Chapter 5

The older man watches me intently. The gleam in his eyes is something between cruel amusement and sick satisfaction. He takes another slow deliberate sip from his glass, as if savouring the moment. He's clearly a man that enjoys his victories drawn out.

"You were never just some random acquisition," he muses as he sets down the glass. "We knew exactly who you were the moment you stepped onto that stage... but, perhaps more importantly, we knew exactly who would come looking for you."

The air around us grows thick as the weight of his words slowly presses down on my chest. I can't help but to curl my fingers into fists on my lap as hot anger surges through me like a forest fire.

"You're bait," the man continues in that sick smooth almost mocking tone of his. "Your ex-fiancé made some unfortunate enemies, and you? Well, you're quite the prize possession, aren't you?"

I silently clench my jaw so tight at the insufferable matter-of-fact tone it starts to ache. The thought of that bastard--- of being used as leverage against him--- makes my blood simmer with renewed rage.

"You're wasting your time," I grit out angrily. "He doesn't care about me."

The man across from me chuckles. It's low, deep and downright evil. "Oh, sweetheart. It's not about love or care. It's about ownership. You see, I own you now..."

The thought of being reduced to nothing more than a pawn in his stupid game amplifies the fury already coursing through me. It's now burning hotter and faster than before.

I want to lunge at him and tear that smug satisfaction right off his fucking face or better yet make him choke on that arrogance. I manage to remain rooted in place because my feet feels somehow anchored by the sheer weight of his revelation. 

Instead, I sink my nails deeper into my palm, digging past flesh and reason, until warm blood beads pools from the scratches but I don't shift my expression. I don't give them the satisfaction of seeing me squirm. "What if I don't play along? What if I refuse?"

The man watches me for a moment, then leans forward. The cold amusement in his eyes sends an icy chill down my spine. "I'm not into the bullshit bella. If you don't, I won't hesitate to put you in your place. And if that doesn't work---" His smirk stretches into something almost delighted, the next words that leave his lips are a razor sharp promise. "---well, a bullet to the head should put us both out of our misery."

The threat hangs in the air like the thick scent of wine and leather around us. My pulse pounds even harder against my ribs. Leaving this shithole is way harder than I had imagined. I won't back down though. Not now. Not ever. Every empire crumble from the top. I just have to find the right piece to pull. And this man sitting across from me? He's obviously the king of this rotting kingdom, the don who pulls the strings, the fool who thinks he owns me and ultimately, the egomaniac I'll tear down piece by piece.

For now, I'll swallow the rage burning my throat and force the fire into embers. If I can't fight with fury, maybe I can fight it with something sharper. Perhaps innocence or naivety. Let him think I'm just another pawn until I flip the board damn board then it's checkmate! 

My eyes follow the man as he leans back with a amused smile on his lips. "Until then, I'm sure you can make yourself useful in the meantime."

I raise a brow. "How?"

His smirk deepens and that sick, pleased glint returns in his gaze. "You were a nurse before all of this, weren't you bella?" He tilts his head slightly, feigning curiosity. "We could use a skilled set of hands around the estate. Injuries happen... people need care... blah blah blah. Just do as you're told, and perhaps, we won't have to get too unpleasant."

I inhale sharply as my stomach twists into knots. The idea of being forced back into that role under their terms makes my skin crawl.

Before I can respond, the door swings open, and a woman strides inside.

She's beautiful in a way that's sharp and cutting. Typical long legs and dark eyes that flicker with something unreadable but it's the dismissive way she barely spares me a glance that makes even super aware of my place here. She's in a sheer mini dress that clings to her body like a second skin and a bad attitude about here that completes the classic bitch aesthetic. 

"Didn't think we needed another girl in the collection," the woman saunters towards the man at the head of the table. When she reaches him, her nails trace along his shoulder as she leans down and brushes the tip of his ear with her red stained lips. "Don't we satisfy you well enough?"

The intimate whisper hangs in the air, but it slithers over my skin like something rotten. I fight down the bile rising in my throat as my stomach twist with revulsion at her words. 

The older man's chuckle, it's a low and indulgent sound like he's savouring every bit of the drama that's slowly brewing. The man across from me though doesn't even blink. His cold eyes are locked on mine. They are calculating, and completely devoid of any conscience.

"She's going to be useful in... other ways,"

The woman straightens and pulls away from him then flick her flowy jet black hair. Her lips twist in a smirk as she sizes me up again, only slower this time. I can practically feel the judgment radiating off her thin frame.

"Oh? This one has hidden talents?" the woman purrs but the way she says it, it's not out of curiosity. It's a blatant warning. She then lets out an exaggerated sigh, as if she's now grown bored with the whole charade. "You seem a little tense. Let me help with that... We could have some fun."

"Shut up." His response is immediate, low and commanding. His brown eyes, however, remain locked on me, as though he haven't even heard her utter a word. 

The woman presses again, clearly not deterred by his coldness. "Come on, just for a little while. What's the harm?" 

Her tone almost sounds like she's pleading, but it's frankly more of an annoyance for him than anything else.

