36. Lucrezia
Chapter 36
Lucrezia
I ’m curled in the corner of this godforsaken room. My limbs ache; I’ve stopped trying to guess whether it’s morning or night. Time doesn’t matter anyway. What matters is staying strong.
When the door opens—no, when it’s flung open—I don’t flinch so much as brace myself. Kristopher steps in, and the overhead bulb highlights the lines on his face. He’s calm—always calm. That’s what makes it so terrifying. At least a man screaming and raging is honest about his violence. Kristopher’s brand of terror is silent. He doesn’t announce his intentions; he simply enacts them.
“Lucrezia,” he says, voice low but precise. He grips something in his fist—a thin scrap of black fabric. I blink twice, stomach twisting with revulsion when I realize it’s lingerie. A slip of lace so delicate I can see his fingertips through it.
He takes a slow step toward me, the corners of his mouth tilting up into something resembling a smile. “I found this, and it made me think of you. I thought you’d appreciate clothes. It’s a little chilly if you haven’t noticed.”
A hollow laugh escapes me—what the hell is there to appreciate about a lacy scrap of nothingness in the middle of this damp, moldy prison? I’d kill for some sweats right now, but that isn’t what he’s offering. “I won’t wear that.”
His eyes glimmer with something dark and satisfied. He extends the lingerie, letting the lace drape over his forearm. “You will,” he replies with a shrug. “It’s time you stop pretending you have a choice.”
My entire body seizes with rage. But I’m also hungry and exhausted. It’s been a week—maybe more—of withheld meals, stolen sips of water, and the relentless psychological horror of Kristopher’s meticulous brand of care. I want to scream at him, strike him, but my limbs feel like lead. I can’t let him see me falter, though, so I push off the wall, forcing myself to stand upright.
“Go to hell,” I say, my voice a whisper. “I’d rather die naked than let you dress me up like your own personal Barbie doll.”
His nostrils flare, but his features remain smooth. “You’d rather die?” His words drop quietly, venom under every syllable. “Don’t tempt me.”
He closes the gap between us in two swift strides and presses the lace against my chest. “Put. It. On.” He demands, voice still calm, but I sense tension knotting beneath his words.
I push at his hand. “Never.”
“Lucrezia,” he begins, more softly now. “I’m doing this for you. If you stopped fighting, you’d see I’m not your enemy. I’ve saved you from a world that never wanted you and never understood you. Don’t you see that I’m all you have?”
I clench my jaw, fury pulsing through my veins. “I don’t need you. And I’m not alone.”
A faint twitch shows at the corner of his eye. “Raiden, you mean? A brute who’s more muscles than brain?” Kristopher laughs sardonically. “Or perhaps Saverio? Do you trust your brother to come looking for you after what you did to him? Because I don’t. They’ve had their chance, my dear. And if they haven’t found you by now, they never will.”
He’s lying, or maybe he believes his own propaganda. Either way, it’s a knife in my gut, twisting and tearing at my insides. Because a small traitorous part of me wonders— what if he’s right? What if no one’s coming? What if I’m stuck here forever and forced to give in to Kristopher’s sick illusions?
I force the thought aside. “They’ll come,” I bite out, letting raw faith color my voice. “And they’ll tear you apart.”
He flinches—just the tiniest flicker of fear—before smoothing his features into a mask of indifference. “You think Raiden can handle me? He’s a savage dog on a short leash, Lucrezia.”
“I’ll take a loyal dog over a snake,” I retort. I’m trembling from adrenaline and hunger, but my hatred keeps me upright.
Kristopher exhales, disappointment heavy in the sound. “I see we’re at an impasse. Then let’s try a different approach.”
His hand snaps forward, faster than I expect, grabbing my arm. He drags me toward the battered mattress in the corner. My stomach flips at the intimacy, but I plant my feet, refusing to budge further. The lace he clutches dangles, mocking me. I wonder if he’d force it over my head.
I jerk my arm away, adrenaline spiking. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”
His fingers dig into my flesh, leaving bruises where they clamp. “You’re hurting yourself more than you’re hurting me. “If you’d just cooperate, none of this would be necessary.”
“You’re the one forcing it,” I hiss, my heart hammering in my chest. “You think dressing me up in lingerie will make me want you? You’re delusional.”
He stares at me, and for an instant, there’s a flicker of something raw in his eyes—hurt or longing, I can’t tell. Then he smooths it over, returning to that quiet, almost gentle menace. “I’m trying to keep you safe, Lucrezia. From them. From a world that never gave a damn about you. I’m offering you sanctuary. And you spurn it. You spurn me.”
“Sanctuary?” I choke out a laugh. “This is a dungeon. You’re not my savior, Kristopher; you’re my captor.”
His grip tightens, nails biting into my skin with a sharp sting. He leans in, his breath stirring the hair at my temple. “You’re just too blind to realize it. But I’ll open your eyes, eventually.”
I want to spit in his face, but my mouth is too dry. “You’re as bad as my father, maybe worse. You pretend this is kindness, but it’s just your form of control.”
He doesn’t deny it; he simply steps back. His eyes flick to the lingerie he holds, and he tosses it onto the mattress. “This is your chance to feel human again, to wear something besides that filthy blanket. Put it on, or you remain naked.”
I say nothing, focusing on my heartbeat.
