Last Breath: Last Breath Series

By Mindy Sue

Positive her life ended the day her father murdered her mother and grandparents. Coleania shut out everyone, except the boy that knew her secret. His dark eyes pleaded with her to let him in. Needing him to take her pain away, but she hadn't understood how much she needed him to save her.

But when he suddenly reentered her life, Coleania still wasn't prepared for the impact he would make on her life, and her heart.

As she learned her father's deep darkest secret, and the reason why he murdered his wife and parents, Coleania had no choice but to allow let Luke protect her. His price would cost her heart, body, soul, and life.

Luke had known the moment he saw Coleania, he would save her. The deal their fathers had agreed upon wasn't Nia's responsibility to pay. How could he protect her from them, when he wanted more from her than the blood in her veins?

How could he prepare her, when he knew she would run from him? His cold heart had finally begun to beat the day he had saw her so broken. She was so strong, but could she remain strong when he asked her for her life?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mindy Sue
• Release date: Jul 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386783152

Book preview

Unconditional Love, the heart, mind, body, and soul are freely given away without wanting anything in return. You can only have this if someone wants to give it to you. It is never wrong to ask for it, and it tastes all the better when it is given without asking.

A shout out to Amy, and to my cousin’s friend: thanks for the names!

Chapter One

I LIVE A MUNDANE, BORING and tamed life. Un-traumatized by the dramatic teenage social scene the popular ruled. Their motto is to terrorize the unpopular with dreadful torture of physical, emotional and mental to increase their pitiful lives. Never once had I suffered anything from those girls, often called plastic because of the ‘secret’ surgeries to enhance their own normal self-reflections, nor the football or any other captain that uses their over the top prince charming smile to woo some hair brain girl to her downfall. No, I cannot say I had witnessed any of these acts, I only knew they happened from the tears I would hear from the next stall.

No, not me, not once had I experienced one ill fortunate moment that challenged my morals; I should have realized what was in store for me.

The lack of teenage drama is, in fact, due to papa’s malicious acts. I have seen first-hand how far he will go to keep control. If I had learned about boys, my judgment of their character could have saved me from the heartache I must face to survive my sacrifice. I cannot help to wonder if early on heartache could have saved me from my predestined horror.

When a father terrorizes for pleasure; the offspring is limited to life experiences. My papa is scarier than Al Capone on a gunning spree on the streets of Chicago. Yet, I am sure even Al was not scary enough to compare to Papa. Papa could slice someone’s neck, then turn back to take a sip of his lemonade and not miss a play on television. He had no problem in getting what he wanted, and never minded how he got it.

I lived somewhere between a fairy tale and a nightmare. I cannot say that I am shocked I will die because of my papa. I should have known my death would not be a peaceful moment since I realized all humans die.

My only happiness in living a miserable, desolate, pitiful life is when I am left alone, but papa, does not see it that way. His happy thoughts for me were dances, because as I child I had loved to dance around the rooms with my mother. So many nights, mother, papa and I would dance to songs from old record players. After my mother’s and grandparent’s death, I wanted nothing to do with happiness; therefore, I shut everything out of my life. Papa would upturn the world to bring a moment of happiness he believed I needed. To make it worse, only then did anyone act as if we were friends. I learned young- friendship was a lost longing in my life. Everyone was afraid of him.

The last day of my happy life ended almost three years ago. My school’s early released had been the catalyst for my early death. In high spirits of my first mother and daughter day, I decided to get a ride from a friend’s mom instead of waiting for my driver to arrive. This was my first experience with a salon, and I was ready to grow up. As I walked up the drive, I noticed papa’s car in the drive. His big black sedan sat out in the driveway shining like a star in the middle of the day. Frowning, I thought maybe he was once again trying to persuade my mother to rethink about taking me to the gossip place. I went around the back door to take the back stairs to my room in case they were fighting.

I was half way up the back stairs when a gun sounded. I froze as fear seized me. I held my breath. Gun shots were not common in the house, but they happened more than they should in a family home. Something about this shot sent nasty cold chills down my spine. The faint screaming made me decide to investigate.

