I started screaming again.
“Wait—Vater, wait!”
Uwe watched as Klaus came closer, chain in hand. The sound of the links rattling together was oddly reminiscent of the sound of chattering teeth. I wanted to scream—I already was screaming. Shamelessly. Loudly. And scooting away like I was a mad, feral animal.
Oberon slapped me so hard, I thought he loosened another tooth.
“Please!” I squeaked, throwing my hands up in surrender.
Vater calmly slid his hands into his pockets. “Do you accept this position, Amory?”
The mafia was ruled by Uwe’s command. I wouldn’t be able to escape him or his beatings if I said yes. But I had a greater fear of what would happen if I said no.
“I—I…”
I wet myself.
I couldn’t help it. I hadn’t even known I’d had to pee; I only felt the sudden warmth bloom in my bladder and then it was running down my dirt-stained legs, puddling around my feet.
Elias laughed.
My father sighed again.
I scrambled back and took a deep breath. “I accept this position!” I had no idea if it was too late or not, but I was willing to agree to anything if it meant Vater would call off his men.
They all stopped moving toward me and glanced back at my father. The silence that stormed through the room left me dizzy and weak in my pee-streaked knees.
Very slowly, Uwe pulled his hands from his pockets and turned to leave. He spoke over his shoulder as he reached for the metal door. “Bring him.”
They dragged me naked through the halls of the warehouse and then shoved me into the back of an SUV. I passed out during the ride; I don’t know if it was because of nerves, exhaustion, or injury, but when I woke, I realized I was in a bed with my wounds finally wrapped and a bowl of soup waiting on my bedside table.
A primal sort of hunger overcame me as I spied the bowl. I ignored the screaming pain in my bones and muscles as I crawled across the bed and took the soup in my hands. I didn’t bother with a spoon, just drank the salty chicken broth right from the bowl, enjoying the warmth as it trickled down my chin and neck. When I finished, I burped and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, immediately feeling lightheaded and sluggish at the same time.
There was a water bottle on the little table, I grabbed it and twisted the cap, hands trembling as I raised the drink to my bruised lips. Half of it spilled down my chest, making me realize that I was naked from the waist up. Someone had finally given me a pair of underwear to hide my shame. But the flesh that was exposed was hidden by a different sort of cover.
Scars. Wicked carvings going through my chest and over my back. Thick, bulging scabs bubbled over recent wounds. Every move I made left me wincing as I looked down at myself. I was ugly. Grotesque. But I didn’t mind. I’d been initiated. That meant I was entering an ugly world. There was no room for beauty—only ashes.
I reached up to scratch my head and realized they’d shaved my head. That must have happened while I was passed out. Every new grunt had their hair removed, though I wasn’t sure if it was out of punishment or convenience. Half of mine had been ripped out from Onkel dragging me by my hair. The rest had been matted with blood.
As I ran my hand over my smooth scalp, I wondered how the rest of me looked. My face, my back. Probably just as bad as the parts of me I could see.
The door to my room opened to let Uwe inside. He was followed by a pretty woman wearing a white dress and low heels. She looked older than me, probably late teens or early twenties. I wasn’t sure.
Vater closed the door, the sound of the lock sent a tendril of fear brushing over my heart.
“Amory,” he said evenly, “welcome to the German mafia.”
I nodded.
“Thank you, Vater.”
“You survived the initiation.”
I nodded again.
“But there is one more test.”
My eyes flicked to the woman who only smiled at me. I didn’t know what to make of the look on her face—was she encouraging me? Comforting me? Mocking me?
Vater spoke again. “You let Jürgen turn you into a little girl.” His voice was dark, like the whole thing was all my fault.
I lurched forward as the memories of Jürgen’s hands on me replayed in my head. I wanted to vomit, and I’m sure I would have if I hadn’t slapped a hand over my mouth. I’d just gotten my first meal in three days, and I had no idea when I’d get another. I didn’t want to waste my food.
Vater straightened his shoulders, making himself look taller. “I don’t have any daughters.”
I swallowed, trying to control my breathing, trying to ignore the clammy feel of Jürgen’s hands ghosting over my body, touching me in places that were forbidden, in ways that were sinful. The pain wasn’t half as bad as the shame, the fact that my father and uncle had watched. The fact that all I’d done was scream and cry. I had brought shame to Vater. I should have fought back. But I’d been too weak.
Vater jerked his head at the woman, never taking his eyes off me. “It’s time to prove to me you aren’t a little girl.”
The woman stepped forward and slipped down the straps of her dress. It fell to the floor at her feet; she stepped out of it and gracefully removed her heels. When she stood upright again, that odd smile was on her face—it was the only thing she was wearing.
Every hair on my body raised. I felt my muscles stiffen. I felt my mouth fall open.
“Vater,” I exhaled.
He snapped at the woman. “Get on the bed.”
“Vater,” I said again.
He took one large step forward and suddenly his hand was around my throat. “You will take her,” he hissed in my face. “Or you will never leave this room.”
With a shove, he released me to fall back into the covers. I stared at him in shock, wishing for the days when he would have whipped me for looking at a girl inappropriately. Now he wanted me to lay with one right in front of him.
I had no fanciful dreams about the first time I’d have a woman. I wasn’t waiting for marriage—or even thinking about it. And I wasn’t interested in finding my soulmate. I wasn’t even sure if I had a soul. I secretly hoped I didn’t … because I was sure Vater would have taken that from me too.
No matter what I’d imagined of my first sexual experience, I hadn’t guessed it would play out like this. As some sort of twisted gang initiation.
This is the part of mafia life they never mention. In the cool movies, in the dark thriller stories, in the dirty little romance novels you read at night. They don’t tell you how you’re beaten and raped and then forced to sleep with someone you don’t know. They don’t tell you that the men who hurt you are your own relatives and friends. They don’t mention that the goal is to survive initiation, but while you’re being initiated all you wish for is death.
Waking up alive seems like a curse once it’s all over. Because that means it was all real. It wasn’t a dream, or even a nightmare. It’s reality and there is no escape.
The mattress sank with the weight of the woman as she crawled over to me. I ignored her, keeping my swollen eyes locked on Uwe.
“Vater…” I tried once more.
His voice was a growl and his fingers twitched as he glared at me, aching to reach for the gun holstered at his hip. I believed he would shoot me if I disobeyed his order. So I swallowed and steeled myself for the command I knew was coming.
“Prove that you’re a man, Amory. It’s time.”
