Chapter 7 Adrian
A fter leaving Mia, I listen outside the door, catching the muted sounds of her moving around, rummaging through drawers. She’s relentless, I’ll give her that. I knew she’d scope out the room for an escape route or weapon. She doesn’t know the work that went into preparing this place—down to welding the windows shut. But I want her to try. Let her think there’s a way out.
I hear her pause, then more faint movement. She suspect she might be attempting to check the window as best she can with her hands tied behind her back. I think she went into the bathroom to try her luck in there. Part of me expects her to scream or throw a fit, to rail against the walls like the others have done. But Mia Vitale is no ordinary captive. I knew that the moment I took her.
She’s desperate, but she’s calculating too. And part of me wants to see if she’ll be as tough as she tries to act when push comes to shove.
I finally enter the room, finding her staring out the window at the snow piling up outside. She doesn’t jump or flinch when I close the door behind me. Instead, she keeps her gaze on the white blur outside.
“You lied to me,” I reply, watching for any reaction.
“No, I didn’t,” she replies smoothly, turning to face me. “I didn't try to escape. I was just checking the windows and bathroom.”
"Really,” I drawl.
She lifts her chin in defiance. “Look, I’m here. I’m not running. But we both know Dante won’t negotiate. We both know I’m just… expendable.”
The word lands like a weight between us. Expendable.
“Is that what you believe?” I ask, and there’s something in my voice that even I don’t recognize. “That your brother wouldn’t give a damn if you didn’t make it back?”
The silence that follows is heavy, and I see something flicker in her eyes, something raw, and she doesn’t look away. This isn’t just fear. It’s the realization that her dreams—the life she wanted away from all this—might not ever come to pass. And I don’t know why that makes my chest feel tight.
She shifts uncomfortably under my gaze, then looks down, her voice dropping. “I… I had plans, you know. To leave all of this. But you’ve ruined that, haven’t you?”
There it is—the sadness, the loss, the anger. I don’t reply, just watch her.
Finally, I nod toward the door. “Come to the living room. If you promise to keep that mouth of yours in check, maybe you’ll get some answers.”
She throws me a scornful look but rises to her feet.