{EDMONDO'S POV}**The estate feels like a mausoleum. I stand in the grand hall, my boots echoing against the hard marble floors. The scent of cigar smoke lingers differently and sharp. The air was as well mixed with the faint tang of aged whiskey. My father.I don’t need to see his face to know he’s sitting in his usual spot; the heavy leather chair that creaks under his weight. The sound is as familiar as his low growl when he speaks."Edmondo," his voice cuts through the room like a blade, cold and precise.I turn toward the sound. His cologne; a dark, woody scent with a hint of tobacco, fills my nostrils. Beside him, someone shifts. Hmmm, that's a faint rustle of foreign fabric catching my attention. The smell is different. Not entirely unfamiliar, but I can’t place it.Foreign. Yet familiar.I step closer, scanning the strangers movements… silently. The stranger doesn’t speak, but I hear the subtle scrape of a shoe against the floor. That's a habit of someone impatient or anx
{CARA'S POV}**I’m dragged through the corridor. My bare feet scrape against the rough cement floor and my arms are bound behind me. Shit, the rope is biting into my skin, and the damp air reeks of stinky sweat and damp metal.I can barely think.The men are silent and my head pounds as I try to focus on the details around me. Anything could be a clue or a way out. But all I can see are their tattoos, faint but unmistakable.The one at the base of the man’s neck catches my eye first; a small, intricate design of an eye, inked so subtly it could be missed if not for how closely I’m watching him. My stomach churns, and a chill runs down my spine.These definitely aren't Edmondo’s men. But wasn't Edmondo the only person after my life?It makes no sense. Edmondo’s world has its horrors, but this? This feels darker, older, like stepping into the shadows of something ancient and untouchable.
{CARA'S POV}**The Van's engine roars to life, jolting me forward. My wrists ache against the bindings, and the gag muffles my frantic attempt to scream. Outside, the gunfire grows louder, punctuated by shouting and the sharp squeal of tires. Whoever these people are with black tattooed eyes on them, they are in trouble. Edmondo's men are closing in fast. The blue-eyed man sits opposite me with a calm expression despite the chaos. He leans back, one hand casually resting on his knee while the other is gripping a pistol. He doesn't look at me. His focus is fixed on the chaos outside.I twist against my restraints, hoping for some slack. Nothing. "Don't bother," he says suddenly, "you're not getting out of those."I glare at him, screaming against the gag. But he just smirks. "You've got spirit. I'll give you that," he muses, leaning forward. "But you're in over your head, Cara."The van swerves
{EDMONDO'S POV}**“That car.”I stare at the headlights up ahead. I can’t see through the tinted glass, but I know it’s them. Even if I could see their faces, they’d just be a blur.I know Cara is in that car.I don’t think twice.My foot slams harder on the gas pedal. The engine roars as I close the distance, the lights and metal of their car blurring together as I steer into their lane.I can’t see their faces, and it doesn’t make sense to crash into them. But since I lost half my sight, I trust my instincts more than anything.They don’t know what’s coming.Tires scream, and then there’s a bone-jarring crash as I cut into their lane.The impact is loud and violent. The metal of their car crumples like paper. Time slows, and I see it all; the car shuddering, spinning out, then coming to a sudden, jagged stop. My body aches from the jolt, but I don’t pause. I throw open my door and step out.I don’t see Cara yet.The wrecked car in front of me smolders, smoke curling from its twis
{CARA'S POV}**I wake slowly. The ache in my head is dull but persistent, as if even my dreams had been laced with pain. My right hand feels heavier than usual, and when I shift, the clink of metal startles me fully awake. I blink, trying to focus on the dimly lit room, and that’s when I notice it.My wrist is chained to the bedboard.I swallow hard, pulling gently against the restraint, but it doesn’t budge. A quiet panic rises in my chest, only for my eyes to wander and catch the figure across the room. Edmondo.His back is to me, bare and taut. Every muscle is defined as if carved from gemstone. He stands by the desk, holding a pen in one hand. Papers are spread out in front of him. He’s completely focused, shoulders tense. His movements are precise. Even from this angle, he exudes power.I shift again, and my gaze flicks back to the chain. It feels heavier now, like more than just steel; it feels like a reminder. A punishment.The memories of the crash flood back; the car, th
