Chapter 1 Attack of the Unseen

• Copyright © 2020 by MsZian
• All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.
• Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this story or plagiarism of any kind is prohibited by the law.
• Scenes, characters, dialogues, some places and events in this book are all invented or are used fictitiously.This story contains mature themes, profanity, violence, and sexual content not intended for young readers.
• A/N: This is Book I of the Secret Mafia Heirs Series ♕
• EXCERPT:
• _
• Pain.
• Pain.
• All she could feel was pain.
• But it would go away. It had to be temporary. The knife-like pain would stop. Eventually.
• Except...
• It stayed deep in her flesh. Deep under her skin. Stinging. It burned. It made her eyes tear up. The ache and his sheer weight made her chest constrict even more.
• Praying didn't work. She already tried shoving him off, but her limbs...too weak. Stiff. Barely able to move.
• Why? She had no clue. One thing she knew for sure: her left shoulder still bled like a faucet. Warm liquid oozed from the wound. The metallic smell alone told her enough. It was her own blood, dripping all over her shivering skin.
• Eyes squeezed shut, Mykaela prayed in her head some more, mustering up the will and strength to stop him.
• He continued to feed. Drinking.
• Sucking in blood with no inhibitions.
• Seconds ticked by but his cold mouth still wouldn't leave the wounds he'd inflicted. It just hurt too much.
• Why was she letting him do this?
• Every part of her felt helpless, sore, trapped by his weight and strength. Was it wrong? Was she indulging his craving?
• But he didn't simply crave blood—he needed blood.
• As far as she understood, it got rid of the stomach and liver pains he endured on a regular basis. Being a "pureblood" wasn't all fun and exciting games, like Ricchar and Cloe said.
• Still, no matter how much she told herself she was only doing this to help Miles, the profound ache in her made her cringe every second she waited.
• Pain. Pain. Tears.
• The endless, piercing pain...
• Miles...please make it stop.
• Chapter 1 — Attack of the Unseen
• ◇ KEL ◇
• Milan, Italy
• Today wouldn't be any different.
• This wouldn't be another one of those days. She had prepared for this,
• prepared her brain for instances like this.
• Her breaths turned shallow and quick. But she was in control; everything
• would be okay. She'd make it out of here easily—like everybody else—calm and in
• an orderly fashion.
• Kel repeated the hopeful words in mind while focusing on the wide mirror
• in front of her. "You're fine. Keep
• it together. You're in public. You've done your job...had a good run. Time to
• go home." She pushed stubborn
• strands of hair away from her cheeks, ignoring the anxiety welling up in her
• eyes.
• Her hand clasped the edge of the cold sink as she tried to stop the
• voices. They weren't exactly voices, though...more like, unwanted thoughts
• threatening her sanity. Her lips wrinkled
• into a frustrated frown as her paper-white reflection stared back at her.
• The wipes her fingers crumpled dampened her skin with a coolness her
• dazed senses could barely register. Kel rubbed the foundation off her face and
• the swift, repetitive strokes started to chafe some color on her cheeks.
• Two opening shows yesterday, one closing for this afternoon, and all
• went well. Typical work day—round-the-clock schedule, consecutive shows,
• nonstop changing and dressing up. Her feet and back were killing her but at
• least she didn't trip or fall off the catwalk.
• It had been her routine for three straight weeks now, including the work days she had to get up at 5AM to travel to the city for castings and fittings.
• Kel sighed. If she had other options, she'd quit in a heartbeat and find an easier job. But that wouldn't pay off her family's bank loans and credit card bills, would it?
• As she leaned against the cold sink, a massive headache weakening her muscles started bleeding her patience dry. If this wasn't an escalating anxiety attack, then why did she feel like passing out on the floor right now?
• Because you're weak...
• Always been, always will be...
• You're nothing but a stupid, gullible, pathetic wannabe...
• ◇
• "Greetings, Ms. Nielsen.
• We have received your application letter and regret to inform you that
• your application has been disqualified due to inconsistencies we have observed
• on your personal information sheet. We also failed to verify the birth records
• you have attached to your application files.
• UCMLE's scholarship committee reserves the right to reject an application if false information has been provided. Scholarship grants awarded by UCMLE's committee are limited and are on a first come, first serve basis.
• Providing false or incomplete information on the application forms will immediately result in the applicant's disqualification. Charges of larceny and forgery may also be filed against applicants who knowingly provided false details in the scholarship application forms.
