CHAPTER 2

The soft texture below my skin was a stark contrast to the cold floor in the dungeon. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming. Then reality hit me - the auction.

My vision blurred as I tried to adjust my eyes to the lighting of where I was. My head throbbed like someone had hammered nails into my skull and my throat was dry. Whatever they had injected into my body left my body weak and my muscles aching.

I rubbed my temples, hoping the pain would subside. It didn’t. My eyes darted around the room, it was a bedroom, spotless and minimal, with a neatly separated bathroom and a dim bulb.

On the table was a tray with a covered plate, likely holding food and bottled water

This was miles apart from the dungeon. But that didn’t matter. None of it mattered. I needed to leave. Now!

I spotted a curtain that I could assume was……. A window.

I lazily pushed myself off the bed, my legs trembled as I half-staggered, half-ran toward it.

Yanking the curtains back, what I saw made my little hope shatter. It was locked. Not the kind of lock you could jimmy open with a hairpin, either. My stomach sank as I noticed the small, embedded sensor. If I tried to force it, alarms would go off. Outside the glass, a tall wall loomed, making it clear just how hopeless my situation was.

My fingers clenched my hair as I sank to the floor. The urge to cry swelled in my chest, but I shoved it down. No. My father didn’t raise me to break so easily.

But how did I get here? Italy? That was clear from the accents I heard during the auction, but something wasn't right, my captor's accent seemed to be more…. More American. “Where the hell am I?” I muttered quietly.

How long have I been knocked out? And why would Kirill sell me? He could’ve killed me and been done with it. What was the point of this? None of it made sense. I need to leave, Kirill selling me off is out of it because, from his look that day, he wanted to kill me.

First, I needed to eat to build up my strength to escape. Then, wash off this stench clinging to me.

With sluggish movements, I forced myself up, gripping the edge of the table to steady myself. The tray wobbled slightly as I uncovered the plate. A simple meal—bread, cheese, a bowl of soup. My fingers curled around the spoon, and I hesitated as I thought of the food being poisoned.

No. If they wanted me dead, they wouldn’t have spent more than half a million euros to get me.

I devoured the food with desperation, barely pausing to chew.

After I devoured the food like a half-starved animal, I made my way to the bathroom.

The mirror above the sink reflected someone I barely recognized. My eyes were sunken, shadowed by exhaustion, and my hair was stiff and in a tangled mess.

Suddenly I noticed something, I ran my fingers through my hair to be sure of it. A streak of white ran through the middle of the dark strands. My fingers twitched with the urge to snip it off, but I hesitated. The last thing I needed was to make myself look even worse.

My brows knitted together as my gaze dropped to my face. A mole sat beside my nose one I didn’t remember having.

“What the hell…?” I whispered.

The mole felt foreign like it had been stuck there. I pressed at it, ignoring the sting as I peeled it off.

My eyes drift down, taking in the rest of me. I had lost too much weight, my collarbones jutted out, my arms looked thinner than I remembered, and my bony fingers trembled slightly as I flexed them. I doubt I could lift anything heavier than a glass of water.

After what felt like hours of scrubbing, washing, and rinsing, I finally wrapped the towel around my body.

As I stepped out of the bathroom, the damp towel clung to my skin, doing little to keep the cold away. I ran a hand through my wet hair, squeezing out the excess water, but it only dripped onto my shoulders.

I searched wardrobes, closets, and drawers for clothes, a brush, a hairdryer, and even lotion but there was nothing. Not a single thing to dry my hair or keep my skin from feeling tight and raw.

Frustration bubbled up inside me.

“Did they expect me to sit here, dripping wet, with nothing to wear?” I muttered angrily, my eyes still darting around the room.

My gaze landed on the bed sheet.

“Not a bad idea.” I shrugged

I grabbed the bedsheet and wrapped it around myself, twisting and tucking it until it resembled a makeshift sarong gown. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than walking around naked.

I stormed to the door, yanking at the handle. Of course, I knew it was locked, I only wanted to let these bastards know I was awake. I banged the wooden door harder, “I’m awake! You hear me? Let me out, you bastards!”

Footsteps echoed on the other side. My heart raced as I took a few steps back, bracing myself. The door clicked open.

A tall man, easily over six feet, stepped in. His dark slick bun of hair and piercing brown eyes gave off an intimidating presence. The dark aura he exuded made it clear he wasn’t just a lackey. Still, I couldn’t tell if he was the Don or someone else of high rank.