{EDMONDO'S POV}**I climb on top of her, and the moment my weight presses her down, I feel her sharp intake of breath. She’s beneath me now, where she belongs. My face lowers to the crook of her neck, and I take in her scent. A single, deliberate sniff.Her body trembles. It’s subtle, but I notice it. She’s shaking, and I haven’t even done anything yet. The corners of my lips twitch, amusement flickering in the back of my mind. Is she wet? The thought comes unbidden, but it stays. Torn, perhaps? The idea intrigues me. And for a moment, I want to see for myself.But no. I push the thought aside.She’s not going to distract me. Not with her body. Not with those eyes. Not with the way she’s trying to make me forget the reality of what’s between us. She thinks she can sway me, but I’m not a fool. She’s desperate, but mercy? No. She’ll get none of that from me.I grip her jaw, tilting her face up to meet mine. Her eyes are wide, swimming with fear and something else… something I don’
{CARA'S POV}**I can barely breathe. Every gasp feels stolen, smothered by something that shouldn’t feel good, shouldn’t feel right; but does. It suffocates me, but not in the way that makes me want to fight for air. It’s a suffocation that leaves me spinning, untethered, unsure.Pleasure? No. I won’t call it that. Ecstasy? No, that doesn’t fit either. Excitement? Not quite.It’s something else entirely.My body feels alive, electric. It's buzzing as if a current is coursing through me. Butterflies in the stomach? No, this is nothing so delicate or charming. It’s bigger, messier… Like bubbles. Bubbles are racing through my veins, refusing to burst, refusing to stop no matter how much I will them to.I try to focus on his words, on the sharp, biting things he’s saying about Papà. But they feel distant. Like they’re being spoken from another room while my body remains trapped here, responding to him despite everything in me screaming to resist.“Your father is a spineless fool,” E
{EDMONDO'S POV}**The knock on the door is like salvation… for her, from me, and maybe even from myself. From my fingers. From the storm brewing inside me. Or was it?Perhaps, just perhaps, it was an escape for both of us. I wasn’t ready to tell her everything she needed to know. Not yet. The act of unraveling her in more ways than one had become my excuse. If there was no distraction, if she were just sitting there, raw and exposed, with only the weight of my words… she’d break.And, truthfully, I might too.The knock saved me from seeing her crumble.. and saved me from my own damn urges. I was getting hard from the way she responded, the way her body betrayed her anger, her questions, her doubts.I let go of her like she burned me. The shirt I’d discarded earlier was back in my hand, pulled over my torso with a speed born from years of training. My back turned to her, I faced the door as it swung open
{EDMONDO'S POV}**I slam the door behind me as I walk into my study. I feel the tension in my body, the way the air seems thick with the pressure that has been building up in my skull for hours. My head is pounding like a motherfucker. It's a constant, mind-numbing rhythm that doesn’t stop. It’s like there’s a hammer inside, banging away, relentless and unforgiving.“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I curse to myself, my voice low and ragged. My eyes burn, sore and raw from whatever the hell is happening to me. I feel like I’m losing my grip on everything… everything.I drop into the chair behind my desk, burying my face in my hands. I'm trying to steady my breathing. But it’s no use. The dizziness, the blur of faces; it’s getting worse.The men who followed me in those two SUVs; those faces, their fucking faces... they’re gone. No, not gone. Blank. Like someone erased them from existence.
{EDMONDO'S POV}**My father’s eyes narrow as he leans back in his seat, the leather groaning under his weight. He adjusts his tie with slow precision, as if trying to keep the words boiling inside him from spilling out. But eventually, he let loose.“Edmondo, can you just… fuck’s sake, he’s your brother. Okay? No matter what, he’s your goddamn brother,” he snap, his voice edging with frustration.I laugh bitterly, shaking my head. “My brother? My fucking brother?” I lean forward to growl. “You fucking know what he did. Or are you going senile, old man? Giordano wouldn’t have been able to flee without me knowing… unless someone good helped him. And, hell, I can as well track him down. Let’s get that shit straight.”Father rubs his temples. He's visibly irritated. “I know you, Edmundo,” he says, his voice going softer but still carrying that weight of authority. “I gave birth to you. You’re my son. It’s my fuc
{EDMONDO’S POV}**The door shuts behind me with a soft click, and I finally exhale, dragging a hand through my hair. The tension of that moment still clings to me, but at least it’s over. For now. I told her the truth, or at least most of it. Fuck, I hope she doesn’t dig deeper. She’s smart, too fucking smart for her own good, and if she finds out everything before I’m ready to tell her…I shake the thought from my head as Donatello falls into step beside me. He looks at me like he’s been waiting for something. His silence grates on my nerves.“Christ, Donnie, you couldn’t have waited five goddamn minutes?” I growl, keeping my voice low but sharp.“You seemed busy,” he says without apology, his tone deadpan. “But it couldn’t wait. Your father’s back. He wants to see you.”That stops me cold. My father. That bastard. “He’s back already? What the fuck? You just brought word that he was