• Should you have any concerns regarding this matter, our administrative
• department will be available Monday to Friday during office hours to provide
• any assistance, but we cannot guarantee that every request will be honored.
• We wish you good luck on your future endeavors.
• UCMLE SC Head Office"
• It might have taken three re-reads and half an hour before the shock
• lessened to a manageable degree, only to let the disappointment and reality
• sink in.
• Dropping the impeccably folded paper on her lap, Kel hunched over on the toilet seat cover, put off by the scrupulous people behind this disappointing act of rejection. She didn't open the letter until she was sure she'd no longer have to face her employers or agents today.
• The letter had to wait. She put it off all night and all morning. She focused first on the jobs she had to do today.
• All she had hoped for since those weeks of prepping the vexing amount of
• scholarship requirements, until today, was to be given a chance—a chance to
• join the list of scholarship awardees, and a chance to make her academic goals
• a reality this year.
• UCMLE, a prestigious international school known to support local and foreign undergrads, provided the much coveted medical scholarship programs to those who qualified and met their exigent criteria. She had been waiting patiently for months. Long, tiring, anxious months.
• A positive response was what she expected, of course. However, fate seemed to have a different plan for her future.
• Modeling was a temporary thing, just a means to support herself financially for the time being, really. Not getting any younger and a lifelong career in the modeling industry? Moving to the North Pole would be less impossible.
• A bachelor's degree in the field of study she'd chosen remained her ultimate goal. But it seemed the odds weren't in her favor.
• Not yet, perhaps. She would try again, but that would mean she was out-and-out desperate. Maybe she should just go home and try her luck in other colleges?
• That would mean she had to take weeks off work, though. It would cost
• her more time and money. Although her mom and dad would be glad to help out,
• she wouldn't dare ask them for help. They had enough bills to worry about.
• Money was becoming an issue these days, seeing as her dad was in and out of the hospital again, battling respiratory complications his illness had once again triggered. Kel sighed and composed a short prayer in her head.
• God willing, her dad's current condition would improve in the coming
• months. Rather unlikely, but they still prayed for his health to improve after
• this fourth hospitalization. The constant prayers might just work.
• Her eyes shut tight while her palms covered her face, and before she
• could finish the prayers in her head,
• shrill noises broke off her thoughts.
• Another text.
• New message
• From: Jill
• "You alive?"
• Today 3:19PM
• ◇
• "Mykaela? You there? Kel?"
• "Yeah," Kel sighed.
• The
• familiar female voice made her relax her fist and momentarily forget about her
• unsettling thoughts.
• The oddly painful sensation in her gut told her it wasn't
• going away anytime soon. She should be used to this type of rejection by now,
• given the nature of her current job, but the constricting feeling in her chest
• wouldn't go away.
• "Where you at?" asked Jill, her sister.
• "Still at the show? Sorry. Really wanted
• to be there but the hubs had to fly out."
• "It's fine." Kel zipped up her coat until it totally covered her shirt.
• "You sound weird. Eat breakfast and lunch yet?" Jill asked over the line.
• "Yeah. I'm fine." Kel used a more pleasant tone to cover up the lie. Her voice didn't falter, thankfully. She put the call on the
• background to check for unread messages.
• Wait—
• It was way past lunch. Miles could be around the area.
• She should text him now.
• "Sure?" her sister gainsaid. "What'd you eat? Don't say eggs again."
• "Yeah. Precisely." Kel took a deep breath, pretending her
• rapid heartbeat didn't bother her. "How's baby Meesha?"
• "Always sleeping when not hungry. Mom keeps saying you're still too skinny." Just like that, Jill moved on to more pressing family issues. "She keeps Googling recent photos of you and Miles; it's hilarious."
• "Ugh. Please don't tell me she saw his new posts," Kel droned on. She'd been praying that her puritanical parents hadn't stumbled upon her roomie's latest paintings.
• "Too late." Jill laughed a little. "Her mouth just hung
• open for an entire minute. Can't blame her, though. Your boyfriend's got mad
• painting skills. I mean, whoa..." Jill giggled again. "Those paintings looked so...anatomically
• correct."
• Kel sighed. She was referring to the nude paintings Miles just finished. "For the hundredth time, not my boyfriend." She paused to think.
• "He likes guys. Jeez...this is gettin' exhausting." Not her problem our parents didn't believe her roommate only let her live with him because she liked to clean and cook.
