Chapter 152

"I am looking for someone." "Christian Norman, I heard... But you shouldn't." "I don't care what I should or shouldn't do," I snapped. "My life is at risk."

Her blonde eyebrow arched.

"You came to make a deal with assassins, didn't you?" "No, I came to talk to a police officer who helped me with my parents' case."

A luxurious laugh filled the space where only the two of us were.

"Police officer? Here? Oh, sweetheart, you don't know where you've come."

I froze with the tremor of her words.

"I’m in Rome, right?" "Not the holy Rome, my dear. Yes, the society of danger. Here you have the bloodiest and most wanted men drinking, relaxing, and living with their sins. Here, it can be a safe place as long as you're one of them, but there are rules everyone knows to survive. One of them is that you must be welcome, another is that no one related to politics enters, and interrogations are not allowed." "So, Christian Norman is not here?" She scrutinized me, pondering what to say.

"Not today, as far as I know. What's your name again? And I don't want to hear 'Sophia Evans.'" "Emilia Gray." "Emilia Gray... Daughter of the deceased directors of Othello?"

I blinked.

"Yes." She crossed her arms beneath her heavy breasts, covered by a thin layer of crimson lace.

"The man who wants to buy you can help you. You won't leave here without regretting coming in, so I think selling yourself for information is a good path." "What? I’m not going to give my body for that!" "That's what the women do here," she replied. "You should be grateful the security guard didn’t fracture your skull. There are few women who commit crimes and come to Rome. They know the two who do, and neither of them is you. You should have been eliminated already."

My face contorted.

"I…" "You were going to undress. What's the harm in doing what he asks for information you want so much?" "I’m not going to have sex." Her white teeth appeared.

"Who mentioned sex?" Four knocks on the door broke our conversation, and two security guards appeared.

"Owen is waiting. Why isn't she dressed?" Clarisse shrugged.

"Take her like this. He’ll enjoy the work of undressing the girl."

I analyzed her, silently begging for a quick escape to get out of there. I was putting myself in more danger than I wanted.

The security guards grabbed me, pushing me down a dark corridor. I considered kicking and screaming, but it wouldn't get me anywhere. I needed to think of a better strategy. I needed to be coherent and rational because only then would I destroy Dante.

We climbed a few steps after finishing the hall and reached a larger room, decorated with wealth and luxury.

The aroma of the space was almost like gold, scenting and intoxicating every air passage. The wait for the arrival of Owen suffocated my patience. I watched the clock's hands fall slowly, almost intentionally provoking more anxiety.

When I thought I couldn't take the wait any longer, the male figure in a suit reappeared. My defensive mode subdued my movements as I identified a stranger and not the person I wanted.

"I thought you'd be ready for me," he announced.

I inhaled.

"I want Christian Norman, and you’ll have whatever you want." His chin lifted slightly, his gaze scanning my silhouette.

"What’s this about?" he asked, approaching a counter in the room and filling a glass with whiskey. "It’s him I want to talk to. If that's not the case, you don’t have what you want." "You really think you dictate the rules in Rome?"

I scanned the space, looking for something that would give me an advantage to hit him and escape.

"Is The Dominion looking for you, Emilia Gray?"

My fists clenched, gripping the fabric of my coat.

He knew my name. Specifically, my last name.

Did Clarisse tell him?

"What the hell is this Dominion?" I asked.

He gave a small smile behind the glass of reddish liquid.

"The subjects of Dante Faulkner. The Captain." My mouth hardened. "You’re being hunted by them. They want to kill you. Why do you think that is?"

I took a step back.

Because I was a loudmouth. They had picked the wrong person, and they knew I could mess with their identity.

"Guess. Use your little head to think," I mocked, unable to contain my irritation.

"You’re funny." He set his glass down. "You don’t need Christian. I can help you much more than he ever would. We can be partners. If you give me the address and names of each person, I’ll give you what you want."

I raised an eyebrow.

"What I want?" "Dante’s head." My chest shrank. "The guy who ruined your life, right? The one who left you helpless, completely alone. You’re looking for revenge, and he knows you’re a threat to him. Not just for what you can do, but for the weapon you have against him."

It was unsettling that they knew so much about what happened, who I was, and my relationship with Dante. It was an exposure that made me vulnerable.

"And what is it?" I asked.

"You know. You feel it."

My fingers dug into my palm.