The man's face hardens and his eyes narrow. Without warning, he grabs the woman by the neck. "Shut the fuck up. Now."

His voice drops to a deadly calm as his fingers tightens with a merciless grip. Each word is measured and sharp, but she doesn't flinch or even attempt to fight back. There's a strange resignation in her eyes, a hollow stillness as if she's used to this, used to being handled like in this cruel manner. And that's the most unnerving part of it all.

The man dark eyes flicker toward her. There's still no emotion behind them, just a cold, detached calculation, like he's assessing a tool that's grown dull or a pet that's forgotten its place. He shows no pity or regret or even anger, just indifference that cuts deeper than his rage ever could.

"You know what to do. Go to the fucking Dungeon." He releases her with a hard shove which causes her to stumble slightly but she manages to catches herself. She glares at me, the contempt is clear in her gaze. Without another word, the woman storms down the hall. The loud clicking of her heels follow her out of the room.

Silence falls across the space for a beat.

"Oh, where were we?" A sadistic smile falls across his pink lips. "Right. Don't fuck with me. I don't always play nice."

He leans back, almost lazily, as though he's just toying with me. I can feel the weight of his words and their meaning pressing down on me like a heavy hand. It's a warning... his warning.

Just as the silence becomes unbearable, the door opens, and another woman walks in. Her presence is commanding, but there's something dangerous about her too.

"Buona sera," she greets in a thick Italian accent. Her eyes lazily scan the room catching the tension that is lingering like a bad perfume. With a smirk tugging at her dark red lips, she tosses her coat onto a nearby chair. "Tell me, did you finally find a girl who doesn't cry the first night, or is this one just too stupid to be scared?"

The man chuckles, and for the first time tonight, something like warmth flickers in his soulless eyes. He rises from his chair with that cruel smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

"Vedi bello," he glances my way then at her. "My little sister."

The familiarity between them is instant and effortless in a way only blood can be.

His sister strolls further into the room. Her hips sways with the confidence of someone who's never had to fear the consequences of her mouth. Her heels click softly against the polished floor as she approaches, then settles her brown eyes on me with something between amusement and indifference.

"Pretty," she says with a tilt of her head, as if I'm some new toy on display. "But fragile. I give her two days before she begs to leave."

I straighten in my seat, the sting of her words lashes against the fire already simmering in my chest. They are casual, but there's a threat lurking beneath them, like she's daring me to prove her wrong. I want to bite back, to show her that I'm not the one who needs to throw cheap insults to feel powerful--- but I don't. Not yet. I just meet her gaze, unwavering.

She narrows her eyes slightly, catching the defiance I don't bother to hide. Then she laughs in a low, amused voice.

"I like this one," she says to her brother. "She's got teeth. You better not break her too fast. It's always more fun when they last."

He smirks, but doesn't respond. Instead, he turns to me again with that same calculating look.

"Enough chit-chat, we've got business to discuss." the softness is now gone from his voice as he waves a hand dismissively at me. "You're done for now. Go."

I don't hesitate. I rise with slow control, ignoring the sister's smug smile as I walk past her. Her perfume is sharp, expensive and toxic. She leans in slightly as I pass.

"Don't get too comfortable, ragazza," she whispers. "This place finds a way to eat even the tough ones alive."

I don't flinch. I keep walking, down the same winding hall that brought me here, until I come back across the room I was in.

I slam the door behind me, the sound crackles through the silence like a warning shot. I go to press the lock but there is none, just a gaping hole where one should be.

They want me to feel vulnerable. Helpless. Unable to escape. But I won't play that role.

I pace the room instead of collapsing. I don't curl up and cry--- I don't have that luxury. Not here. Not ever again. I trace the edges of the space with sharp, measured steps, as I scan everything from the clean ceiling to the reinforced windows. This isn't a room, it's a gilded cage more than anything.

I pause in front of the dim floor length mirror. The girl looking back at me isn't soft. Her eyes are hard. Focused. There's a split in her lip and blood on her palms, but she's not scared. She's calculating.

They think I'm nothing but a tool. A means to an end. A pawn in a bloody game of revenge meant to lure out the man I once promised forever to.

They don't know that forever ended the night he vanished.

I don't know what he did--- what debt he owes, what promises he broke to these people--- but it must've been something fucking colossal if they went through the trouble of finding me. I'm not even in his world anymore. Not really. Not since he disappeared and left me to pay for his mistakes. Not since I was forcely trafficked.

But they don't care about that.

They want him and judging by the tone of it, it's dead. They want him dead.

That smug bastard with the cruel eyes wants to use me as a damn dangling bait to draw him out of hiding.

I lean against the cold window frame and stare out into the dark, trying to piece together a plan while my blood still runs hot with fury. If they think I'm going to sit pretty until my ex waltzes in and dies on command, they've got me all wrong.

I'll soon find the cracks in their empire. I'll soon find out who they are, what they want, and most importantly where it hurts the most. And when I do, I'll burn it all down to ash.

They should've picked someone weaker because I'm not the bait, I'm the storm these fuckers didn't see coming.

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