• "Maybe he's bi. Did you even ask?" Jill teased. "Anyway, no after-parties tonight?"
• "Not interested." Kel abstractedly stared at her recently retouched and free manicure. Perks of being a full-time model. Lately she just
• didn't have the time to pamper herself, or deal with the usual anxiety disorders working models had to hide on a regular basis. She'd easily choose to lounge in bed reading her new cardiology and pathology ebooks rather than spend all night partying with younger models whose last names she didn't even know.
• "Why? You're goin' out with Miles?"
• "Got somethin' else planned." She checked
• her message inbox.
• Why hadn't Miles replied? Was he busy hanging out with friends?
• Impatience just intensified her headache.
• She should text him again. "Driving to
• the venue now? Pls wait in the parking lot," she sent twice.
• He wasn't supposed to pick her up this early, but she couldn't risk being seen without him today. Not with her ex lurking and circling the building at the minute. Well, it was just an idea. Just a suspicion. But it still shocked her to a startling degree.
• Mykaela glanced at the empty bathroom where she'd stayed while doing some arms-above-the-head, standing yoga poses in the corner stall. She could barely breathe then.
• Her last panic episode months ago being the worst, she did some
• research. Turns out she had an anxiety disorder. She'd tried some
• self-treatment she read online, because, if she hadn't, Miles would've dragged
• her to a psychiatrist in a heartbeat. Which was the last thing she would go for.
• Her bank account said enough. Seeing a shrink? Just out of the question. For
• now, at least.
• "How true is it that his family's filthy rich?" Jill's voice drifted off to a whisper, her tone curious and a bit playful.
• "They run two businesses, I think."
• "Sounds accurate. The rumors are true, then," Jill muttered. "By the way, Mom told me to remind you to submit another application to NYU School of Med."
• Ugh. Not again...
• Kel
• rolled her eyes. She'd applied into that same school two years ago. So far, not
• even a short rejection letter to show her folks. Hence her decision to move to
• another country to try working as a model here, because, apparently: no hard cash, no medical degree.
• "K, she really wants you home," her sister went on. "She found pics and videos of Miles drinking and partying. So, now Mom and Dad's
• more convinced your roomie's bad influence."
• "Fine. Tell 'em I'll make time this weekend." Kel remained standing by the sink, unsure of what else to say.
• Although she didn't appreciate the idea of another drastic change in her everyday life, she'll submit another slew of scholarship applications to the medical schools in New York, just to appease her mother's worries. Mykaela frowned.
• Her entire savings wouldn't even be able to pay for half of her tuition should she choose to resume her studies in New York. And now her parents wanted her to quit her job and go back to university?
• After saying goodbye to her sister over the phone, Mykaela let her shoulders droop.
• It wasn't until she heard a clicking sound that her senses went on full alert again, acknowledging the complete silence around her. The bathroom was clean and the lights were bright enough, but the space was still rather small.
• The tension was again building up in her chest. Darn those texts from him. She should have just deleted them right away.
• Shouldn't have read them over and over. How did Andrew get her new number?
• She had an inkling, but she wanted to be sure. As she stood alone in the
• cold room, slouching and discouraged by her thoughts, Kel tried another
• breathing exercise, which, after a while, gave her a pinch of control over her
• nerves.
• It's just the hinge. Deep breaths.
• There's no lock. Deep breaths... Relax...
• Her stare idled on her shoes as she anchored herself against the sink. Her noisy exhalations sounded like drawn-out sighs, and again, the unregistered
• number she'd read on her phone screen kept disrupting her thoughts. Darn it.
• Why did she have to check her phone before the show ended?
• Much to her relief, though, she was able to finish her runway walk without tripping or falling off of the elevated platform. Which would've been the most dreadful mishap—lots of famous industry people and celebrities had come to see the show.
• Stupid. How stupid of her to think Drew wouldn't track her down. He must've talked her sister into tattling where she'd been holing up all these months.
• "Holing up" would be a little inaccurate, though, since she wasn't exactly hibernating under a rock all this time...
• Lying low
• would be a more
• appropriate term, because, ever since she made it big and began working for the
• most prestigious brands in the industry, the number of photos of her online
• started to double and double. It got to the point where she would feel the need
• to ask her agent if he could have some photos taken down.