Breathe, Alzna. Breathe.

“Listen,” I began, my voice trembling slightly despite my effort to sound steady. “I’m not this Catalina De Rosta or whoever you think I am. My name is Alzna. You’ve got the wrong person, okay? Let me go and you guys should find the real Catalina before you waste any more of your time.”

He didn’t blink. A brief flicker of recognition crossed his gaze like he knew me too well, but it vanished quickly, replaced by a cold stare. The kind of look that made my skin prickle. It was as if he was deciding whether I was worth keeping alive.

“Do I look stupid to you? Do you think I don't know you’re not Catarina?” He leaned back against the wall and shoved his hand into his pocket.

The voice at the auction echoed in my mind, he was the one who bought me.

My stomach twisted. I took a step back, glaring at him. “Then why the hell am I here? If you know I’m not Catalina, why did you keep me locked in here?”

When he didn’t answer, my pulse spiked. I needed to get out of here.

“Whatever this is, just fix it,” I snapped. “I don’t belong here.” I turned on my heel and strode toward the door.

He stretched out his arm blocking the doorway. His cold emotionless gaze pinned me in place.

“Nine hundred million euros. That’s what I paid. And you?” He leaned forward, which made me step back.

“You’re going to play Catalina De Rossi until I get what I want and when I’m done with you… I’ll discard you like the counterfeit you are.” He replied in a soothing-dangerous tone that made me feel queasy inside and from the way he sounded and how he stared at me, I knew he was DEAD serious.

The word “discard you” echoed in my ear.

For people like him, “discard” was another way of saying “kill”. I will never let that happen, NEVER!

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stand taller even as my knees threatened to give out. “I don't care how much you paid, you don't own me.”

He took a step toward me, and I instinctively stepped back. My heart raced as I continued retreating, he kept on approaching me until I was trapped against a wall.

“Move an inch near me and you will regret it!” I spat.

He didn't listen, instead he leaned in closer. Too close. I could feel his breath on my skin.

He lifted his hand and I flinched. But instead of hitting me, he pressed his palm against the wall beside my head, trapping me in place.

If living matters to you,” his voice was calm, “you’ll shut your mouth and obey. No questions. No mistakes.”

My pulse pounded. I cut my gaze at him and stared downward, and I saw the faint curve of a gun holstered at his side.

Just a mistake from me, and I might not see the next sunrise. I can’t die here. Not when…

The buzz of a phone interrupted my thoughts. He pulled it out from his pocket and glanced at it, muttering something I couldn’t catch, then pressed it to his ear.

Without sparing me another glance, he turned his back and spoke in a low voice.

He wasn’t letting me go. If I didn’t act now, I’d be trapped. Forever.

I have to get out of here. DO SOMETHING ALZNA! DO SOMETHING!!

Desperation took over. My eyes peeked around and landed on the bedside lamp. Without thinking, I grabbed it and swung with all my strength.

The lamp shattered against his head, and he staggered back.

I didn’t hesitate, I swung again, hitting the same spot. This time, he crumpled to the ground. My hands shook as I grabbed his gun and bolted out the door.

After going through multiple corners, the sight of the staircase leading down the foyer came into view, and so did the front door. Freedom. I almost screamed out of happiness as I scurried down the stairs.

My bare feet slapped against the cold steps, and I nearly tripped as the makeshift bedsheet tangled around my feet.

I reached the main door and grabbed the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. It was locked.

Footsteps thundered behind me. I spun around and saw his henchmen rushing down the stairs with their weapons drawn.

“Damn it!” I hissed.

“Stay back,” I warned sternly, pointing the gun towards them. “Don’t think I don’t know how to use this. One step closer, and I’ll shoot, I swear to fucking god!”

The guards hesitated, exchanging glances.

“Drop your weapons!” I shouted, to make my point. I pointed the barrel at my head. “Or I swear, I’ll pull this trigger!” I wasn't stupid to kill myself. I just wanted them to drop their guns and ask them to open the damn door.

Just when I thought they had obeyed me, the devil came outside. Blood trickled down his temples as he descended the stairs.

He yelled at them in Italian.

“Speak English you fucking psychopath!” I yelled.

His henchmen moved towards me, ignoring my trembling hand.

“I will shoot, I swear!” I aimed at the nearest guard and pulled the trigger.

Click.

Nothing.

The gun was empty.

FUCK!!!!!