52
SERAFINA
H azy darkness fills every corner of my mind. Inky fuzziness blocks my ears, a distant ringing coming through every time I try to pull myself out of my subconscious. But the gravity towards abyss seems to be much stronger and after a while of fighting, I give up and let my mind transport me to better times.
Each dream is filled with Enzo. But those dreams turn into nightmares as my memory reminds me of all the lost moments Enzo and I could have shared. There was so much I should have said to him, so much we should have done together. He was always there for me in the darkest moments of my life; my mother’s death, my relationship with Luciano, my inauguration. It’s too late to go back, though. I can’t change the past, I can only look to the future and avenge what’s left of my best friend’s memory.
But that doesn’t stop those painful feelings from swallowing me up and suffocating me with anger and guilt. All my life I’ve known what my position means. To some, it’s a new era, liberation for all women. But to most, this isn’t how La Cosa Nostra is handled. The latter makes me sink deeper into my thoughts.
I’m vaguely lucid. The sensation of my body swaying still keeps me in the recess of my mind, but the pounding in my head draws me in and out. It allows me to recall recent events; the gun fire, the men, Giovanni screaming at me to run. I never saw him once I was yanked out of the vehicle, but I can hazard a guess as to what happened to him. He couldn’t have survived the bullets, I barely did. He won’t have been saved because there was nobody to save him. We were alone, outnumbered.
My shoulders pinch where my body sags, my weight sending pain through my arms and shoulders. Then shock comes as water splashes over my face, slipping into my lungs as my mouth parts. It’s cold, sharp, and not fresh at all. It’s like shards of glass cutting into my airways. I gasp and sputter, searching for purchase to stop the weightless sensation dragging my body. But it’s no use, my tiptoes barely scrape against the ground.
Blinking through the pain and hazy memories, I try to look around me, but it’s too dark.
Another splash of water sounds, but I don’t feel the frigid assault of it, I only hear another person’s groan fill the room.
I dart my head to the side, but I can’t see past my arms, only the vast darkness that blankets me. I try to swing my body around, but the metal cuffs cut deeper into my wrists. I scream out, anger filling my cries and stuttering my breath.
“Stay calm, Principessa .”
“Gio?” My throat gives way to a sob as soon as I hear his raspy voice. It’s dry like mine, gravelly from dehydration. I can’t describe the elation or relief I feel because there are no words to truly encapsulate the depth of my emotion. The only thing I can recognize is the fact I’m not alone. “You’re okay!”
Silence.
“How long have we been here?” I croak.
“Too long,” is all Giovanni says back.
I shudder at the thought that this is it for us. It doesn’t matter who I am in here, whoever came for us doesn’t plan on letting us leave.
“We need a plan,” I rasp, my lips dry from hours of sleep.
“This is all my fault,” Giovanni mumbles. His words are full of defeat, but I refuse to let them deflate me. I swing my body out, hoping the chains above me might give, but it’s fruitless. All I’m left with is more aches and bruises. I groan, letting my weight sag as the metal cuts deeper into my flesh. The cool air lashes at the grazes I can feel on my skin, doing nothing to soothe it.
I swing my body around until I’m facing Giovanni. I blink through the darkness, faintly making out his silhouette. “How can you say that, Gio? You didn’t know this was going to happen.”
“I should have done more, Sera. I should have—” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because the door ahead of us swings open and a blast of light beams through the space before a light overhead turns on.
I squint through the brightness, finally glimpsing Giovanni and his blood-soaked shirt. He’s slumped, just like me, though I can practically feel his desolation. It hits me like a wave, making me nauseous and dizzy. I turn my head to focus on the blurry figure lingering ahead of us. They approach slowly, almost cautiously, like we’re prey. In all honesty, I feel like prey right now, but it doesn’t take a genius to work out who my predator is.
Rage sparks through my blood. I wriggle and swing, trying to break free from my binds. It’s no use, though, my wrists are bound tight, my entire body hanging from a chain pinned in the low ceiling. Pain radiates so sharply that numbness extends to my extremities, making me dizzy. I groan through the pins and needles in my hands, my eyes struggling to focus on anything because it’s all still blurry.
“ Topolina .”
