6. Day 1 – Caterina
“Cat.”
Stefano’s voice flickers as I stare down into the dungeon. It looks exactly the same as yesterday. Cages still line the walls, barren and brutal in their stark, steel creation.
But they’re empty.
“Where are they?”
My voice cracks on the words. “The girls. Where are they?”
He hesitates. “Some will be… working. Others in training. It rotates, until they’re moved.”
Moved.
Sold.
“I see.”
Stefano’s voice is gruff. “We need to go down. Cecile will be expecting us.”
I can’t force my feet to move. My throat burns, my eyes prickling as I stare into that empty room. Stefano moves around me, stepping down and turning to look into my face.
“Why do you do it?”
He blinks as if my question has taken him by surprise. But he doesn’t reply, instead giving me a question of his own. “Why did you come back? Last night. You’d gone. You could have run.”
My heart hurts. “They have something that belongs to me.”
He slides his hands into his pockets, considering my words. “They have something that belongs to me, too.”
Shared understanding between us, at the bottom of those steps. His dark eyes are level with mine, our height equal as I stand on the step above him.
I scan his face, searching. There’s pain there, flickering in the dark. He glances over his shoulder. “Cecile will be here any moment.”
They have something that belongs to me too.
Something that keeps him here.
I look over his shoulder, at those empty cages.
“Lead the way, then.” My voice is heavy, Subdued. “I have a busy day ahead, it seems.”
But it’s Stefano who hesitates this time. “Keep your head down today. The more you talk back, the worse it is. And don’t talk to anyone. They don’t like that.”
I give him an incredulous look, and his lips thin as he turns away. “It can always get worse. Remember that. And Cecile will make this as difficult for you as possible.”
He leads me past the cages, and I keep my eyes on his back.
Frown.
“Why are you limping?”
Now he looks irritated, a scowl on his face as he glances back. “I’m not limping.”
I study his gait, noting the sudden stiffness in his back. And his shirt… it looks wet. He jerks when I lean forward to press it with my fingers. “The fuck are you doing?”
But I’m staring down at the scarlet smear on my skin.
“Leave it.” Ice cold words. I’ve pissed him off.
“But—,”
“Leave it alone,” he snaps the words, coming to a stop. “Jesus fucking Christ, Corvo. You have bigger issues to focus on.”
I’d rather think of anything else than what’s waiting for me up ahead.
Folding my arms, I watch as he continues on, thoughts whirling.
Definitely limping, even though he’s trying to hide it.
What will he do to you? For sending them?
Nothing. I’m his heir, after all.
I’m starting to build up a clearer picture of Stefano Asante. His face is tight as he stops outside a door. “Leave your attitude here, Cat. Please. No matter what you see.”
He sounds… almost desperate.
But I’m also not a fool. So I nod, bracing myself.
“There you are.”
Cecile clicks her fingers as we walk in. Stefano’s hand is back, gripping my upper arm as he steers me to the end of the line of kneeling women. Guards are fucking everywhere in this room, watching from every wall as Cecile strolls up and down.
She pauses in front of me. “Clothes off.”
Stefano shifts behind me, his words terse. “She doesn’t need to be classified. She’s not product.”
Cecile smiles with red, glistening lips. “Are you interfering with my training, Stefano?”
Before he can respond, I drag the dress over my head, crumpling it in my hands before I toss it aside. I wasn’t given any underwear this morning. Shrugging, I raise my eyebrows at her. “I hated that fucking dress. You have truly shitty taste in clothes, Cecile.”
She eyes me. Stefano inhales behind me.
When she leans forward, I brace. Waiting for the slap, or punch.
But it’s not me she hits.
The dark-haired girl beside me curls over with a choked sob, clutching her face, and I take a step forward, my face twisting in anger. “What the fuck—,”
Guns point at me from every direction. Stefano yanks me back into the line, his hand pushing me down onto my knees with harsh strength. “Shut up.”
My fists are clenched, my breathing heavy as the soft sobbing continues next to me. Cecile crouches down, meeting my eyes.
“Do you know why I’m so very good at what I do, Caterina?”
I let the hate fill my eyes as I stare at her. She only tilts her head with a smile. “Because I work out what makes people obedient. How to get the most out of our product. And you – I’ve met others like you. You’re nothing special. And I will train you, just as well as I trained every other bitch with a big mouth who walked through my doors.”
She stands, clicking her fingers. The girl next to me lets out a terrified cry as the guards push her forward, and I jolt, reaching for her as spots dance in front of my eyes.
Panic that turns to fear, ice cold fear inside my chest as they press a gun to the back of her head. No—
I yank my hands back and stay completely still, my head leaning forward, and Cecile clicks her tongue. “That’s better. You breathe wrong, and she’ll be the one who pays for it.”
