SUN #11
Maybe he learned it too? Perhaps he chose the gardening gig over a daily shot of adrenaline. For the first time, I get it. Peace over pain. That’s what this all boils down to.
At 9 am, Matteo shows up to take me to breakfast. This weird ritual of eating together still makes no sense to me. I don’t get what it’s supposed to prove, or what kind of ‘bond’—maybe a twisted one—it’s meant to build in this psycho family. But Anzo insists on it.
When I walk into the dining room, for once I’m not the last to arrive.
Rocco and Luca come in just after. None of them look at me.
I’m just this awkward presence at the table, living proof of how completely fucked up Anzo is.
But maybe they don’t need reminding anymore?
Maybe their whole lives are proof enough.
And if they’re still here, if none of them have run, then I guess they’ve found a way to live with it.
The moment I step around the table to take my seat, Anzo lifts his head and says,
"Not today, pet. You were misbehaving, so you need to earn your place at the table before you’re allowed to return."
He gestures to the two beta servers.
One of them knows what to do. He places my plate… on the ground next to the table.
I stare at it for a moment.
Nobody makes a move. Nobody even flinches.
Is this normal here too?
Well, I have two options.
First: More pain.
Second: Less pain.
I choose the latter and get on my knees.
At the same time, I glance at Summer. He looks the same as yesterday, head down, silent. The only difference I notice is a faint bruise on the side of his neck. Finger pressure? Could be anything. A hickey, maybe. Or a blood-tinged scratch.
Well, abuse is just a normal part of daily life here.
There’s one thing I can’t complain about: the food. Even if I have to eat it from the floor, it’s still good Italian cuisine. I can eat as much as I want, and it’s delicious. But what the hell does that matter in the face of everything else going on around me?
Even pigs get fattened up before they’re slaughtered, right?
Like a good pet, I lick the plate with deliberate movements of my tongue and catch Anzo’s gaze while I do it. I even make a few naughty, swirling moves around the thickest grissini I can find. For Anzo’s eyes.
Nope, still not being flirty. It’s just survival mode.
After breakfast, I’m taken back to my room again.
There’s nothing for me to do but stare out the window at the gardener. It’s kind of calming, in a weird way. I watch his body, those muscles, the smooth way he moves despite his size. What a specimen.
If I weren’t a tormented prisoner of some psycho, maybe I’d go talk to him. Or jerk off imagining that body pinning me to a mattress.
But obviously, the level of stress I’m under kills any possibility of that.
Sometime after 11 am, Matteo shows up.
He’s carrying a tablet. He stops next to me and angles it so I can see, and…
It’s my old dorm room. The inside.
"We’ve installed cameras. We’ll see and hear everything," he says.
His voice is flat, like some government clerk. I don’t add anything. What would I even say? He’s just another one of Anzo’s errand boys.
Soldati are known for being loyal to their capo. None of them would risk anything for some random guy they probably see as a slut.
Half an hour later, I’m taken to lunch. But to my surprise, Anzo and Rocco aren’t there.
It’s just Luca, Eliano, and Mauro. And, of course, Summer.
The seat next to Rocco’s is still empty, so maybe there’s someone else who usually joins them but hasn’t shown up yet.
This time, I’m allowed to sit at the table again, or maybe nobody cares to enforce Anzo’s punishment. No idea, but I enjoy the seat while I can.
The entire meal passes in complete silence.
Eliano keeps glancing at his phone, something he never did when Anzo was around.
Mauro, as usual, stares at his plate like it’s the only thing that exists. Doesn’t say a word. Is he autistic or something?
Summer’s the same. Just… quiet.
Is this what ‘broken’ looks like? Silence. Hopelessness. Numbness.
Is this going to be me too? Or maybe I already look like that.
After lunch, I’m sent back to my room for a while.
I pace, restless, checking the window now and then.
The gardener is still there, trimming the bushes. He’s meticulous, each leaf shaped with perfect precision. Cubes, spheres, clean angles. Like some green sculpture garden.
I stare again. He’s probably around the same size as Luca. Could he be a purple alpha too? They’re rare. 1.5 to 2 percent of the alpha population. But still possible. I have one in my own family, after all.
He’s wearing a black tank top and a baseball cap. Even from this distance, the sheer bulk of his muscles is obvious. He’s definitely some kind of gym freak.
God, I wish I could go outside. The air inside this fortress feels acidic, suffocating.