The house was built with hidden passageways due to papa’s suspicious mind. Moving as slowly as I could, I made my way to papa’s office wall and found the hole that I had made a few years ago. I heard two women crying first. As I adjusted I saw my mother and grandmother were on their knees holding my grandpa up. Blood covered his chest and was spreading down his torso. His face flushed as he gasped for breath.

Before I could react, a hand covered my mouth silencing my scream. Terror welled up inside of me as I thought I had been caught and now I too will be taken to my father’s office to be killed. As I began to struggle for freedom, the hand turned into a body that pressed me against the opposite wall. The hand that controlled my head turned so I could see it was Mitchell that held me against the studded wall. He had his other hand to his mouth with one finger over his lips then pointed for me to go back the way I came. I wanted to run, but we both knew I would run directly to papa’s office and demand reason for his actions. Mitchell held me in place as he forced me to listen.

My mother was pleading to papa. Her voice tore at my heart. My chest heaved with a sob. I pleaded with Mitchell to let me go, but he held me tight. Listening to her cry and plead for her their lives made me cry. My heart pounded in my chest as I silently begged Mitchell to let me go. He only shook his head at me. He looked sad, as if he wanted to cry too.

Mitchell moved us as papa began speaking, so I could look through my peephole to watch papa look down at my mother and grandparents. The smug look turned my stomach and my chest burned from the emotions I was feeling. The betrayal shook me. I could only shed soundless tears as I watched papa dominate my family.

You thought your little plan was going to work? his voice cold.

"You thought you could take MY daughter and run. I give you praise for attempting to steal her, to take MY daughter from me with the pretense of going to a salon? Do you not think about who owns this town? I know about the tickets you paid someone to buy for you. I cannot allow you to leave now, MY daughter means too much to me for you to plot against me, again. You never wanted her, so why do you want her now, my dear wife?" Papa grabbed my mother by her chin, squeezing it hard. I could see tears of pain roll down her cheeks as she suffered in silence.

You only want her because you can control her, an heir to your evil ways. Grandma Isère said. Her voice was soft from her pain, but she spoke to him as her child.

My papa raised the black gun towards my grandmother. My eyes widened, I knew what was going to happen. Papa was going to kill her! I struggled against Mitchell. I jerked in every direction to find freedom, even biting his fingers. Mitchell tightened his grip on me. He pulled me backwards and off my feet and took me to the ground. He laid on me to hold me still. I was not feeling the weight of his body as I listened to my grandmother and mother scream as the situation built inside the room. The shots were rapid; the firing gun silenced the screams. My body jolted with each shot. The natural physical reaction causing algophobia to topple over my emotions as sobs broke in my throat.

Hush, his voice whispered in my ear. I shook the deadness inside of me as I started to fight against Mitchell. I had to see if my papa killed my family.

Go back to the front; I don’t care if you have to grab a bunch of flowers because you want your room to smell pretty. Come through the front door as you always do. Do not let anyone, especially your father know you saw anything. Do you understand me? Your life is no longer in your hands. If you want revenge, you will have to wait. Mitchell stared down at me with a cold hard stare. Slowly he lifted his fingers from my mouth to test my silence.

My... I tried to argue with him. My emotions were overflowing as I tried to protect my family.

No, go before both of us are in trouble. His voice was tense, but quaked with unspent emotion.

Mitchell, Look for Nia! Papa yelled on cue. His voice sounded unstable and high. Mitchell lifted his weight off me. As soon as I was free, I scrambled backwards, suddenly scared. He had known what was happening.

Walk normal. No suspicion means no problems. Mitchell said with a coldness etching in his voice. I could not help but to show how scared I was of him. Even in the dim light I watched him harden from my response. Mitchell was part of the mob and he too could be as deadly. He picked up, then handed me my backpack and walked away.

I slipped out the back door trying not to look suspicious. I could not see anyone, but it felt as if I was being watched so I kept stopping to look around and that scared me. I forced myself to walk normally. I had an awkward feeling as I pulled my backpack higher up on my shoulder to reach down and grab a bunch of bloomed wild flowers that my mother had painstakingly grown. I paused to look at the flowers when I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I knew someone had seen me. Clutching my bag close to me and holding the flowers in the other hand I slowly turned around. A boy was watching me. He looked slightly older than me. He was much taller than me. He did not move to talk to me, which gave me relief. I did not want to talk to anyone. Running up the stairs on the side of the porch to keep distance between the boy and me, I moved as quickly as I could to get to my room.

