Chapter 4

　　Elisa's POV

　　The world had fractured in the space of a single gunshot. One moment, I was bracing myself against Romano, the enemy I was sent to eliminate.

　　The next, my own father lay dead, the echo of the bullet that ended his life still ringing in my ears, fired by the very man I'd targeted.

　　Rage, a slow-burning ember, began to ignite within the icy shock of grief that I felt, it wasn't solely directed at Romano, not yet. It was a white-hot fury aimed at the man who had given me life, only to so readily discard it.

　　Everything blurred around me as I was dragged from the Bianchi villa, the iron grip of Antonio's men was unyielding, their hands bruising my arms as they shoved me into a waiting black SUV.

　　"Let go of me," I finally managed, my voice hoarse and trembling, though more from the emotional impact than any physical struggle. One of the guards grunted, tightening his grip. "Silence.."

　　Pietro was dead, I should have felt something, maybe grief or anger, anything at all. But all I could think about was Antonio's words, looping over and over in my head.

　　"He never really cared about you." What the hell did that mean?

　　The car lurched forward, speeding through the darkened streets of Naples, I kept my breathing steady, my mind racing for an escape. The men flanking me were trained killers, but they weren't invincible, if I could just… "Don't."

　　Antonio's voice came from the passenger seat, calm and assured, he didn't even bother turning around, "Don't even think about it." he said.

　　I gritted my teeth, he was watching me in the reflection of the rearview mirror, those cold, calculating eyes seeing too much.

　　I forced myself to lean back, muscles tense, he wasn't going to let me go, not now, maybe not ever.

　　The drive stretched into hours, the city lights faded, giving way to the endless black of the open road. I didn't speak, neither did Antonio.

　　By the time we reached the coast, the sun was beginning to rise, casting a pale glow over the water.

　　The sight of the sleek boat waiting at the dock sent a fresh wave of dread through me, I was being taken away, further into Romano's grasp.

　　The journey across the dark water was a blur of churning waves and a growing sense of hopelessness, the thrumming of the engine was like a soundtrack to my despair.

　　Dawn painted the sky in hues of orange and pink as we reached land, and I saw the rugged beauty of the coastline. It felt like it was mocking me, a stark contrast to the ugliness of my situation.

　　This was Sicily, Antonio was taking me to his home turf.

　　I swallowed hard, I had spent my life preparing to kill this man, but I had never considered what would happen if I failed. Now I know.

　　The Romano estate loomed like a fortress against the Sicilian cliffs, high walls, guarded gates, and a sprawling compound that whispered of wealth and power.

　　As we entered, the scent of salt and citrus filled the air, but it did nothing to mask the suffocating presence of my new prison.

　　Antonio led the way, his stride purposeful, his men followed, forcing me along.

　　Inside, the halls were grand, lined with ancient paintings and marble floors polished to perfection. It was beautiful, but there was no warmth here, no life, this was a reflection of its owner.

　　Antonio stopped in front of a heavy iron door at the end of a long corridor, he turned, finally looking at me. "You can walk in, or they can drag you in," he simply said.

　　I held his gaze, my voice sharp. "Go to hell."

　　His lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Been there, didn't care for it, but maybe you'll like it."

　　Then he nodded, and the guards shoved me inside, the door slammed shut behind me, the sound echoing off the cold stone walls.

　　I spun around, my hands immediately reaching for the handle, it was locked.

　　I took in my surroundings; it was small, dimly lit by a single bulb overhead, a cot against one wall, a metal door leading to what I assumed was a bathroom, and an empty tray on the floor, mocking me.

　　A dungeon, they had thrown me in a goddamn dungeon.

　　My chest heaved, the weight of everything crashing over me, Pietro was gone, the only life I had known was over. And now, I was trapped in the heart of the enemy territory, completely alone.

　　No, I wouldn't break. I wouldn't let Antonio Romano see me as a weak girl, I pressed my palms against the cold stone wall, sucking in deep breaths, trying not to panic, I needed to think, to plan.

　　But all I could hear was his voice. "He never really cared about you." I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my skin. Antonio knew something, and I would make him tell me.

　　I threw my head back and screamed his name, the sound raw and furious, cutting through the silence of the dungeon. "Antonio Romano!"

　　No answer, no footsteps, just silence.

　　I sank to the cot, my breath coming in ragged bursts of tears streaming down my face. Fine, he wanted to break me, he would have to try really hard.