But I know better than to hope. Asking Anzo for anything would come with a price I’m not ready to pay.
Then it happens again—
The gardener lifts his head and looks directly at my window, like he expects me to be standing there.
He’s too far away for me to see his eyes, but somehow I know, we’re looking at each other.
I hesitate. Should I wave? No. That’d be stupid. He probably wouldn’t react anyway.
But after a moment, I raise my hand and shyly wave.
He freezes just for a second but… doesn’t respond.
Soon, he goes back to work, acting like I’m not even there.
Ehhh. A fail.
Eventually, it hits 1 am, and Matteo returns, along with two other guys whose names I’ve already forgotten. Franco and Massimo? Maybe. Doesn’t matter.
They bring me downstairs to the first floor and lead me into a wide passageway that connects to a garage. A few cars are parked there.
We get into one; nothing flashy, just a plain civilian vehicle.
Matteo’s driving.
We roll up to a massive metal door. I only now realize how heavy-duty it is.
Two guards open it from a small booth I hadn’t noticed before, one side looks out into the garage, the other faces the outside.
They let us through, and we drive out of the fortress.
Outside, I see the place is surrounded by even more gardens. No surprise they need a gardener.
A short driveway cuts through, and then, another gate.
Fuck. Just as huge. Just as fortified.
There are more booths here too, but these look more like shooting posts, or hunting blinds. The kind hunters use to stalk prey.
For heaven’s sake. This place really is a stronghold.
One of the guards steps out of the booth and walks up to the car. He peers inside, eyeing each of us before heading back to his post. Only then does the second gate open.
Fuck, again.
Two guard checkpoints just to get in or out. Seeing this, whatever scraps of hope I had left just vanish. Although, let's be honest, it wasn't much anyway. No damn way I’m getting out on my own.
And even if I did, where the hell would I run to? The mafia finds everyone.
The drive to my dorm takes about forty minutes. The Sun is located just outside the city, near the coast. The whole ride is silent. None of the soldiers say a single word.
About ten minutes from our destination, one of them turns to me and hands me a small case that looks like a toiletry bag.
"I suggest you use some foundation to cover the bruises."
His tone is completely neutral, like he’s offering me a tissue or a glass of water.
I take the bag, jaw clenched, and check my face in the mirror.
The swelling’s mostly gone, but my right cheek is a mess of ugly colors.
I cover it with foundation. No big deal.
I’ve worn it before, so my dad probably won’t be surprised.
When we finally pull into the parking lot, Matteo turns to me.
"Lean forward," he says.
He removes my collar.
"You know there’s really nowhere for you to run," he says the obvious calmly, then holds up his tablet again. This time showing me a list of addresses. For a second, I don’t get what I’m looking at.
Then he explains, "Don’t recognize them?
These are the home addresses of all your brothers.
All seven of them. We even got River. There’s Snow and Bay, those two were easy, they live on your parents’ property.
Skye moved back in with them after college, so they’re all there together.
And here’s Rain’s address. And this one’s Storm’s.
Just to be thorough, we also got the address of your foster brother slash cousin, Nathaniel.
You grew up with him, didn’t you? And his older brother, Hunter, is here too.
Just to round things out. Gotta do a proper job, right? "
I stare at the list in stunned silence. The lives of twelve people depend on me. And I'm not the most dependable person in my family.
Seeing my expression, Matteo grins.
"So, it’s up to you. You decide these guys’ fate. Think it over. Maybe it’s better to just let them live, what do you think?"
I don’t answer. I’m not lowering myself to this level. Fucking psychos.
We get out of the car in the parking lot.
"You go in first," Matteo says, tapping the screen where my room is shown on a live feed from the camera. "We’ll follow a few minutes later. You’re being watched the whole time."
My jaw tightens as I leave the garage and head toward the dorm entrance.
That two-faced beta is still sitting at his desk. He glances up at me but doesn’t react. Like it’s totally normal I didn’t come back last night.
I walk past him without a word and make it to my room. I’m numb. In my head, I’m trying to map out how I’m going to act.
I sit down at my desk and open my laptop.
Mindlessly, I scroll through some pictures from my last photo shoot two months ago. I pick two and post them on Instagram like nothing at all is wrong in my life.
Fifteen minutes later, I hear footsteps in the hallway.
When Dad walks in, something clenches in my stomach.
There's an aura around him, like the halo of the sun. He should have the name, not me.