THE DE LUCA BARGAIN のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 6

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

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

TWO 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