Ruthless liars bullies o.., p.1
Ruthless Liars: Bullies of Silver Hills Book One, page 1
Ruthless Liars
Bullies of Silver Hills Book One
Blakely York
Contents
Foreword
Prologue: Why Choose?
1. The Family Business
2. Stupid Gets You Dead
3. Bad Girls Get Punished
4. Lessons in Intimidation
5. Blood Brothers
6. Between a Rock and a Fucked-Up Place
7. On a Clock
8. All Work and No Play Makes Andres Impossible to Live With
9. Her Again
10. Well, That Worked Better Than I’d Hoped
11. Late-Night Talks
12. Rushed
13. To Catch a Spy
14. An End to the Boredom
15. Couldn’t Have Gone Better
16. Sacrificial Virginity
17. The New Toy
18. A Struggle to Please
19. Whiplash
20. Rash Actions Get Harsh Punishments
21. Playtime
22. Getting Angry Can Make a Girl Sloppy
23. Second to Command
24. Blackmail
25. The Jobs of a Brother Are Never Done
26. Balancing Act
27. Not All Doms Are the Same
28. Sore, Tired, and Stupid
29. Bears of Truth Will Set You Free
30. New Limits
31. Much Needed Vacation with Family and a Pet
32. Made to Be the Fool
33. Poor Life Choices Lead To Dire Situations
34. Fuck Snow
35. Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire
Foreword
This series explores traumatic themes through the safety of fiction and is not meant to romanticize these elements; instead, it embraces the very real psychology of trauma and sexuality.
While such topics deserve to be approached with sensitivity, everyone's journey is unique, and what may be re-traumatizing for some may be healing for others.
The dark romance genre allows women to navigate complex emotions in a safe space that creates a therapeutic outlet to process trauma, providing a psychologically valid means to confront and reinterpret past experiences while allowing individuals to reclaim control over their narratives.
In these fantasies, individuals may willingly participate in a power exchange, allowing them to navigate their desires within a safe and consensual framework. This voluntary exploration can be a transformative experience, enabling women to reclaim self-agency.
By actively choosing to engage in these scenarios, women have the opportunity to redefine and assert their own boundaries, fostering a sense of empowerment and autonomy in their intimate lives; however, it's crucial to emphasize the importance of communication, trust, and consent in such explorations to ensure a positive and empowering experience.
Shaming women based on their reading choices restricts autonomy, and doing so can be a trauma trigger in itself; as such, we should support all women in healing in whatever way is best for them and stop telling them what that should look like. If that means avoiding dark romance or reading it like a fiend, either should be celebrated.
That said, not all relationships in life are healthy.
Some are downright toxic. While emulating truth in fiction is not romanticizing it, the observer may view the events as romantic on their own accord and should maintain accountability for their own interpretation.
It's essential to remember that the scenarios in dark romance novels don't depict ideal relationships–they reflect the reality of our imperfect world.
Ya know, especially if you’re a spy for the mafia and your target is three cartel brothers.
Prologue: Why Choose?
Elle
My choices weren’t so much choices as they were ultimatums, and what I’d believed to be absolute truth was, in fact, absolute bullshit.
I wasn’t protected by my mafia family.
I was in danger because of them.
They weren’t the only crime family out to hurt me, either. The Romero Brothers were as much a danger to me as I thought I was to them.
My bullies.
My tormentors.
My psychological captors.
After being thrust into a university that mafia families sent their heirs to—under circumstances that could lead me to a fate worse than death—my enemies would soon prove to be the only people left in this world who could save me.
But first, I had to fool my oppressors and hope I didn’t get caught.
The punishments for any perceived infractions were bad enough, but if these brothers knew what I was really up to?
I might not survive.
1
The Family Business
Elle
Before I could scream, a hand covered my mouth, and something sharp pressed against my throat, digging into the sensitive flesh.
The hot, muggy breath against my ear sent chills down my spine, rivaled only by the words spoken next.
“Don’t make a sound.”
The man’s large hand wrapped painfully around my arm and yanked me off the street into an alley. I tried to pull away, but the man threw me against a building, the back of my head smacking into the brick wall hard enough that my vision swam.
“Look at me, girl.” the man growled. “Do you know who I am?”
I stared into his eyes, one brown and the other a sickening milky white, with a scar that ran across his face, disfiguring his entire face.
Mean Mikey.
One of my uncle’s henchmen–the one I trusted the least, which was saying a lot in itself, but Mean Mikey was the kind who’s loyalty lay with whoever was offering the most cash for a job.
Sometimes that was my uncle…
And sometimes, that was my uncle’s enemies.