"It’s been a long time," I confessed. "Dante doesn’t feel anything for me. I feel it, and it’s much worse than you can imagine."

"Do you want to kill him?"

I shook my head.

I had blown up his car, but only to kill time. I didn’t want him dead.

"I want him to suffer. I want him to rot," I hissed through clenched teeth.

A malicious smile twisted his mouth.

"I’ll give you that." His proximity was closing in. "If you give me the information, I’ll give you Dante. I’ll make him your feast. Your best dinner. What do you think?"

It was tempting, as well as horrifying.

The words feast and dinner were metaphors, but I felt something inside me that made me gag.

Thinking I would be on the opposite side was advantageous. I would be an enemy to Dante, and I could have an army to fight with me. It wouldn’t just be me alone. I would have someone to share my hatred with.

However, rationality spoke louder.

"Why do you want to know the identity of The Dominion?" I asked, leaving no gaps for the feelings that controlled me. "Who are you guys? I need my information too."

His brow furrowed, his eyes processing something that seemed so right just seconds ago.

Shit. I had messed up without realizing it.

His steps became cautious as he closed the distance between us.

"Don’t you know?"

"I want to hear what you have to say. I’m the one asking the questions now."

I tried to take control again.

"What do you know about the death of your parents? Who were they? What did they do to Dante?"

My reaction was a mirror of my soul.

The man had opened the right lock on what I kept hidden, touching the most sensitive subject for me: my parents.

"You don’t work for The Factory..." he finally said, his voice that of someone who had reached a conclusion.

And I didn’t like it.

Damn.

I immediately took a step forward, making a quick run toward a corner that might lead me to an exit, but the security guards stopped me, restraining my arms and suffocating me.

"Let go of me, you assholes!" I screamed, kicking my legs high.

Once again, I had fallen into the wolf’s mouth. I was stupid, damn it. I should have looked for more clues. I should have investigated better what I was getting myself into before trying to bargain for something.

"Give me the identity of the Empty Faces, and I’ll give you your life in exchange."

I kept kicking the air, trying to hit the men holding me, but my efforts were annihilated.

They would kill me if I gave them what I knew.

"We’re taking her downstairs. Maybe with a few fingers cut off, she’ll open that mouth of hers."

I couldn’t let that happen.

I couldn’t.

The guy pressed his fingers against my mouth, pushing his disgusting, sweaty fingers, soaked in whiskey, against my cheeks. His rancid breath burned my eyes, as if I were reacting to sulfuric acid.

"Or maybe I don’t want the fingers cut off."

His horrifying gaze stripped parts of my body. His tongue licked his mouth as one of his hands left my face and began playing with the zipper of my coat, giving him a better view of my skin. The men held me tighter, preventing me from moving an inch.

I closed my eyes, whispering to myself for that nightmare to pass. For me to be able to find a quick solution and get out of there. But it felt like I was losing myself. It felt like I was running out of strength.

Three days of fighting.

I was exhausted.

I was going to give up, just like I couldn’t do anything after my parents died.

I was powerless against any of them. I was powerless against Dante. I had submitted to a war without allies, without weapons. I was nothing. My parents hadn’t raised a warrior. They had raised a girl who was trampled on. Massacred. Broken.

They left behind a daughter destroyed inside, and now I would be destroyed on the outside.

I was dead inside, heart, and the will to keep living.

A shot I was already familiar with echoed through the atmosphere.

I felt thick drops fall on my face, the intense smell infecting my nose. The sound of a limp body hitting the ground and the sudden drop of my ass onto the wet floor made my eyes open.

I didn’t have time to observe it.

I didn’t even have time to realize exactly who was being shot.

Two more shots rang out, more agonizing sounds from each man’s mouth leaving the air before they lost their lives.

This time, I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t feel anger.

The face, clad in pure steel and rage, the steps marking territory, and his broken and resentful soul, showing every ounce of his being that no longer cared for life and consorted with death.

The black coat, the hood covering the same-colored cap. His uniform was darkness, just like what he brought with him.

Debauchery.

It was him. A combination of shameless and cruel atoms.

That was Dante.

And to think it had always been, was a stab in the back that hurt more than the very death of my parents.

When he approached, I shrank back. Whatever came from him, I wouldn’t have the strength to push back. I wouldn’t be able to defend myself. I was tired. He had won.

I admitted my defeat.