Home I yelled out as I slammed the door. Winching when the sound echoed through the house, I paused to see Mitchell standing a few feet away in front of the archway to the sitting room. He was just standing there watching me. His eyes motioned for me to go upstairs, so I went. I could feel Mitchell’s eyes on me as I walked up the four feet wide stairs. When the door opened and closed without any greetings, I paused to look over the massive mantel to see who had followed me. The boy was standing on the third step. He was coming after me; he knew I had been in the house. My heart slammed against my chest wall. Panic swelled through me as I watched the boy stare at me. He was going to take me to my papa. Would papa shoot me too? Panic rolled my stomach and turned my legs to mush. I used all my strength to hold on so I would not fall.

You are not allowed upstairs, Mitchell snapped as he walks across the floor. The tone in Mitchell’s voice was threatening. Mitchell’s job was to protect me, and right now, I wanted to be protected. I was going to have a meltdown any second. The boy was looking up at me with concern on his face. His face instantly frowned and he glanced at Mitchell.

Upstairs is private, it is for family only, and you are not family, Mitchell said in a slow, deep tone that sent shivers down my spine. I watched as the boy arched his brow as he turned his head slowly towards Mitchell. The concern melted from his features as anger shaped his face. His eyes looked black. I bit my lip, suddenly afraid for Mitchell. He did not like the way Mitchell was talking to him.

I want to talk to her. The boy finally said in a tone that oozed power. The scene was overpowering me. My legs began to buckle under the pressure; my heart raced causing me to be lightheaded. I gasped as I held onto the banister for support.

Nia, you should prepare for dinner. Mitchell never told me to do anything, and I knew he was telling me this was not a good situation. I wanted to hear why the boy wanted to talk to me. Both looked up at me, waiting for me to decide which one I would listen to, Mitchell, a person I have known all my life or a guy that caught my attention. My heart pounded when I looked at the boy. I caught the hint of a smile, as if he knew he was making me feel something towards him.

Thanks for letting me know. I forced myself to stare at Mitchell until I backed away enough that I could no longer see either one of them. Then I turned and ran down the hall to my room where I shut and locked the door. Leaning against the door feeling that I was no longer safe made my heart shatter. My backpack and flowers fell to the floor in a soft thump.

My heart pounded as I waited for any sound of Mitchell forcing the boy back downstairs, but there were no sounds of confrontation. My head hit the door as I slid down it. Falling forward I put my hands against the overly plush carpet. I ran into my bathroom where I emptied my stomach and cried.

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IT HAS BEEN THREE YEARS since that tragic day. I truly believe that papa loves me, but he loves his power more. My mother and his parents had threatened his power by trying to take me away. Why had they wanted to run from him? What did they know?

The soft warm breeze flowed over me, bringing my life back into focus. I laid my head on the window pane and let a tear fall.

I miss you mama. I whispered. Another soft breeze floated around me, making me close my eyes hoping she telling me she missed me too. Three years have passed, leaving me older, and not much wiser. I force myself to act normal each day to hide the truth and the lie was almost believable. Mitchell watched me as close as he did that first day waiting for me to slip. He knew everything was brewing.

Coleania, Coleania where are you? Papa called my name from downstairs. His voice boomed up the stairway, rattling me out of my thoughts. Looking at the time, I knew I had thought about my memories far too long.

Oh crap! I ran to my door, flinging it open, almost screaming at the sight of standing at my door. He looked amused by my scattered look.

Should I tell him you are running late? Mitchell looked over my thinly dressed outfit, tank top and short- shorts. He smirked as he looked at me a little too long.

Crap! I was busy and time got away from me. Can you tell him that I will be ready in thirty minutes? I said, hoping to stay in good graces.

Oh Nia, I told you he was not in a good mood today. I can try to stall for twenty. Your time starts. Mitchell smiled at my horror as he glanced over me again.

