Page 22 of Cruel Deception
Arachnophobia has stalked me ever since that basement—since my father’s twisted punishment turned spiders into living nightmares.
Every dream drags me back there, seven years old, helpless, my screams swallowed by silence.
I lift my head, eyes darting to the ceiling again, half-expecting a black tide to pour down.
My chest throbs—not just from the dream, but from reality. My father’s locked me in here, accusing me of Nico’s death, and Cassian’s out there, waiting to claim my “last breath” over a bike I can’t find.
I rock slightly, whispering, “It’s not real,” but the words can’t erase the crawling sensation, the terror that’s as much a part of me as my scars.
A glance at my phone shows it’s past midnight.
Luca’s promise to get me out feels like a lifeline, but doubt gnaws at me.
I curl tighter into myself, my breath still uneven, the taste of fear bitter on my tongue. Spiders or not, I’m trapped in a web, and every move I make only tightens the threads.
The morning sun mocked me from behind locked windows as I got dressed in silence. The door was still bolted from the outside—my father’s idea of control. But Luca said he’d get me out. If there’s one thing I’m clinging to right now, it’s that promise.
I hadn’t come back here for reconciliation. I came for Vincent. My brother. And now he’s gone—vanished like a ghost on one of Father’s covert missions. If anything happens to him, I swear... I’ll make Grayson bleed.
I was halfway through applying concealer to the bruising near my collarbone when the knock came. Not a soft knock—a violent thud.
My father barged in, his jaw tight with fury. “You moved up the wedding with the Morettis,” he growls, his fists clenched, veins bulging at his temples. “Think you’re clever, Charlotte?”
I meet his glare in the mirror, keeping my voice cool. “Surprised? Where’s Vincent?”
His jaw tightens, his eyes flashing with rage, like he’s seconds from striking me.
The nightmare from last night—spiders, his cruelty when I was seven—flickers in my mind.
This man tortured me as a child, likely sold my mother, shipped me off to Grandfather’s, and now can’t even tell me where my brother is. Monster doesn’t begin to cover it.
“I’ll warn you once, Charlotte,” he growled. “The Morettis won’t protect you forever. You’re playing a game you won’t win.”
“What do you know about the Morettis?” A new voice cuts through, smooth and lethal.
Luca stands in the doorway, his tailored suit pristine, his dark eyes cold. “Walls have ears, Grayson.” He calls my father by his first name, a subtle power play that makes my father’s face redden.
Luca gestures to me, polite but commanding. “Miss Charlotte.”
I grab my duffel bag, already packed with essentials, and brush past my father, feeling his glare sear my back.
Vincent, Mom—I’ll find you both, I vow silently, stepping into the hallway. Freedom tastes sharp, but it’s laced with dread.
Outside, Luca leads me to a black armored Escalade, its tinted windows and reinforced frame screaming politician-level security.
Two more SUVs fall in behind us, their engines growling like guard dogs. We slide into the backseat, the leather cool against my skin. Silence stretches, heavy and expectant, as the convoy moves through the city.
“Wondering how I pulled it off?” Luca asks, his voice calm, almost amused, as he taps at an iPad, its screen glowing with encrypted files.
I shake my head, my throat tight. “No. Just... thank you.”
He nods, his focus back on the screen, fingers flying across it.
No more words, just the soft clack of keys.
Is this my future? Married to a man who’s more shadow than substance, coolly dangerous, not the brash mafia stereotype but something quieter, deadlier? I know nothing about him, and the thought of a lifetime in this silence chills me.
The Escalade glides into the Moretti estate, its iron gates parting like a curtain to power.
