** REBEL SIMMONS POV **

I glanced around the warehouse, taking in the pallets and crates which held illegal weapons. The Vino warehouse had anything you could think of: AKs, sniper rifles, assault rifles, handguns, grenades, and I even think I spotted a bazooka.

Who needs a damn bazooka?

"Ever handle a gun before?" Isa asked as she lightly nudged my ribs lightly.

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

As I walked into the apartment escaping the chilling December air. My father had another strange woman on his lap. Ever since I was 9, this was a weekly occurrence. I'm sure that he kept his affair hidden in the past, but once my mom found him having sex with a prostitute in their room, he hasn't even made the slightest attempt at hiding his infidelity. Every weekend while she was working double shifts at the restaurant, he would always bring a new sleazy woman home.

"That's your kid?" The woman who on my fathers lap said as my father scowled.

"Cherry, don't lie to the little bitch." My dad slurred as he slapped her roughly on the back. The woman, who I presume is Cherry, tried to stand up from his lap.

My father then proceeded to grab her by her hair and pull her down to the floor. Cherry's screams filled our filthy apartment as he punched her in the face.

"Hey kid, come join us." He slurred as he walked to his bedroom, leaving me with a crying Cherry on the floor.

I attempted to help the red headed woman up, and she smacked my arm away roughly. "Don't fucking touch me you brat." She said as my father came back with his revolver in his hand as he stumbled over to us.

"Sit." He said pointing his revolver to the flimsy chair that matched our plastic dining table. He grabbed Cherry by the hair again, and shoved her down onto a chair. He sat next to her, roughly grasping onto her bright red locks. Her makeup was smearing from her tears, and her hair was disheveled.

"Russian roulette, you heard of it you little know it all?" He asked me as he loaded a single bullet in the chamber of the revolver. I gulped, fully aware of the game he was mentioning. Cherry's face paled at his words.

"Answer me bitch!" He yelled, smacking the table with his hand and cracking it in the process.

"Russian Roulette: a player places a single round in a revolver, spins the cylinder, places the muzzle against his or her head, and pulls the trigger." I uttered. Dad's never pulled out his revolver before. I know he keeps it in the top drawer of his dresser, but I've never seen it in person before.

"Let's play, shall we?" He smiled wickedly as he held it to his head. Cherry and I waited in anticipation as his finger wrapped around the trigger.

Please kill him. Please. Please. Please.

His fingers pressed down on the trigger, I held my breath in anxiety as I awaited the revolver to fire. His fingers fully pressed down on the trigger, and a loud click disturbed the deadly silence in the room.

No, no, no, no fuck!

My heart sank as my father smiled a despicable smile at me.

"Your turn you little brat." He said shoving the revolver to me across the table.

"What the hell is this! She's a fucking kid Johnny!" Cherry screamed attempting to get out of his hold on her hair.

"She's 14, she can fucking handle it!" He screamed in her face before he sat back down. My father glared at me, waiting for me to grab the revolver.

"Grab it." My father said coldly.

My shaky hands slowly made their way to the revolver, wrapping my fingers around the cold metal.

"Look at that, for once you're a fucking good little brat. Now put it against your head." My father growled.

I slowly placed the muzzle against my head. Sweat pooled down my face and my breathing was sporadic.

"Now pull the trigger." He said. Cherry was crying hysterically at this point.

I had two options:
Pull the trigger, or point it back at my father and shoot him. Either way, the odds were not in my favor. It would be a 20% chance that there's a bullet in this loaded chamber. 

A fathers is meant to love and cherish his family. To provide for them, lead them, guide his children through the shit storm called life. I looked up at my father, who was meant to protect me, looking down at me with a grin begging me to pull the trigger and end my life.

"What're you gonna do brat, cry like the little bitch you are." He laughed in my face. That's exactly what he wanted: a reaction. He wanted me to break down, physically and mentally, and I'd be damned if I allow him to break me anymore than he already has.

Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once.

It was at this moment, I felt as if my subconscious split. All emotions I had evaporated except for anger, pure anger. It was as if my spirit hallowed out, leaving behind nothing left to break. I felt numb, so fucking numb.

From now on, I refuse to let fear rule me.
I refuse to be treated like shit.
I refuse to let other dictate how I feel.
I refuse to be a coward.

Fearlessness and rebellion filled my body as my shaky hand steadied. I looked my father in the eyes as my finger quickly pressed down on the trigger.

*click*

"Looks like little Rebel is finally living up to her stupid name." My father laughed, the sinister sound filling the vacant apartment.

"Since you suddenly became so confident, why don't you pull the trigger for this whore over here." He said, pulling Cherry forward.

I waited for a moment... to feel something. Anything. Any inkling of emotion to pursued me from what I'm about to do, but there was nothing.

She looked up at me, with pleading brown eyes as she whimpered when the cool metal of the muzzle met her forehead.

"Do it, kid. Or I'll do it myself." My father growled as he gripped Cherry's head harder.

There's a 25% chance that it will kill her. I looked at the revolver in my hand, and prepared it to fire. She'll just have to take her chance.

I pulled the trigger, and a shot fired, echoing throughout the apartment. Blood splattered throughout our apartment, coating the plastic furniture with her crimson blood. Cherry's lifeless body flopped onto the table as my father started laughing again.