{CARA'S POV}**No wonder the bitch, Agata, always traveled, saying she was going to do Papà's bidding. She came instead to the North to fuck with Edmondo.No wonder she had me make that swimsuit for her. Even Papà was against us wearing such things that'd make us qualified as ladies. The bitch wanted Edmondo to fuck her in that attire. Or did they go on a swimming vacation?No wonder she came to me most times with shoes, make-ups, revealing clothes. It was all Edmondo gave her. She couldn't hide it because she stays with Papà in the estate so, she brought it to me, who stayed far away from them.Bitch!!!!Dead bitch!!!!Why was I angry at her though? It's not a crime to be discreet or… to fall in… wait, did she fall in love with Edmondo? Edmundo’s soften voice that sounds like twisted kind of tenderness breaks my thoughts. “He blamed me for it. But the truth, Cara... the truth is, your father ma
{CARA'S POV}**Everything is starting to fall into place. The chaos in my mind is organizing itself into something coherent. It’s not even a puzzle anymore; it’s laid out before me, clear and undeniable. A platter of gold, served cold and ruthless.I think back to that day; my father’s words, his tone. He hadn’t talked about sending me abroad or finding a way for me to escape. He’d said something else, something that now feels like a confession I missed entirely.“You need to go, Cara,” he’d said.At the time, I thought he was trying to protect me. Push me away from the violence of his world. But now…now I see it differently. You need to go. It wasn’t protection. It was a deal.He wasn’t saving me. He was selling me.The realization slams into me with brutal clarity. In the mafia world, business always comes before blood. Loyalty to the cause is worth more than family. My father didn’t see
{EDMONDO'S POV}**I don’t answer right away. Instead, I hold her tighter, letting the intensity of the moment pull us deeper into something neither of us can avoid. Her face is a canvas of emotions; shock, disbelief, and something else I can’t quite place. Fear, perhaps. She doesn’t say a word. But her silence screams louder than any accusation ever could. I don’t stop. She needs to hear this, no matter how much it hurts. “I couldn’t save her,” I begin, my voice calm. “Agata wasn’t just a woman. She was everything; the embodiment of ferocity in a world that feeds on corruption. Just perfect for it. And when I heard about her committing suicide, it felt like I lost the only thing that made sense in reality.” Her lips part as if to speak, but she stays silent. Her chest rises and falls with each shallow breath. I move my hand from her naked curve to her
{EDMONDO'S POV}**I look at her, Cara; her eyes are wide, intense. As if she’s waiting for the truth to break her. But the truth has always been the one thing I can’t lie about. And especially not to her.“That’s not all, Cara,” I say, my voice low and purposeful. “The same way your sister wasn’t innocent, the rest of your family wasn’t. Especially your father.”Her eyes flash with a fury that burns brighter than I expect. “You dare not talk about Papà, Edmondo. You dare not say a word about him,” she spits. Her voice trembles with anger.I move closer to her there on the bed. My own pulse is steady but I feel her anger ripple through the room like a storm. “I only dare not lie to you because I promised you the truth,” I say, keeping my tone firm. “And do not point that finger at me, Amora (love). I’ll chop it off before you ever get the chance to use it.”Her breath catches in her throat, and for a mome
{CARA'S POV}**I can barely breathe. The air in the room feels thick and suffocating. As if every word Edmondo says is wrapping itself around my throat, choking me. I sit there on the bed, naked and exposed, though it feels like the least vulnerable part of me. His presence towers over me, dominant. My skin prickles as he steps closer, his scent; dark, masculine, blueberries and far too familiar, fills my senses.“You want the truth, Cara?” His voice is rough. Like gravel scraping against bone. His eyes lock onto mine, intense. As if he can see every piece of me I’m trying to keep hidden. “You won’t like it. Hell, I’m not even sure I can stomach saying it, but you need to hear it.”I don’t respond. I can’t. The words are stuck in my throat, tangled with the confusion and hurt that have been twisting inside me since the moment I was brought in here. He isn’t the man I thought he was.
{EDMONDO’S POV}**“Cover up,” I order. I’m back to being cold again. It’s for a good purpose. It’s so we both, me especially, don’t get distracted. “You’re not off the hook yet.”But her voice cuts through my coldness, raw and jagged. “And then what? Just leave?”Cara sits up on the bed, trembling, her wild eyes locking onto mine. The sight of her; the flushed face, wet hair plastered to her cheeks, and the faint tremor in her lips… it all hits me like a sledgehammer.She throws her words at me sharply and doesn’t relent. “You just walk away like it’s none of your concern? All the damn time. Like you have nothing to do with me? Like I’m nothing?”I stiffen. My jaw clenches and so does my fist.But she isn’t done.“Speak to me, Edmondo!” she shouts, her voice breaking. And then… God help me, she starts crying. Her tears fall in streams as she shakes her head. Her whole body trembles.This isn’t the