Page 3 of Secret Revenge

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I couldn’t help it.”

He said nothing, but stared at me.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” I ventured, searching for any trace of humanity behind his steely eyes. “All the pain you inflict, the lives you ruin?”

“It’s just business, signora.” His gaze never wavered, devoid of emotion. “If not us, someone else would be doing it.”

Bianchi came back downstairs. “Enough chit-chat, Luca,” he said, his impatience palpable. “You’ve had your water and a few minutes alone with Frankie, Liliana. Are you ready to cooperate?”

“Never,” I repeated, the fire in my eyes matching the intensity of my words. But I didn’t even know what he wanted from me.

His lips curled into a sinister smile as he motioned to Luca. “She’s all yours. See what you can do with her.”

“Please,” I begged, desperation seeping through my carefully constructed façade. “Don’t do this.”

“Sorry, signora,” Luca replied, his voice devoid of emotion. “Orders are orders.”

As the first blow landed, I closed my eyes and retreated within myself, drawing on every ounce of strength I possessed. I would not break. I would not give in.

“Such a pretty thing to waste away in a place like this,” Luca mused, circling me like a predator stalking its prey. “But orders are orders.”

“Remember this moment, Luca,” I warned, my voice thick with fury and resolve. “When it’s over, you’ll wish you’d shown me mercy.”

“Empty threats won’t save you, Liliana,” he replied coldly. “But by all means, keep trying.”

“Go to hell.”

“Perhaps I will. But not before you.”

With those haunting words, Luca and Bianchi left me alone in the darkness. The weight of my captivity bore down on me, threatening to crush my spirit and snuff out the last flicker of hope that had kept me going.

But I refused to let it happen. No matter how much pain Antonio Bianchi inflicted upon me, no matter how long I spent shivering in this prison, I would not let him break me.

As the minutes turned to hours, I clung to the belief that somehow, against all odds, escape was possible. And when I did finally get out of here,, I vowed to make Antonio Bianchi pay for every moment of suffering he had caused.

For now, though, I sat in the darkness, my heart pounding in time with the steady drip of water from the ceiling above. I knew my battle was far from over, but I had no choice but to gather what little strength remained and prepare myself for the next harrowing chapter in my fight for survival.

Chapter 2

Liliana

The damp cold of the cellar pressed upon me, accompanied by a musty scent that clung to my nostrils. The ropes around my wrists had loosened, and the back of the wooden chair I was tied to had cracked when Frankie knocked me over. The creaks and groans of the old house above me provided a menacing soundtrack to my desperate situation.

If Nicholas really didn’t know where I was, I needed to save myself.

Now that my arms were free from the confinement of the chair, I reached over to slip one wrist out of the rope’s suffocating embrace. The coarse fibers scraped against my skin, but I bit my lip to stifle the pain. As soon as I freed myself, I hastily untied the other wrist and massaged my limbs, encouraging blood flow to return to my numbed arms and legs. I had no idea how long I’d been down there. I could see light through the small window so I thought I’d been gone for at least a day.

As I worked to regain sensation in my fingers, thoughts of Nicholas filled my mind. He had always been fiercely protective of me, and I knew he would be searching for me relentlessly. But I couldn’t rely on him alone; I had to fight for my own survival.

Once the blood began flowing again, I considered standing up but quickly dismissed the idea. If I fell, the noise would surely alert my captors to my newfound mobility. Instead, I remained seated and took another minute to warm up my muscles.

“Patience,” I reminded myself. “There will be a way out. I just have to find it.”

“Must be cautious,” I whispered to myself once I was ready to move. I crept up the stairs, staying close to the edge in an attempt to avoid any creaking spots. My heart thudded relentlessly against my chest, its rhythm a reminder of the danger that lurked just beyond the door in front of me.

I paused for a moment and pressed my eye to the keyhole, peering into the dimly lit kitchen. Several men were gathered around the table, laughing and playing cards. A chill ran down my spine as I recognized the cold, calculating gaze of Antonio Bianchi, his sharp grey eyes surveying the room with ruthless determination.

Damn it. The odds seemed insurmountable, and yet, I had to find a way out. Swallowing hard, I retreated back down the stairs, my mind racing with possibilities.

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