“You’ll thank me eventually,” Kristopher adds, breath ghosting over my cheek with unwelcome warmth. Then he’s gone, leaving me seething in silence. But the moment’s respite is shattered immediately—an explosion of noise cracks from beyond the door—a crash, a shout, something heavy colliding with the cabin wall. My heart leaps into my throat. My first instinct is fear, but the energy feels more chaotic. I can’t tell what’s happening.
Then the door bursts open, but not to reveal Kristopher. No, this time, it’s a blur of movement, of multiple figures crowding the threshold—light floods the room—daylight, not the sickly bulb in the center of the room.
Raiden’s at the front, breathless, eyes wild. Saverio stands beside him, wearing an expression that’s half terror, half fury. Behind the two of them is Priest, a man I don’t recognize, and Dante Terlizzi’s little brother. For a split second, my mind can’t comprehend it. They’re here. They actually found me. Relief so profound it’s like a punch to the gut washes over me, and a sob chokes in my throat.
I’m naked, but I don’t care. My entire being sags with gratitude. Raiden’s face contorts with emotion when he sees me. “Lucrezia,” he breathes, and the sound is like hearing the voice of God.
But in that heartbeat, Kristopher lunges from behind the door, brandishing a knife or something—I can’t see clearly. Raiden reacts instantly. He rears back and slams his fist into Kristopher’s mouth with a brutal crunch. Blood splatters across the threshold, and Kristopher staggers, a tooth or two going flying. My heart lurches, excitement surging despite the horror, a savage pleasure at seeing him hurt for once. He’s not invincible, after all.
Raiden’s eyes burn with primal fury, and for the first time in days, I feel something beyond despair. Kristopher clutches his jaw, a wet, bloody gurgle escaping his lips. Saverio moves in a flash, seizing Kristopher’s arm and twisting it behind his back. Priest and the other guy slam him face-first onto the floor, guns drawn. Luciano stands at the doorway, scanning for other threats. It’s chaos, but it’s also the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in a week.
I scramble off the mattress, knees weak. My entire body shakes as I step toward them. Kristopher writhes under their collective hold, blood dripping from his mouth. Fury contorts his features, but he can’t do a damn thing. I can’t help the sudden surge of exhilaration—he’s pinned and powerless, the way he thought I’d be when he locked me in this prison.
“Lucrezia,” Raiden repeats, voice ragged. “Christ, I was—” He cuts off, swallowing hard. “We found you.” Raiden looks at me, eyes wet with relief. I see him devour my appearance, the bruises on my arms, the tremor in my hands from dehydration, the filth on my body. His expression flickers with guilt and fierce protectiveness.
Saverio tightens his grip on Kristopher’s wrist until he lets out a strangled yelp. Then my brother spares a glance at me—concern etched in his features. Of all the people I expected to come to save me, Saverio Castiglione and Luciano Terlizzi were not among them. “Are you hurt?” He asks.
I shake my head, tears finally spilling down my cheeks. “I’m fine,” I manage. “He tried—” My voice falters for some reason. I’ve been raped by my father’s men and beaten into submission by nuns. I can admit all of that without batting an eyelash. But admitting what Kristopher did to me feels impossible. “He tried to hurt me. He didn’t succeed,” I finally finish.
Saverio’s jaw clenches. “He will never hurt you again, Lucrezia.”
Luciano steps forward, removing his jacket. Quietly, without fanfare, he offers it to me, eyes averted in a show of respect. “Here,” he says softly. “Don’t let the bastard see more of you than he already has.”
A wave of gratitude washes over me as I slip my arms into the jacket, letting it drape over my naked torso. The cloth is warm, smelling faintly of cologne. My fingers curl into the sleeves, drawing them down past my wrists. It’s the first act of kindness I’ve felt in forever. “Thank you.”
Priest, who’s been keeping a gun trained on Kristopher’s head, flicks a glance my way. A ghost of a smile touches his lips, softening the hard edges of his face for just a moment. “Glad to see you’re alive, Lux. We weren’t sure what we’d find out here,” he adds, his voice carrying equal measures of relief and lingering concern.
Another wave of relief crashes over me. They came for me. I want to collapse into Raiden’s arms, let him hold me, and chase away the nightmare my life has become because of Kristopher. But I have business to attend to. Because as much as I wish I could let Raiden do my dirty work, I’ve never been that kind of girl.
I place a shaky hand on Raiden’s shoulder, and he steps aside, letting me face Kristopher properly. He knows, without question, what I need to do.
My heart thrums with savage satisfaction as I crouch down to get closer to eye level with my half-brother. “I want to make you feel the same fear you made me feel,” I say, the words surprising me with their raw intensity. But I need this closure, this small piece of revenge.
Saverio half-turns, eyebrows lifting. Something like approval flickers in his eyes. “He’s all yours, sorella ,” he says quietly.
I sense Raiden’s hesitation—he doesn’t want me near Kristopher again. But I also feel his pride in my defiance. He nods stiffly as if giving me permission to reclaim my power. I can almost taste his anger and concern, and the heat of his gaze sets my nerves alight.
I meet Kristopher’s eyes. No words pass my lips for a heartbeat. Then I raise my hand and slap him hard across the cheek, his head snapping to one side. It’s not enough to quell the storm in my heart, but it’s a start.
“You’ll regret this,” he growls. “I am the only one who cares about you.”
But I smile—cold and mirthless, like winter frost creeping across glass. “No, Kristopher,” I say, voice hard as steel and resolve twice as strong. “ You will regret this.”