"Help me get rid of the body brat." My father said as he stumbled to the kitchen and pulled out a large butcher knife. "And start cleaning this shit up." He said, motioning to the blood splattered walls and furniture.

I walked into the bathroom, and gathered bleach, ammonia, and another other cleaning product I could find.

I looked at my blood riddled appearance in the cracked bathroom mirror, and I didn't recognize the girl staring back at me. Her eyes were dull, like a black hole that devoured all the light around it.

I waited for some sort of emotion, some sort of feeling to hit me. But instead, I felt... nothing. Nothing at all.

No empathy.
No remorse.
Nothing.

It was petrifying... yet liberating.

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

"Once or twice." I stated in a cold voice.

Neurologically, when you recall a memory, especially an emotionally charged one, your brain activates in the same regions as the time of the incident. Recalling the unfortunate memory of Russian Roulette, I felt every normal emotion flood out of my body.

As we neared the conference room, I could hear the commotion of a large group behind the tinted glass door. Their voices echoed throughout the warehouse, and their boisterous conversations filled the area with noise.

As soon as Dante opened the door, their booming conversations ceased, displaying his eminence within the Italian Mafia. I watched as he walked inside the deadly silent conference room and took his seat at the middle of the table. As soon as I stepped into the room, silence was soon replaced with cat calls and whistles. I walked in hesitantly, my eyebrow furrowed in skepticism towards the crowd of horny men.

Their vulgar and disgusting words made my skin crawl. Men and even some woman looked me up and down, as if undressing me with their eyes. To say I was uncomfortable would be an understatement.

"Who's this pretty thang?"

"Who's this bitch?"

"Damn mami!"

"I'd fuck you all night."

Ignoring the ill-mannered gang, I continued to walk further into the conference room. As I continued to walk past a group of hollering imbeciles, a sharp pain hit my rear, making me wince in pain. As the sound reverberated throughout the room, I realized that this idiot smacked my ass... hard. Anger immediately flowed through me as I thought of strategic ways to decapitate his disgusting hands from his body. I turned around to face him. He has a maliciously smug smile on his lips.

Just as the man was about to take another step towards me, blood painted the walls behind him. His lifeless body flopped onto the floor, a crimson puddle forming underneath him. I stared at the dead man in front of me and I felt... relieved, safe even.

Someone saved me. Someone protected me.

My gaze moved from the deceased man, to the origin of the bullet. I stared at Dante, who's gun was still up in the air, smoke emitting from the muzzle.

"If any of you so much as look at this woman the wrong way, you will suffer a much worse fate than a quick death." Dante growled menacingly as the members of the Mafia fell silent once again. My heart slightly fluttered at his protective words.

He nodded his head towards the seat to his right, and I immediately walked over and sat beside him. He pulled out his pocket square from his suit jacket and offered it to me. I looked at the silky fabric for a moment, the detailed stitching and intricate design meshed beautifully with his all black suit. Dante's eyes were soft and gentle, his grey irises shimmering brightly. I grabbed the silky fabric and began to wipe my blood filled face, inhaling his savory scent as I gave him a slight smile.

"Clean that shit up so we can begin." Dante said, quickly regaining his serious demeanor as he motioned to the lifeless body on the other end of the room. His eyes went from gentle to malicious in an instant. I hardly was paying attention to the information being discussed. I was perplexed that Dante would murder a member of his own mafia... for me.

Although, logically speaking, he probably didn't do it for me. He was most likely trying to regain control over his rowdy members. But regardless, I was grateful for what he did. 

A normal person would be scared out of their mind witnessing what I just did, but I couldn't help but look at Dante in a new light. Was I that fucked up in the head? Was I just a girl with so many daddy issues that his merciless act of aggression made me feel wanted?

"I need you to hack into this phone and gather as much information as possible. I also need you to work and improve our cyber security for our estate, phones, anything and everything. You'll be working with Damon, he'll help you with anything you need." Dante said, his words bringing me out of my introspective thoughts. His eyes were once again soft. He spoke gently, as if he was handling a porcelain doll that would shatter at any moment. I nodded slightly and gently grabbed the phone from my hands. His rough and callused hands making contact with mine made a shiver run through my entire body.

"You're dismissed." Dante said coldly as he faced the Mafia members, everyone quickly scurried out of the conference room, leaving only him and I behind in the empty office.

Being alone with Dante made me nervous, not nervous that he would kill me, more so anxious. These unfamiliar feelings that are surfacing must be a result of my traumatic childhood and wildly independent nature. Dante is by far one of the most attractive men I have ever laid eyes upon, however, his bipolar and brash personality had me somewhat loathing him. But somehow, his actions and words have me feeling some type of way.

"Rebel," Dante said softly as he hesitantly placed his hand on my shoulder, ripping me away from my thoughts. My heartbeat increased as I looked at his hand on my shoulder, then back to up his mesmerizing eyes.

"Are you... okay?" He asked, his voice sounding awkward and uncomfortable. It was obvious that comforting someone was not his forte.

"I'll be fine." I said calmly. Without another word, he removed his hand. Leaving a cold emptiness in the wake of his soft touch.

"Thank you." I finally spoke out, causing him to stop in his tracks. He was already at the door, and left coldly without another word.