SUN #4
Then Anzo extends one finger, curling it in a slow, beckoning gesture.
No. Fuck no. Like hell I’m going to—
Rocco’s hand presses against my back. The force increases. When I resist, his fingers go back to the collar. I know what’s coming if I don’t move.
So, humiliated and furious, I crawl toward Anzo on my knees. When I reach his feet, he leans forward slightly, his face still calm.
"Look at you. What a cute pet. But a naughty one."
And then—
I don’t even see it. He moves so fast, it’s inhuman. A single strike to my face, hard enough to make me reel and crash sideways onto the seat.
My first silly thought? I’m gonna have a nasty bruise.
I remember from reading the Truth Only I Know blog that Anzo has a cybernetic arm. Now I know it firsthand, and yeah, it hurts like hell.
"You fucking bastard," I growl, lifting my head even though the whole world’s spinning.
Then I do something really damn stupid.
I spit. Right in his face.
For a split second, nothing.
And then it kicks in. A bolt of agony tears through me. My body’s convulsing so hard, my spine bows into a backward C. The collar! It’s electrocuting me!
I lose track of time. Of pain. Of everything. All I know is that Rocco grabs my hair and shoves my face to the floor.
"Not the face," Anzo’s voice says calmly, like it’s coming through thick soundproof glass.
A bit too late, asshole. You ruined it yourself! I want to growl back, but I can’t. My throat is squeezed.
Then Rocco kicks me. Ribs. I scream. Another kick. Hip. Another. Chest.
But the worst part is the silence. Not a single word, not a shout, not even loud breathing. Just that cold, controlled violence that lets you know they’re not angry.
They’re just doing a job they know too well.
I curl up to shield my stomach, but no more blows come.
Just quiet.
I feel the limo start to move. Its engine doesn’t hum nicely like a bike; it’s different, just vibrations, and I shiver along with it.
And that’s when I know. Everything’s changed.
My whole life just turned inside out.
Weirdly, I think of something Martin said today, that I didn’t know how to appreciate a boring life. That I kept chasing excitement.
Well, fuck me. I never meant for that void to be filled with searing pain.
Guess some lessons you have to learn the hard way.
The only mercy? I pass out soon after.
***
When I wake up, I’m lying on my back on a bed, a nice one, with a velvet cover.
There are paintings on the walls. Peaceful countryside scenes. Some Mediterranean landscapes.
There are elegant wardrobes and antique-looking dressers.
Sunlight streams through the window. I’m alone.
For a second, I have no idea where I am, but it quickly finds me. I lift a hand to my neck.
The metal collar’s still there.
Fuck!
Despite my best efforts, I can’t get it off me. So I sit down, glancing around for something I can use as a tool.
But the second I move, a wave of pain hits my ribs. Are they broken? Just bruised? I have no idea. I try to take a deeper breath, and thank God, it doesn’t hurt. So maybe it’s just bruising.
Slowly, I glance to the right and down. My hip hurts too. I pull my pants down a little and see a red-purple bruise blooming on my hipbone.
"Bastards," I mutter under my breath.
I slide off the bed and stand up, feeling the room spin slightly.
First thing I do is walk over to the window… and I freeze. Because what I see stuns the hell out of me.
This has to be inside The Sun Fortress.
The window overlooks a massive circular courtyard. But it’s not just a small atrium like in some Roman villa. No. It’s a real, full-scale, carefully maintained garden, surrounded on all sides by the fortress walls. Lines of windows overlook it.
Someone built this place in the shape of a circle-slash-octagon. And right in the middle, they designed a perfectly groomed, enclosed garden. My eyes quickly land on a tall man using a handheld trimmer, cutting the grass at the edge of one of the walkways.
My first instinct is to open the window, but I immediately realize it doesn’t even have a handle. It’s the kind of sealed corporate window you can’t open. The AC hums softly in the background. So I can’t even yell to the gardener for help.
"Fuck," I groan, slapping the glass. I beat my fists against it, but the window’s thick and solid. I’d need something heavy to break it, and if I did, the noise would definitely draw attention. The wrong kind. And where would I even escape to? The inner courtyard seems completely closed off.
Anyway, my pounding doesn't get the gardener’s attention. He’s wearing soundproof earmuffs to block the trimmer’s engine noise, but someone else does notice.
The door opens, and an older beta steps inside, holding a tray.
I rush toward him, but after just two steps, I spot another guy standing in the doorway. I recognize him. He’s one of the thugs who dragged me into the car back in the parking lot.
