LOGINTWO YEARS AGOI didn't plan to run.That's what I keep telling myself, even as my bare feet press against the cold floor of the hallway. That it wasn't a decision. Not really. Just pressure—three days of it—building behind my ribs until something had to give.Three days without food.My father's expressionless face when he handed me over, like I was a debt finally settled.Lorenzo's voice in that first conversation, cold as winter glass, said, "Your father gave you away before I even touched you. Remember that."I remember.I remember everything.That's the problem.The hallway outside my room looks different at night. Or maybe I'm just seeing it clearly for the first time—the way the shadows eat the corners, the way the air smells like old wood and something metallic I don't want to name.My throat is sandpaper. I haven't drunk anything in three days either. Stubbornness. Or pride. Or the last shred of something that still feels like mine.When I noticed the door wasn't locked tonigh
TWO YEARS AGO The first morning at the De Luca's mansion, I refused breakfast out of pride.The second morning, I refused it out of anger.By the third day, I refused it because I had already come too far to stop.The tray sat untouched on the small table beside the window.Fresh fruit, toast, coffee.Enough food to feed a family.I stared at it until the smell turned my stomach.Then I looked away.The door opened a few minutes later.The same maid entered.Quiet like always She never spoke.Never looked directly at me.She simply collected the tray.Untouched.Again.If she found it strange that I hadn't eaten in three days, she didn't show it.Then again, perhaps strange things happened every day in Lorenzo De Luca's house.Perhaps girls sold by their fathers arrived often enough that no one bothered asking questions anymore.The thought made something ugly twist inside my chest.I turned away before the maid could see the tears gathering in my eyes.Not that she would care.Nobo
TWO YEARS AGO It was 3 a.m. when they came for me.Not even a warning knock. Not even the courtesy of footsteps in the hallway that might have given me time to pretend I wasn’t afraid.The door slammed open instead.“Get up.”Alberto’s voice came first. My fathers Consgliere He wasn't loud like my father. He didn't need to be though.I sat up so fast the sheets twisted around my legs. He signaled the men standing behind him and they quickly grabbed me on both arms.“What is this? Let me go.”I didn’t wait for answers. I didn’t want answers. I swung my legs out of bed and tried to fight them off.It was pointless.He caught my wrist like I weighed nothing.“Don’t make this difficult,” he said, already dragging me out.“I said let me go!” My voice cracked halfway through.I kicked once. Twice. It didn’t matter. My feet barely hit the floor before I was being hauled down the corridor like I wasn’t a person with bones and breath and a name.The house was too quiet for this.Even the wall
I couldn't shake it off no matter how hard I tried.My father's cold dead eyes stared at meBlood splattering across the warehouse floor.Lorenzo's voice barking orders somewhere behind me.Then the gunshot.And another.Chaos.Screaming.I remember dropping to my knees.I remember reaching for my father.I remember Lorenzo catching me before I hit the ground.Then nothing.My eyes fly open.For a moment, I can't breathe.The warehouse is gone.The blood is gone.But the horror remains.I sit up sharply, panic crashing through me.Why am I alive?The last thing I remember is my father dying.The last thing I remember is Lorenzo carrying me away while the world burned behind us.My pulse thunders in my ears as I look around.Stone walls.A king-size bed, a steel door to remind me of my fate, no window, and no means of escape.The answer settles in my stomach like a stone.LorenzoI sit up too fast.Pain explodes behind my eyes.The last thing I remember is Lorenzo’s voice in my ear."L
Every second that went by tightened around my neck like a leash. I knew I was nothing but a whore to him, but Lorenzo De Luca is a possessive bastard, he wouldn't want me gone either.I tried recalling what had transpired between us and that was when it hit me.That bastard was too calm when I spoke with him earlier, too patient, it has never been in his DNA to be calm. Not unless he's hunting."Did I fall into his trap?" I blurted out wide open,I didn't just become his prey, I was pacing the dusty floor of the rundown safehouse, my fingers trembling in fear.I quickly checked the locks, twice, then again, while I chant to myself that I am safe.If I knew him better, he wouldn't hesitate to kill me for betraying him.There is no way he could find me, this place is located on the outskirts of the city where even rats forget to visit."He can't find me"But then I heard it, a knock, it came once, my heart began racing, and I thought about many ways he could kill me."Open up!" Dad yell
I paced the cracked tiles of the abandoned warehouse, clutching the burner phone so tightly in my hands that the cheap plastic creaked. The air smelled of rust and mold, a sharp contrast to the luxury I had enjoyed these past two years. It was exactly 2:00 am when I made the call, I knew he would be awake. Lorenzo would always say sleep is for men who don't have empires to run or enemies to bury. My hands were all sweaty and shaky when it rang the first time. He picked up in the third ring. No greeting. "Speak" his voice came smoothly and deadly sending chills down my spine. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat, "I have your whore" I spat out There was silence, and I can almost hear him lean forward. "Who is this?" "Let's just say, I have your little play thing, Isabelle"Silence filled the air, again. But I press on, "She's alive, for now, but if you want to see her again, you will do exactly as I say"He laughs, slow and unamused "Is that so?"I quickly hang up befo