Of course, my uncle didn’t know that, and no one would believe a lowly cousin saying otherwise.
But his lack of loyalty wasn’t the only reason Mean Mikey terrified me more than anyone else who was part of my uncle’s criminal enterprise.
Even if he weren’t disfigured, the way he looked at women made my skin crawl, and whenever that lecherous gaze fell on me or my sister, my fight-or-flight instinct told me to take her and run.
But to date, I’d been too chicken shit to act on that, which was why I was in the situation I was in now.
I just didn’t realize how bad it was about to get.
Mean Mikey pressed the sharp point of his knife a little harder, and a droplet of blood slid down my neck toward my clavicle. “Answer when I speak to you!”
I’d been too stunned to react initially, but the threat bolted my attention to the very real danger in front of me.
I couldn’t speak with his hand covering my mouth, so I simply nodded as gently as I could with the knife still at my throat.
“Good. You’re coming with me, and you aren’t going to try and fight me.”
It wasn’t a question.
Nothing good would come from going anywhere with Mikey, but nothing good would come from fighting him, either.
I could run…
My gaze darted to the street twenty yards away.
People walked by on the sidewalks, and cars sped past. It wouldn't have taken much to get someone's attention. Surely, someone would help me get away from this monster.
“If you even try to make a run for it,” Mikey growled, tightening his grip over my mouth, “I will gut you and leave you to die on this street, and then I'll go visit your sister, Anna. She’s a sweet little thing, isn't she?”
I froze at Anna’s name; she was practically still a child, and horrifying images of what he could do to her flashed in my mind.
There was no doubt he meant every word he said. Mikey didn’t bluff. Ever. He might just gut me, but what he could do to Anna would be so much worse.
I can’t let that happen.
2
Stupid Gets You Dead
Elle
If I didn’t want Mikey to unalive me, I’d have to do whatever he wanted.
“I’ll behave,” I mumbled from behind his hand.
Mean Mikey’s expression turned from angry to disgruntled. “Shame. That doesn’t sound like much fun.” He re-sheathed his knife, then that same hand trailed up my thigh, over my hip, and toward my rib cage, sending a chill through to my bones. “I’m keen to see you fail.”
With that, he dropped his hands and grabbed my arm again to push me farther down the alley to the next street, and he didn’t say another word as he marched me all the way to a parking garage.
When I slowed down–because every woman knew you never wanted to let an attacker take you to a second location–his grip tightened.
Should I make a run for it?
Then I thought of Anna again and continued to march to what I assumed would be my end.
“Where did you say we’re going?” I asked as quietly and respectfully as I could despite the disgust I had for this man.
Mean Mikey’s face displayed his version of a grin. “I didn’t.” He turned his milky eye toward me. “And I’m not going to.”
We got to the far back corner, and the lights there had all been smashed. Even if there were cameras, no way would they be able to pick up anything. It was far too dark.
My legs weakened as we approached his car, and when he opened the trunk, instinct kicked in. I bolted away, but I only got maybe three steps before he w
“You little bitch.” He slammed my body against the car and bent me over the hood. “I thought you were going to behave, but it seems you need a lesson.”
My ribs took the brunt of the hit, knocking the air from my lungs, and he held me down so I couldn't take a full breath.
“I should just take what I want from you.” He pushed my skirt up, and I fought to get away from him, but he tightened his grip and held me down by my hair.
“Don’t do this!” Tears blurred my vision as he skimmed his hand from my thigh to my ass. “Please just stop!”
Not like this. I don’t want my first time to be this. I don’t want any time to be like this.
“You don’t want to do this,” I begged, trying to plead with him in some way he would care. “I’m sure my uncle will pay you if you bring me to him unharmed.”
His fingers traced over my ass and down between my thighs. “I got news for you, puttana.” Your Uncle doesn’t give a shit what happens to you.”
I fought harder, but he was too strong. “Maybe not, but he does care what happens to his property.”
I hated saying that. I hated going along with this idea that we were somehow subhuman in this world.
But clearly, Mean Mikey didn’t understand the promise my uncle had made to my mom to protect us. In Mean Mikey’s mind, thinking of us as a mafia boss’s property was the only thing that might get him to reconsider.
He stopped instantly and scowled at me, then pulled my hair back until I was on my feet and walked me over to the trunk.
“You’re right.” He laughed. “More right than you even realize. But if you think your uncle’s gonna save you, you’re in for a rude awakening.” He leaned in real close and practically breathed the next part in my ear. “And after what your daddy did, I’m sure I'll get my turn with you eventually.”