The beta sets the tray down on a small table by the wall. His expression is calm, indifferent, like nothing’s weird about this situation. Like he isn’t just serving water and a sandwich to a kidnapped eighteen-year-old.
I freeze, torn between saying something or staying silent. But I already know, whatever I say, this beta won’t answer. That’s one. And two, he’s not going to help me get out of here. His body language is way too neutral. He’s not getting involved in something that could cost him his life.
So I turn my eyes to the guy at the door. In my head, I’ve already labeled him the guard, though more likely, he’s just one of Anzo’s soldati .
"How long do you plan to keep me here? I want to talk to Anzo!"
Silence. Complete fucking silence.
The older beta walks out. The door shuts behind him. I leap for it and yank the handle. Nothing, of course. I hear footsteps fading, and I’m alone again.
I go back to the window, cursing under my breath, caught between rage and despair. No way around it. I’ve been kidnapped. Kidnapped! Like in a movie. What the hell kind of nightmare is this?
The gardener keeps trimming the grass at the edges of the paths.
I decide to wait until he’s done mowing.
Maybe then I’ll try knocking on the glass again.
But the more I think about it, the more I realize how pointless that is.
He probably works for Ferro, just like the beta who brought me the tray.
He wouldn’t care about someone yelling for help.
Maybe he’s heard it before and did nothing. I mean, who wants to piss off a capo?
Nobody. Except apparently me.
What do I do now? My brain’s running at full throttle.
Wait, my phone. Of course!
I instantly check every pocket I’ve got, but yeah. It’s gone.
My own stupidity shocks me. I’m not dealing with some amateur. He knows exactly how this works.
After all, his first husband disappeared. Maybe he pissed off Anzo by banging on the glass and yelling for gardeners to help?
I let out a bitter laugh. Gosh, I’m already going insane.
Seriously. I need to pull myself together. A guy like Anzo wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of anyone he sees as useless. The more I resist, the louder I scream, the more inconvenient I become.
I once read a story about an omega who was kidnapped by some psycho. Right from the start, he made a huge effort to gain the guy’s trust, to charm him. He stayed consistent for weeks. And eventually, the psycho trusted him, and that’s when the omega escaped.
I know I’m no match for Anzo or his resources. He could kill me here and no one would ever find out. And it wouldn’t even faze him.
Acting like some rebellious, pissed-off teen would just earn me more bruises.
I have to think smart. And that’s not easy, because I’m furious. I’ve always been the rebellious one in our family. But I’ll have to make that effort.
Whatever he expects from me, I’ll have to try to do it. Shit.
I bite into the sandwich, drink some water, and walk back to the window.
The gardener’s still working, now using a knife to dig out weeds growing between the pavement stones. At one point, he lifts his head, and I swear, he glances up at me. But then he looks away, almost immediately.
I sigh and leave the window, walking back to the bed and lying down.
My strength is fading as I stare at the ceiling, thinking about…
My dad.
Yep, him.
Thinking about how he wanted to hug me, and how I pulled away.
He said he loved me. And I stayed silent.
Fuck. Will I ever see him again? Will I ever see my siblings? I have seven older brothers. We aren’t super close, I was always the independence-oriented one in our family. But still… the thought that I might never see any of them again makes my stomach twist.
Well, I did this to myself. I’m the one who made sure no one would worry about me. I told my dad not to visit without warning. I broke up with Martin. I ignored my bandmates’ invitations to the farewell party. I even told my manager I was just taking a little vacation.
Perfect. I’ve set myself up for a few solid weeks where no one, not even a damn stray dog, will check on me, let alone care.
On top of that, I don’t have close friends. Especially not now, caught in this in-between stage of life, just starting college. Nobody there knows me.
The worst part? The classes I signed up for aren’t even required. They’re just electives. So whether I show up or not, none of the professors will care, and they sure as hell won’t call my family. This situation is truly fucked.
My body’s stiff and sore as I lie there and the time passes. I’ll admit, during a few moments I’ve had to fight back tears. Sometimes I think, if I hadn’t gotten so fixated on the pain after breaking up with Dogger, things would’ve turned out differently.
It was all just one domino after another falling over, dragging me down into a pit of reckless behavior and bad decisions. And now? I’m reaping the harvest.
That fucker Martin already said it: in the end, I was the one who chose not to heal. I could’ve gone after something real, something that would make me happy.