Chapter 18 Serafina
SERAFINA
“Fuck, I’ve missed you.” Amara snatches me into her arms. “Family drama sucks.”
“You never said what happened.” It’s strange to disappear for a week and make hardly any comment on it. Life with Zeno and Nero taught me how people act when they’re lying, and while I don’t want to accuse my best friend of anything, the knot tying up my stomach is difficult to ignore.
She rolls her eyes. “Honestly, not even worth talking about. My padre being my padre. Definitely not a topic for tonight.” She twists to glance behind us, spotting Lev. “Your stalker’s joining us.”
“Mhm.” There’s no response I can dignify her comment with, because if I do, Amara might pick up on the fact that it’s not irritation I’m feeling over Lev’s presence.
She gazes at him for a long second, eyes narrowing, but when I brush the back of her hand, turning towards the direction we need to walk, she breaks from her daze and follows. “So, now that it’s been a few days, how do you feel?”
Even though she hasn’t been here, we texted a lot about what happened with Alessio. She’s been supportive, although she believes punching him would have been a better ending.
If only.
“I don’t miss him. Guess I always knew we were never long-term.
He was fun, but looking back, we should never have gotten together.
” That’s the gentle version of my feelings.
“He didn’t respect my boundaries, so fuck him.
Deep down, I always sensed something off, and that’s why he never felt right. ”
She slips her arm between mine and pulls me close. “Intuition. You made the right choice.”
Except it was made too late.
We switch to lighter topics—no family or boyfriends—as we head off school property. People loiter on the street between here and the party. We pass a group of guys throwing a ball in the middle of the street, completely neglecting cars that honk to get out of the way.
Lev remains somewhere behind me. His gaze is heavy, reminding me of earlier, when I left my room, only to be met with the longest bout of silence. Considering how stoic Lev is, it shouldn’t have been surprising, but it unnerved me.
The house is about half the size as the Mancini villa, only more structured, with brick walls and less openness. It sits on a decent sized plot of land, especially given the neighbourhood.
People are sprawled all over the lawn, some lying on their backs, some sitting in circles, each holding a red cup or beer bottle. Music travels from the house, and shouting seems to be the volume of the night.
Amara leads me up the stairs, where more people are draped, and through the wall of bodies barricading the propped-open front doors.
“How the hell haven’t cops been called yet?” I yell over the shouting and intense music. My eyes dart around, my spine prickling with…something. Something that makes me wish I didn’t agree to this, especially given recent events.
Amara only giggles and shrugs.
Right before the crowd sucks me up, I glance over my shoulder for Lev.
He’s closer than expected, having caught up at some point.
He stares at me, his thoughts remaining unvoiced before he shifts his attention to the house.
The university student guise he’s been wearing slips off, the Bratva soldier replacing it.
He straightens, his body becoming larger as he shoulders through people, and his expression falls more blank than ever seen.
It does feel better with him around. In a place filled with chaos, he represents the calm.
Amara links her hand with mine and propels me down the packed hallway, but before making it even two paces, a soft touch lands on my lower back.
My dress seems to melt beneath the flame of Lev’s gentle reassurance—his hand briefly pressing into me before the crowd separates us, and he becomes my silent, untouchable bodyguard once more.
Amara pulls me into the kitchen and through an insane amount of people that has me missing my dorm. In so many ways, this reminds me of my old school, of the facade I put on. The untouchable Serafina Mancini who rarely took a night off from being social.
Why was this a good idea? The commotion is impossible to make sense of.
People shout at one another. Drinks are being handed out. Music thumps so loud, my insides vibrate. The back doors reveal more people spilling into the backyard, and the distinct clouds of smoke wafting in suggest a few different kinds.
I try to take it all in, because this is life. Vibrancy. This is what I should be enjoying. The connections forged with students who’ll be around for the next few years and perhaps into the future.
Amara points to a group of girls nearby before releasing me and slipping away.
People step between us until she disappears from view.
I shove between them, her name on my tongue, when a large hand encompasses my elbow and yanks me backwards instead.
Lev, presumably—until a tangier scent hits my nostrils, burning through the acrid smoke drifting from the outdoors.
I turn, clashing with the dark, angry eyes of Alessio.
“How’d you know I’d be here?”
“I want to talk.” He holds his hands up, palms out, as though to indicate he’s safe. Except safe isn’t trying to assault your girlfriend. “To clear the air on a few things.”
“Not happening.” I glance towards where Amara disappeared, jaw grinding that she dragged me here and then abandoned me. She knows the old version of me wasn’t real, that I don’t really enjoy parties like she does.
Then, I sweep the room for Lev, realizing he’d get Alessio to leave me alone, but I don’t spot him either. Even lifting onto my toes is useless.
Alessio moves into me, his chest rumbling with his low words. “Please, Sera. I miss you. The other day was bad, and I regret it. My family has me under so much stress, you have no idea.”
His eyes soften, his blink slow. While I understand familial stress making a person act out of character, what he did is no exception. There is no rationalizing his choices.
“I don’t care. You fucked up. We’re over.”
He reaches over to swipe two red cups freshly poured from the counter and hands me one. “Look, five minutes. That’s all I need, and if you still want nothing to do with me, I’ll respect that.”
I stare at him and then into the cup of pink liquid. Five minutes isn’t much. Five minutes to end the phone calls seems worth it.