Oh crap! You are a jerk. I turned sprinting into my bathroom. He laughed loud enough so I could hear him. Turning the shower on, and then off, twenty minutes would not be long enough. I ran to the closet, grabbing a nice shirt, black skirt and a pair of flats. A little soft vanilla with brown sugar spray would have to work. Twisting my hair up into a bun I turned to see Papa standing in my room watching me hustle about. Instantly I blushed from embarrassment. He was not happy to see I was not ready. His mouth thin and straight as his eyes took in my hasty appearance. He was not pleased with my image.

What has taken your mind away to not pay attention to the clock? He looked around the room, as if he was not going to believe something had taken my mind from me. My computer was off, my laptop lay closed on my bed, but a book lay open to the page that I was reading when I had started to think about mother.

Sorry papa, I was caught up in homework. I looked at the book with relief. I pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear and watched papa look over the thick school book.

School is very important. I am glad that you seek out every piece of information, but it also saddens me that you sit here all the time. You have no social life. He held up the book and looked at me.

Is there something wrong that I want good grades so I can attend the best college? The social scene is drama, boy chases girl, girl teased by the boy, boy leaves girl crying at home and girl sets out to make a boy jealous. Not my thing. The dry tone broke through as I thought about what I see at school.

I thought that was what you wanted from me. If I need to change... he held up his hand to stop me. He never wanted to hear what I wanted or needed.

No, no, do not change for me, but I must ask you to rethink the amount of time you stay in here. Are you ready? He tossed down the book to look at me. I knew any answer other than yes would have been wrong.

Yes, I am ready. He looked me over still not impressed with my choice, but he wanted to leave.

We do not have time for you to change; good thing the lighting is low. Come, we must go. I frowned at him when he turned to walk out the door. Looking at Mitchell, he just stared at me with a look of disappointment. I had noticed that he did that often. I walked up to Mitchell and stop. He held my mother’s black silk shawl in his hands. The way he moved my hair and touched my skin made my skin crawl. When I turned to check him, he was looking at me in a queer way. There was something there, it was raw and it made me feel ill.

You have to go. His voice was thick with emotion.

Come, no playing. We will be late and I am starving. Papa yelled as he walked down the stairs. With a shrug of my shoulder, I walked away from Mitchell.

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WHY DID YOU TAKE SO long? Papa questioned as the door to our car shut. I blushed and thought for a second of the encounter.

I need someone to talk to. I looked at the edge of the shawl trying to change the subject off Mitchell. Mitchell was making it impossible for me to not notice his actions. I did not like being pressed.

Talk with me. I am your papa. I smiled and looked up at him because he sounded genuine. He was eyeing me as he gave into the conversation.

Yes, you are my papa, and most anything I can talk with you, but there are things I want to talk to a female with. I have those questions. I turned bright red because he blushed. I had to make sure he did not remember his question had gone unanswered.

Yes, I see. His reply ended with him looking out the window, I could not tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. The rest of the ride was quiet. I felt secure in solitude. My fingers traced the silk shawl, and I thought of my mother. My mother and I were supposed to visit Poland a few days ago to meet her family.

Why are you so quiet? I looked up to see papa looking at me.

Mom and I were supposed to be in Poland right now. Remember, we saved pennies for spending money. I would be sleeping right now in her old room dreaming of the stories her family told me. I would have sent you at least two postcards and dozens of pictures of us as she showed me her youth. I still miss her papa. I prepared myself for the impact because he never spoke of my mother since that day. He looked away and back at me with a rare sadness in his eyes. This time, I looked away.

I miss her too. My eyes began to water, but he shook his heavy hand in the air. The door opened, papa waited no time to get out of the space. Maybe he was suffering for his actions. Someone extended their hand so I would have support to exit the car. Shock held me motionless. I felt different knowing he missed her, but he still could not tell me he killed her.

Nia, are you alright? Mitchell asked as he slid into the opened door. I looked at him. Tears were still threatening to fall. He frowned. He could not say anything; we both knew papa was standing next to the car. Mitchell pulled out a small white hankie and handed it to me. I nodded a thank you and dabbed my eyes.

Sorry sir, her skirt twisted and caught by the seatbelt. Mitchell said through the opening of the door. I tried to hand the hankie back and he shook his head. I held out my hand so he could help me slide across the