Chapter 21

Chapter 21

I can’t be sure whether Santino knows Matteo is still breathing. But if he ever discovers the truth? I don’t want to imagine what he might do.

Please, God—let him stay in the dark.

This is all on me. Everyone warned me about getting close to Santino Romano, but I didn’t listen. And now? I’m the idiot who walked straight into a trap.

“Let me out!” I scream, the words bouncing off the cold walls as I crash from the edge of the bed onto the wooden floor.

Santino storms out before I even gain my footing. The door slams behind him, the echo making me wince.

“Come back here, Santino! Let me the hell out!” My fists hammer against the thick wood, the metal cuffs cutting into my skin. My knuckles throb, but his silence only fuels the fury burning inside me. Eventually, I press my head to the door—out of breath and out of hope.

“I wish you were dead,” I whisper, voice raw and cracking. “I wish I’d never laid eyes on a twisted bastard like you.” Tears burn my face as they fall freely. “I wish I never loved you.”

Because I did. I truly did.

⸻

I’m drifting between sleep and exhaustion when I hear the lock disengage. It’s been hours—maybe longer. Time has lost meaning.

Someone enters. A tall man with hard eyes and a face marked by old scars steps into the room, a tray balanced in his hands. He lowers it to the floor without a word. I don’t know him—his bald head and brutal stare give nothing away.

I glance at the bland food: mashed potatoes and water. My stomach turns.

“I’m not hungry,” I mutter, glaring up at him.

He pushes the tray closer. “Orders from the boss. You need to eat.”

I meet his stare, jaw set. “I said I’m not eating.”

Then, I shove the tray violently aside, sending everything flying.

He doesn’t flinch. “Then you’ll eat it off the floor.”

And with that, he exits, leaving me in silence and shadows.

⸻

As night drapes itself over Via Santa Lucia, I shout until my throat’s raw. No answer comes. Just the echo of my own desperation.

I ache for Isabella. God, I hope Maria is holding her close. I pray Silver is keeping her safe. The thought of my daughter crying for me breaks me in ways Santino never could.

The door creaks.

He walks in.

Hands behind his back. Expression unreadable. Santino’s gaze pierces through the dim room like a blade.

“Why the hell are you always screaming?” His voice is sharp but low, almost calm.

His eyes land on the upturned tray before finding mine again. “You don’t get to starve yourself here. You’re going to need your strength.”

“I’d rather die starving than be a part of whatever twisted revenge you’re planning,” I snap.

He steps in close—so close I can feel the heat radiating off him. Then he kneels beside me and, without warning, his fingers close around my throat—not tight, just enough to make me freeze.

I’m caught. Helpless. My body paralyzed, lips parting in a strangled gasp.

He leans in, his breath grazing my cheek, his lips nearly brushing mine. His thumb trails the outline of my mouth. Then, just as suddenly, he pulls away and leaves.

I suck in air the moment the door clicks shut. I hate that my body reacts to him—still. Even now. He owns this room, but I won’t let him own me.

⸻

He returns minutes later, a glass of water in hand.

“Drink,” he commands, voice graveled and deep.

I look at his arms, the tattoos stretching over taut muscles. They used to fascinate me. Now, I despise every inch of him. “I’m not drinking anything from you.”

He doesn’t wait. In one swift motion, he grips my jaw and presses the glass to my lips. I try to resist. He forces a few gulps down my throat before pulling away.

His eyes never leave my lips.

I spit—right in his face.

His expression hardens. He sets the glass aside, then grabs my jaw so hard I cry out. “Don’t be stupid, Colina. I could end you in a heartbeat.”

The pain radiates through my face. A tear slips out despite my best effort.

He lets go, only to pat my cheek mockingly. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

He rises, his towering figure silhouetted in the faint light. “For years, I’ve thought about nothing but your cursed family,” he growls. “Rosettis. Every single one of you will pay. Just like you made mine bleed.”

A dark grin tugs at his lips.

Then he lowers his voice to a whisper. “I’m enjoying this more than I thought I would. Sleep tight, Colina. Tomorrow’s going to be long.”

He doesn’t move. Just stares.

Even in the midst of my rage, my gaze catches on his chiseled features. He’s more dangerous now. More beautiful. More lethal.

Damn it, Colina, stop.

I curse myself for even thinking it as he walks out with the empty glass.

⸻

I’ve lost count of the days. My wrists are raw from the cuffs. My hope is hanging by threads.

I miss Isabella more than I thought possible.

I’ll do anything to get out of here—even if it means playing Santino’s game. Seduction is my last card, and I’m ready to play it.

When the door opens again, I’m ready—positioned, poised. My dress pulled higher to expose skin he can’t ignore.

“Is that you?” I ask softly.

His silhouette fills the doorway. His eyes sweep up my legs.

But then—another set of footsteps. A familiar voice.

“Oh my God, Colina!” Lucia Romano rushes inside, horror on her face.

I see the panic in her eyes. I must look like hell. What has he turned me into?

She kneels beside me, hands trembling. “What did they do to you?” she breathes, her voice breaking.

I wince when she touches me. Everything hurts.

Lucia turns sharply. “Santino! What the hell is wrong with you?! Have you completely lost it?”

He stays quiet, eyes locked on me with cold focus.

“You can’t keep her like this!” Lucia snaps. “She’s not your prisoner!”

“She is mine,” he answers flatly. “Now get out and close the door.”

“No. I’m not walking away.” Lucia stands. “She’s broken. Look at her. This revenge… this madness… it’s destroying you.”

Santino’s stare flicks to her, then back to me. “I’m doing this for our parents. For us.”

“No,” Lucia says, her voice firm. “You’re doing this for yourself, because you’re drowning and can’t admit it.”

“You think I care what you believe?” he growls. “I’m just getting started.”

He storms out.

Lucia lingers, tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, covering her mouth.

But I don’t need apologies.

I need to get out.

She runs after him.

And I pray she finds her conscience before it’s too late.