I lift to my toes to once again seek out Amara, but she’s disappeared. Frustration, anger, and even a bit of defeat has me sighing before gesturing for Alessio to lead the way. I’ll deal with him, and then I’ll search for her.
As we push through the crowd, I scan for Lev. Maybe he’s blending in, leaving me alone, as he’s supposed to. Around but not hovering. Still… A new instinct has me wanting to find him, to signal where I’m going, and more importantly, with whom.
In a moment of space, I sip the drink. It tastes like strawberries tainted with too much vodka.
Alessio leads me up the wide staircase, weaving between people. At the top, he turns for the attached hallway, somehow knowing where to go. He stops by the third door and pushes it open, causing the couple in there to jump.
“Get the fuck out.” The authority of his demand actually works, and the two scramble for their clothes before rushing out of the room, slamming the door shut. It’s quieter than the rest of the house, the door dulling the noise.
Alessio wanders to the other side of the room, hovering by the window, while I remain by the door, my grip tight around the red cup before taking another drink.
“Come sit.”
For some reason, I listen to him, slowly crossing the room until shuffling onto the bed covered in a thick, navy-blue comforter. I wonder whose room this is.
Another sip as my gaze re-centres on my ex, requiring alcohol more than ever to get through these five minutes. He lowers his cup on the windowsill and crosses his arms, regarding me silently.
“So,” I prompt between sips. “Your five minutes is ticking away. Start talking.”
“My family”—he rubs a hand over his hair—“puts a lot of pressure on me. You were my break from it all. Our date was meant to get me away; I only wanted to relax. To feel something other than anger.”
The cup is already half empty. Did I really drink that much?
As I lower it, my vision wobbles until even resting the cup on my knee requires real effort, like my limbs are too heavy.
With a squeeze of my eyes, I refocus on Alessio, but the brief closure makes me realize how the liquor is already hitting me… for some reason.
I’m not the greatest drinker, but nothing this immediate typically. My breaths start coming faster, my mind running through all the possibilities—but unable to focus on any.
“I get it,” I finally reply. “But that didn’t give you the right to do what you did.”
My throat feels thick, so I drink again. My arms are weighted. My body melts into the bed. This alcohol is acting quickly. Too quick. I blink three times to keep him in view, to finish this conversation.
Something’s wrong.
“You shouldn’t have…” What was I saying?
I go to rest the cup onto the bedside table but miss my mark by a few inches, and it falls to the floor, my body thumping onto the mattress.
“Whoa.” My hands press into the bed to right myself. “Something isn’t…right.”
It’s wrong, very wrong. My breaths are heavier with the definite realization, but nothing makes sense anymore.
Alessio crosses the room, lowering himself on one knee in front of me. He grabs my chin to focus my gaze on him—which is good, because I’m unable to do it myself. He straightens me, smiling wide and a bit wolfish. I never liked his smile. It’s not like Lev’s.
Stay. Focused. My thoughts continue drifting. I shake my head, which ends up being a bad idea, as everything gets blurry. My heart thumps so loud, I think I hear it. Instincts are flashing alarms at me, but my body is too weighted to properly pay attention.
“I…I don’t feel good.” Blindly reaching, I go for his hand to stand. At least, I think that’s what happens, because I’m not moving.
Or is he keeping me down?
“I know,” he murmurs, his voice wrapping around my neck like a snake about to strike. “Ride it out. Let yourself feel so this hurts less.”
Ride it out…feel…hurts less.
“You-you drugged me.” Shit, fuck…I knew something was wrong. I need to get out of here. Panic claws at my throat, but he’s on me—he’s everywhere.
“Yes.” He ducks around my hand, his head diving for my neck. “You’re mine, so we need to make sure the world knows it too. That the deal can’t be contested.”
“Deal?” His lips skate up my neck; way too slimy, but my arms feel too heavy to lift and shove him. “I-I don’t…know what deal you’re…talking about.”
His teeth drag along the column of my neck as he whispers something I can’t make out before his hands come down on my shoulders and he pushes me down.
“N-no!”
My back touches the bed, my head on the pillow, making everything worse.
Already, lifting any limb feels impossible, but being flat on my back robs me of my remaining energy.
My leg kicks out but misses entirely, and Alessio grabs the top of my dress and yanks the two edges apart to my breasts, a loud rip breaking through my drug-induced fog.
It does more than shatter the haze, though. My phone tumbles from its temporary spot in my bra and onto the bed beside my hand.
Both drive through the alcohol and drugs, and I roll to the side, managing—somehow—to shove him off me.
I need to get the fuck out of here.
Alessio’s on me instantly, grabbing my hips to prevent my pathetic crawl, and I yell, hoping—praying—anyone will overhear. It feels like a useless waste of my voice, of the little energy I cling to.
“You’re not going anywhere, not until I get inside your virgin pussy and claim it for myself.”
A sob breaks as he flips me onto my back. He tears my bra before attacking my thighs, shoving up the bottom half of my dress. I kick him, but he’s quick to pin my leg with his free hand, my other with his body.
Lev.
Zeno was right about adding him as an emergency contact, though I doubt he pictured this being the reason.
While Alessio is focused on undoing his belt, I press the phone’s side button, praying my strength holds long enough to manage at least this much. The emergency call screen flashes at the same time Alessio finishes with his belt.
I tap the first name before he has a chance to smack the phone away and drag me towards him.