The girl is hauled back into line next to me. Shaking, she assumes the same position as everyone else.
Breathing heavily, I quickly scan the line before copying their movement, my heart thudding inside my chest.
The panic doesn’t recede. It stays exactly where it is as we’re lined up, measured and poked and prodded. Cameras flash as they push me to face forward, side, turn, again.
We’re taught to smile. To act pretty. Perfect.
We’re taught other things, too. Things that make nausea surge in my stomach as Cecile pulls everyone up to demonstrate that they understand.
When her eyes land on me, they move to Stefano. And move on.
All the while, I feel his gaze on my bare back.
The soup they pass out for lunch is barely lukewarm, but the girls around me drink it from the metal cups as if they haven’t been fed for days. Stefano gives me a nod when I give him a questioning glance. He stands silently at the back of the room, not speaking to anyone else.
We sit quietly, Cecile talking to one of the guards in the far corner.
I risk a glance at the girl next to me, the one that Cecile has been holding over my head all day. She stares into her empty cup as she carefully sets it down, her shoulders hunching in as she looks to where the guards talk, their eyes leering as they scan our group.
My hands are faster.
I lift my now-empty cup to my lips and feign a sip, waiting for the girl to notice the full one beside her. Blue eyes flick to the empty cup in my hands, and her fingers tremble as she reaches for the full one.
I almost miss the soft whisper. “Thank you.”
My chest constricts.
What will happen to her?
“I’m sorry,” I breathe, staring ahead. “I’m so sorry.”
A hand brushes against mine as the guards focus again.
When the day is finally over, I stay where I am until the last girl is herded out by Cecile, the door closing behind them. The guards follow, and the excitement in their hissed voices is enough to tell me what’s going to happen now. “They’re going to the other room.”
“Yes.”
A pause, and then Stefano settles down next to me, lifting up his knees and resting his elbows on them. Crumpled pink material appears under my nose.
I am not grateful for clothes.
Clothes are a basic fucking human right.
I chant the thought as I tug it over my head, wrapping my arms around myself. “You were right.”
I nearly got that girl killed with my mouth.
He doesn’t say anything for a minute. “This place will change you. Twist you into something new, if you let it. Don’t let that happen.”
“I’ll be gone before that happens.” But my voice… it lacks the conviction I had only last night.
And Stefano looks at me, his eyes heavy. “I said the same thing once. My uncle made sure it would never happen.”
I cast him a curious look. “I always thought he was your father.”
He half-shrugs. “Salvatore knows I hate the comparison, so he finds it amusing to let others think that. He doesn’t have any children of his own.”
He looks as if he wants to take the words back the moment they’re out of his mouth. The final, unspoken word hangs heavily in the air between us, and I swallow that fear down.
Yet.
I rapidly change the subject. “Where are your parents?”
It’s… the wrong subject. “We should go.”
Stefano stands abruptly, and I blink at the coolness in his tone as he offers me a hand. When I scramble to my feet on my own, he pulls it back, fingers curling over.
Avoiding his eyes, I clear my throat. My skin feels… oily. Filthy. “I’d kill for a shower, if I’m allowed.”
“You can have one before dinner.” He ignores my snarky tone as he checks his watch. “Cecile should have had your closet filled by now.”
Wonderful.
“And you’re coming to dinner?”
He pauses, hesitation flickering across his face. “I actually need to go to campus. Get some things out of my apartment, if I’m going to be here. So… no. Not tonight.”
Leaving me alone.
With my husband. And probably Cecile.
I wrap my arms back around myself. In that moment, I miss the men I left behind so fucking much that a burning pain erupts behind my eyes.
I don’t even know if Luc is alive.
We left so much unresolved – I left them, left Dom, Gio and Dante in front of a burning house, and now—
The burning spreads into my throat, threatening to cut off my air. I’ve spent all day trying so hard not to think of them, that now I can’t think of anything else.
And the despair threatens to buckle me.
I don’t know if I can do this.
Swallowing around the agony searing my throat, I force a reply to Stefano, who’s watching me with his brows dipped.
“Of course.” I duck past him, moving to the door. He follows me, dogging my footsteps. “Do whatever you have to.”
He is not my ally. He is my guard in this hellhole of a prison.
“Cat.”
I pick up the pace, walking toward the steps that lead up to the main house. The room of cages in front of me blurs. There’s wet on my cheeks, and I brush it away.
I am stronger than this.
The sounds from the room next door drift through, and my feet pick up speed on those steps until I’m almost running, as if I might be able to outrun the grunts, the slapping of flesh.
He catches me as I reach the door, his arms caging me as he turns me around.
“Let me go.” My nails claw into his arms. I can’t breathe, the fear closing around my airway in a tight grip that makes dark spots float across my vision.
I can’t breathe.