CHAPTER 72: Blood Ties

CHAPTER 72: Blood Ties
CHAPTER 72
SOFIA.

My heart sank into my stomach as he asked me the question, his words hitting me like a punch in the gut. I felt torn between telling him the truth and denying the claim of being Giovanni's daughter, mostly for the fear of what he would do if he discovered I was really his daughter, or what he would do with that piece of information. He had already mentioned that Giovanni had betrayed him in the past, and so I feared that accepting that I was his daughter might make him harm me, just to get his pound of flesh.

“How's that important?” I asked, mustering courage to look up at him. “Is that going to answer my question of why I'm kept here hostage for no reason?”

He cocked his head at my question, an amused smile appearing on his face. “How bold of you,” he sneered.

“You've not answered—”

“You're either going to answer my question in one piece, or you'll leave me with no option but to force it out of you, leaving you in pieces,” he said, cutting me off. His eyes darkened as he looked at me. “Who is Giovanni to you, and how are you related to him?”

“I-I am not,” I said, shaking my head slowly, implying the negative. “I am not Giovanni's daughter, and he means absolutely nothing to me.”

The masked man suddenly pulled out a pistol beneath his shirt where he had strapped it all along. It glinted in the sunlight that was filtering in through a slit in the curtains.

“Now, listen to me, young lady,” he said, pointing the gun to me and a wave of panic washed over me as I stiffened, swallowing hard. My hands began trembling— palms clammy with sweat. “No one in the world knows where you are, and nobody, not even Lucas, can ever find you except I want him to.”

I said nothing as he spoke, and my throat immediately felt parched as my legs began to shake in fear. The masked man stepped closer, closing the gap between us and I stood still, not moving an inch. He cupped the back of my head with one hand, pressing the gun to the side of my skull. The metal was cold against my skin, yet it burned me with an intensity I could not explain.

This was life or death, but the last thing I was going to do was let my captor think I was scared.

“I've said this before, and I'm saying it again. Go ahead and shoot me if you damn well please,” I said haughtily, trying to hide the panic in my voice. The gun clicked and I stilled, eyes widening in fear at the realization that this was real. What on earth had possessed me earlier to be snarky with him?

“Now I'm going to ask you this again, and I'll be asking one last time. Who is Giovanni to you?” he asked again, his voice colder and deadlier than before. I knew there was no way in the world I could bring myself to lie, but at the same time, I couldn't just sell myself out like that.

“Speak!” he yelled, pressing the gun further into my head and I felt my pulse spike up.

“Okay, okay, I'll talk,” I said, my voice shaking with panic. “Giovanni is my father. I came to Italy in the first place to find him, and he mysteriously disappeared the same day we met. There's nothing else I know, I swear. You have to believe me,” I rattled on, my words coming out fast and without thoughts. My body vibrated tremendously with fear, and my dress soon became drenched as sweat dripped profusely down my body.

He said nothing for a while, then suddenly released his grip on me, pushing me away from him. He strapped the pistol back to its initial position and crossed his arms over his chest, watching me as I gasped for air, breathing heavily. My lungs felt suddenly free as I inhaled deeply, trying to catch my breath and steady myself.

“Why did you marry Lucas?” he asked again, looking at me. “What was the motive behind the marriage?”

I turned to him sharply, staring at him as I felt my blood go cold at his question. Why did I marry Lucas? Was I really going to delve into details, mentioning Unit 13 in the process? That was way too risky, as he could as well be one of their mercenaries and that would only compound the whole problem. I continued to stare at him blankly, unsure of what to say as random thoughts rummaged through my mind, none of them safe enough to be said out loud.

“Can I use my last question?” I asked instead, trying to steer the conversation away from where it was headed. He stared at me for a long while before he burst into a long, dry mirthless laughter.

“What's funny? You gave me three chances at asking my questions, didn't you?” I asked, frowning at him as I found his laughter offensive. He lifted a hand in the air, and I suddenly went mute.

Without saying a word, he cleared his throat loudly and clapped three times, the sound of his fat palms echoing loudly in the room. He put his hands down and crossed them behind him, his eyes still fixed on me as I returned his gaze in confusion, wondering what the clapping meant.

In a few minutes, the door creaked open gently and a woman walked in, dressed in an elegant long flowing gown. My mouth went dry as I saw her, and I swallowed hard as my eyes rested on her face, and I recognized her immediately.

“Hello, Sofia,” she said and I felt myself go cold. My mind drifted to the photograph the masked man had initially shown me and my heart raced wildly, pounding loudly against my chest as reality dawned on me — the woman standing before me was no other person than my father's ex-wife.