He ripped my purse from my arm and then pushed me in, bashing the side of my head against the edge. My vision swam. A strangled yelp escaped my lips as he slammed the trunk closed and locked me in darkness.
The engine roared to life. Red light shone through the seams around the brake lights, and the entire trunk vibrated. It jumped a little as we left the garage and turned onto a busy street.
I didn’t know how long it took for the haze in my mind to clear enough to let me think clearly, but I knew nothing good was waiting for me wherever Mikey was taking me.
Wiping away my tears, I tried to focus. Tears were not going to save my life, and I had to get out. I had to find my uncle.
Mikey had to have been working for someone else, someone my father had pissed off.
Uncle Vitale would know what to do. He was the head of the family. It was his job to protect us, and no matter what Mean Mikey believed, he was my mother's brother and he swore to her he would take care of us.
He wouldn’t let me down.
I need to hold onto that and not panic. Before she died, Mother had always said, “Stay calm. Panicking makes you stupid, and stupid gets you dead.”
I needed to be calm and be smart.
I needed a plan.
I needed to not get dead.
3
Bad Girls Get Punished
Elle
Think, Elle.
It was a great idea, if only I could, but while I should have been thinking about how to escape, all I could think about was what would happen to Anna if I didn’t.
I was the only one left to protect her since we’d lost our mother when she was eight and I was twelve, and with our father being the ‘man’ he was, it’s been my job to protect her.
When I was younger, I made excuses for him like he missed my mother, it was depression, and raising me and my sister was a lot of work. Eventually, I realized it was just who he was as a person. He did what he wanted to on his terms.
That left my sister up to me, and there was nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her safe.
Mainly, one to get me out of this trunk and get to my uncle. He would take care of Mikey and keep me and my sister safe. That was what a good girl would do, and I was raised to be a good girl.
I could try to get to my father, but he would probably be drunk or just not care or call me a liar. My uncle, though… He would see this as a move against the family. And any attack on the family was an attack on him.
An attack on him would not be tolerated, and he would handle it.
Personally.
Focus, Elle.
Step one: get out of this trunk.
I ran my hands over the hard metal shell above and in front of me, trying to feel for something that had some give. At those ridiculous safety assemblies in grade school, they told us that some trunks had an emergency lever to stop people from getting trapped. I just had to find that lever.
But the only light came when he tapped on the brakes, and even then, it wasn’t enough to see. I couldn’t see anything, and nothing gave way beneath my fingers.
Finally, I found one break in the plastic, a hole just big enough to fit two fingers in. But there was nothing in it–just a broken hinge, probably where the emergency release lever used to be.
Damn it!
The dirty, matted rug underneath me didn’t give way anywhere either, and my stomach roiled at the thought of what had dried and solidified the rough fibers.
With every speed bump and every turn, I was tossed around in the pitch black. I tracked the turns as best I could, but when he pulled onto the highway, there was no way to tell what direction we were heading or how far we had gone.
It didn’t take long for me to realize there was no hope of escape–and nothing I could use as a weapon to defend myself.
So how could I get word to my uncle for him to send someone to find me, hopefully before it was too late, if I couldn’t even get out of this trunk?
Sweat trickled down my back, making my cotton shirt stick uncomfortably to my skin, as I thought back to that assembly a lifetime ago.
When the emergency level failed, I should go for the brake lights, right? It took a bit to find the seams in the plastic shell that were likely the backing to the lights, but when I did, I gave them a few hard kicks.
By the third hit, the heel on my shoe broke. I’d maybe made a dent in the plastic, but the light hadn’t moved. The car started to slow, and I was no closer to an escape.
With no other alternatives, I started kicking harder, desperate to get help; maybe if I broke the light, I could stick my hand out and wave someone down.
Even if I succeeded at that, though, it’d be problematic. In our family, we absolutely never called the police. I was taught never to trust them, especially since one could never know who was paying their bills.
But surely, this was an extenuating circumstance.
I kicked again, and the car slammed on the brakes, throwing me back. I swore I could hear that asshole chuckle before he made a sharp turn, the tires squealing, and I didn’t have time to brace myself before I was thrown into the side.
My stomach rolled as a fresh wave of pain radiated from my head down my spine, making my teeth clench. If I could see, my vision would be swimming. I tried not to vomit.
By the time the car stopped, I was nowhere near making any headway with the brake light. The door slammed, and Mikey started talking. It took me a moment to realize he was on the phone with someone.
I tracked the sound of his voice coming closer and prepared to spring out at him when he popped the trunk.
The sudden bright light blinded me, but I only had one opportunity to attack.