• It was bad enough that people knew she got involved with a married man. Just days since the news broke out, people already began dubbing her as "Homewrecker of the Year".
• Well, a few people...since Drew wasn't really a household name yet that time. Those weeks had been pure torture for her.
• So she hightailed it. Packed up and left New
• York. Left her family and friends just like that.
• Luck was on her side when she met Miles again, or else she wouldn't have mustered up the will to just move and make a living in foreign country. And owing to his laudable niceness and very generous parents, she was able to follow through. If someone asked her, she'd honestly say that she now loved life here in Italy.
• At least she could go out for coffee and hang out anywhere in the city and not have camera flashes blinding her on the way back to her place. She wasn't completely anonymous here, but, she could still go out and not sweat about finding dozens of unwanted pictures online the next morning.
• Her message alert tone paused her train of thought. It should be Miles.
• Kel lifted her phone. Yep. He sent a reply.
• 1 new message
• From: Miles
• "Just parked in the far left. Where u at?"
• Today 3:22PM
• She was about to compose her reply when her phone went off, making her
• favorite song echo throughout the small, dark-tiled bathroom. Her breathing
• hitched. The screen flashed an unregistered number she knew wasn't local.
• Mindful of her quickening breaths and cold hands, Kel let her phone ring and tossed it back inside her satchel.
• It's just a short walk. Five minutes tops. Deep breaths...
• No negative thoughts.
• "You're okay. Miles is waiting out there," she reminded
• herself.
• It wasn't a minute later when she started jostling her way out of the crammed main lobby, politely mumbling "Excuse me" and "Sorry" every now and then. Her vision began to blur when a ringing in her ear intensified, drowning out the party music playing over the blaring speakers, the sounds of champagne glasses clinking
• , high heels click-clacking, and the loudening buzz of the conversations taking place around her.
• Jeez. She needed to get out of here. Now.
• Her stomach rumbled while her nerves worsened. Kel took a deep breath
• and continued a steady pace, up until she could make out the sidewalk behind
• the building's wide windows. There weren't as many people loitering by the
• entrance—20 or so, it appeared.
• She nodded at the entrance guards. "Hi." She put on a smile. It disappeared once she made it out the glass doors.
• An array of vehicles lined either side of the sunlit street. Kel started her hasty strides towards the parking lot, thankful that her intakes of breath weren't as forced and noisy. Street noises echoed around while her eyes skimmed the multi-colored lines of parked cars.
• Her anxious search didn't last a minute because she soon caught a glimpse of a tall, dark-haired guy in a familiar pair of sneakers. He stood by a black sedan with his back to her, his attention held by the cellphone in his hand.
• Ah...her happy pill.
• She wanted to call out to him, but her throat felt funny, almost compressed.
• "Hey." Miles spotted her and put his phone away, his brisk steps accompanied by dark, scrunched brows. Old paint smudged the hem of his wrinkled shirt. During season breaks, if he wasn't doing print jobs, Miles would be spending days and nights in his studio just painting and painting, until he would eventually lose either inspiration or concentration.
• The afternoon sun hurt her skin as Kel stood still.
• "What's up?" Miles asked upon reaching her side. His dark
• brows crumpled more when he noticed she'd gone stiff as a board in the middle
• of the sidewalk.
• "Let's go home," she managed to say without stuttering.
• Her timid state made Miles hug her closer to his side. He even bent down to peer at her face. "What?"
• "Tell you in the car," she mumbled before handing him her bag.
• Miles placed his arm around her back, prompting her to speed up her steps. His ride sat a few cars away.
• Her fingers curled inside her pockets while she restrained herself from scanning the street to look for a tall, pale but muscular guy with a scruffy jaw.
• "You look like you're gonna be sick," Miles commented.
• "Just hungry." She glanced behind and swallowed, holding back
• the other reason why she felt like she was going to hurl any second now. Her
• back stiffened when she heard a familiar voice.
• It was a man's voice, and what he yelled sounded a lot like her nickname.
• Her pounding heart now in her throat, she tried her best not to look behind as they rushed along the busy sidewalk.
• "Sure?" Miles didn't seem to hear it, probably because of his earphones. They reached his parked car in no time. "You okay or d'you need
• to throw up?" Miles opened the passenger door for her and leaned against his car.
• "I'm good," she murmured. "Just having a nervous breakdown." She grabbed his arm to pull him closer and pressed a hard kiss on his lips.
• ◇