Chapter 3 (Aura)

I wake up with a splitting headache, my mind foggy and disoriented. A groan escapes my lips as I roll onto my side, fighting the sudden urge to vomit. The nausea subsides, but confusion sets in.

Where am I?

My eyes struggle to focus in the dim light. I'm lying on a thin mattress on the floor of an empty room. The only other object I can make out is a metal bucket in the corner. What is this place?

I try to sit up, but dizziness overwhelms me. My head pounds harder. "Help," I croak, but my voice is barely audible, my throat parched and raw.

Suddenly, memories flood back. The living room. Blood. Screams. Mom's eyes, wide with terror. The gunshot.

Oh God, no.

No no no.

I curl into a ball, sobs wracking my body. They're gone. All of them. Mom, Dad, little Tommy. Murdered. And I watched it happen. I'm alone. The last Pietro.

I cry until there are no more tears left. Deep breaths. In and out. Focus. I need to get up.

It takes all my strength, but I manage to push myself upright. The room spins, but I force myself to look around.

There's a closet without a door against one wall. To my left, a window covered with wood. The entry door looks heavy, with a slit at eye level blocked by something dark.

This place... it's like a jail cell. Or maybe someone's twisted idea of a bedroom. At least I'm not tied up.

I grit my teeth and attempt to stand. My legs feel like jelly, my head pounding with each movement. It takes what feels like forever, but I finally make it to my feet.

My hand brushes against my scalp and I wince. There's a nasty welt there. Concussion, definitely. Who knows how long the effects will last?

I'm alive at least.

What happens next?

I close my eyes, trying to piece together the fragmented memories of my capture. The men's faces flash through my mind - unfamiliar, ruthless. They weren't Dad's people. No, these were his enemies.

Rage grows from a spark to a flame, threatening to spill over. "Damn you, Dad," I mutter through clenched teeth. "This is all your fault." My hands ball into fists, nails digging into my palms. Everyone I loved - gone. Because of him. Because he couldn't stay out of this dangerous world.

I shake my head, disgusted with myself. How naive I'd been, ignoring the signs, pretending everything was fine even after I learned the truth. If only I'd done something, anything. Maybe they'd still be alive.

I'm alone now, truly alone. Trapped in this makeshift prison with no idea what these people want. My stomach lurches uncomfortably as I consider the likely outcomes. None of them are good.

"Hello?" I call out weakly, my voice barely above a whisper. I clear my throat and try again, louder this time. "Is anyone there? Please, I need help!"

Silence is my only answer.

Desperation fuels me as I stumble towards the door. My fingers scrabble against the smooth surface, searching for a knob, a latch, anything. But there's nothing on this side.

A wave of dizziness forces me to pause, leaning against the wall for support. Once it passes, I turn my attention to the window. The wooden frame feels sturdy under my hands as I pull with all my might. It doesn't budge.

Frustration boils over. I ball my fists and scream, pouring all my anguish and fear into the sound. "Let me out!" I yell, my voice cracking. "You can't keep me here forever!"

But even as the words leave my mouth, I know it's not true. They can keep me here as long as they want. The real question is how long before they decide I'm no longer useful.

A sound at the door cuts off my scream. A small panel slides open, revealing a pair of icy blue eyes staring back at me.

"Shut up," a man's voice commands. "No more screaming."

I stumble back, heart racing. "Where am I?" I ask, hating how small and scared my voice sounds. "What do you want with me?"

The man's eyes narrow. "I said, no more screaming. Unless you want things to get worse."

His threat only fuels my defiance. I take a deep breath and let out an ear-piercing shriek, louder than before. If my noise bothers him, maybe it'll draw attention. Maybe someone will hear me.

He sighs heavily and slams the peephole shut.

There could be neighbors, passersby, anyone who might come to my rescue. I have to keep trying.

The door swings open with a bang, and I instantly fall silent. A man steps in - not one of the thugs from before. He's tall and muscular, covered in tattoos. Scars crisscross his chest and abs. Despite my fear, I can't help but notice how handsome he is, with chiseled features and those piercing blue eyes.

"I told you to stop screaming," he growls.

"Why should I?" I snap back, trying to mask my fear with bravado.

"Because if you don't, I'll gag you and tie you up. Your choice."

My stomach drops. "Who are you? What do you want with me?"

"Name's Enzo. And what I want is for you to shut up."

"Please," I beg, hating how desperate I sound. "I'm not involved in my father's business. Just let me go."

"Not happening, sweetheart. Now be quiet, or I'll make you quiet."

Enzo moves with startling speed, backing me against the wall. His body looms over mine, radiating heat and power.

"Listen up, Aura," he says, my name rolling off his tongue. "You're mine now. The sooner you accept that the easier this'll be."

"Nobody owns me," I spit out.

He leans in closer, his breath hot on my cheek. "I do. And you'd better get used to it."

I swallow hard, torn between hatred and a treacherous pull toward this dangerous man.

His rough hand, unexpectedly gentle, cups my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. I stiffen, but I don't pull away. His touch sends a shiver down my spine, sparking something within me that I can't identify. I can feel the heat radiating from his skin, and I hate how it affects me.

My breath hitches, caught somewhere between fear and a strange excitement. His fingers are calloused, the skin rough against my smooth cheek. I should be repulsed. I should be screaming, fighting, doing anything to get away from this man who's holding me captive. But instead, I find myself rooted to the spot, my pulse quickening under his touch.

I'm acutely aware of every point of contact between us - his hand on my chin, his body looming over mine, the heat of his breath against my skin. It's wrong, so wrong, but I can't deny the strange thrill that courses through me. It's as if my body is betraying me, reacting to Enzo in ways I can't control.

I hate Enzo, hate what he's done to me, what he represents. But there's something about him, something dangerous and exciting, that I can't ignore.

"You will submit," Enzo murmurs, his voice low and hypnotic. "You will learn."

All I can do is stare at him.

With one last lingering glance, Enzo releases my chin and steps back. He turns away, leaving the room without another word. The door slams shut behind him.

I collapse to the ground, my legs giving out from under me. I hate him and hate the arousal coursing through my veins. I'm disgusted with myself.

My pussy is dripping wet.

How can I want him, even a little, after everything he's done?

Frustration and self-loathing bubble up within me, and I curl up on the thin mattress, pulling my knees to my chest. Tears well up in my eyes, spilling over and streaking down my cheeks. I let them fall, let the sobs rack my body, let the despair consume me.

I cry until I can't anymore until my tears run dry and my body is wracked with exhaustion. I fall asleep there, on the floor, alone and broken.