I shudder at the nickname, little mouse . That single dread-filled word spoken in his voice makes me want to hurl. I clench my eyes shut, willing for this to be all part of the same nightmare. It’s wishful thinking, though. I know it as soon as his hand slides down my back.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” I scream, kicking my legs out. I narrowly miss him. If I had a little more give in these chains, I’d be choking him out with my legs or knocking him out with a swing kick. Clearly, Luciano has considered that, because my body only gently moves, even from my exertion.
Luciano tuts at me, shaking his head and stepping in front of me to pinch my cheeks together. “I considered killing you, you know. Leaving you for dead on the side of the Valley road would have been a lot easier. But I’ll be honest, the idea of having you here with me is much more exciting, don’t you think?”
I spit a glob of saliva out, landing it perfectly on his face. “Do you think I’m going to believe your sentiment?” I laugh sadistically. I push my head through my arms, getting as close as I can to Luciano. I won’t give him the satisfaction of my fear. That’s reserved for someone who deserves it, someone like Giovanni who has done nothing but take bullet after bullet for me. “You can’t kill me, you don’t have the fucking balls.”
Luciano sneers back, his anger thinning his lips. I know I’ve struck a nerve when my head shoots sideways and pain radiates through my cheek. He grabs my face with one hand, pressing his forehead to mine. “I don’t have to kill you, Bianchi. I just have to give you enough pain. You always liked the pain, didn’t you? Though I have to admit, you have more fight in you this time around. I’m going to have even more fun breaking you now.”
I suppress a shudder at his proximity. Luckily, he shoves me back harshly, putting some distance between us. The weight of my body and the restriction of my chains doesn’t allow me to move far enough though, which means it’s on Luciano to step away.
The cuffs punch my wrists as I writhe against them. The urge to scream out is almost unavoidable, so I bite down on my lip, willing my fear to withdraw even just a sliver so I can keep my cool.
“You can hurt me all you like, Luciano,” I grit out. “You’ll get nothing.”
“Is that so?” Luciano steps towards Giovanni, a sly smirk on his face. “Maybe she’ll change her mind once we tell her the truth, what do you think, Gio?”
I turn my head toward Giovanni, my brows furrowing.
“I did what you asked,” he growls. “Now give me my daughter back!” Giovanni thrashes against the chains, but his body isn’t strong enough to get him loose .
Luciano cackles at his efforts. “You can have her back when this is finished.”
My eyes widen and shock has me frozen. It all hits me like a sledgehammer to the gut as realization sinks in that these two know each other.
“What is he talking about?” I snap, trying to catch a glimpse of Giovanni. “Gio?”
Luciano swings me back around to face him, gazing at me with evil intent. “You trust too easily, Topolina .”
My brain seems to move a million miles a second, but I’m having a hard time keeping up. My thoughts are blurred with questions. I’m so fraught with confusion that I can’t seem to find any fucking words. But Luciano was always good at mind games, and I should have known that this was inevitable; him attempting to break me one last time.
“Gio?” Though I try to be strong, his name parts my lips on a whimper. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve called out to him, and it stings that he won’t answer me.
Luciano laughs sadistically before turning on his heel and heading into a corner of the room, toward a table full of rusty tools. Luciano plucks up each one, examining it quietly. That action alone tells me he’s had this all planned out, and the shame I feel that I’m once again at the Verdi’s mercy kills a piece of me, little by little.
The pause gives me the chance to look around— as much as I can in my restricted state. We’re in some kind of basement where mold festers in the cracks of the walls. It smells damp and reeks of death.
Luciano grins up at me, his blue eyes filled with a sadistic flare. In his hand, he holds a knife, sharp and clean.
If there’s one thing I know about tools like these, it’s that it doesn’t matter if they’re rusty or not. They all hurt the same. There’s a reason rusty tools are used over clean ones, though, and that’s because you don’t have to go as deep. You can still score flesh and cause excruciating pain, the added bonus being the infection you die from afterward. Sharp tools are used to cause quicker pain. You don’t carefully slice and dice, but slash to your heart’s content. And I think that’s what scares me the most. Bleeding out isn’t a pleasant way to die. If I’m going out, I want it to be quick. Though I’ve known Luciano long enough to ignore my na?vety now. He’s not going to make this quick at all.
“Darling, Serafina.” Luciano draws the blade down my cheek. It’s cold and sharp, like every molecule in this room. The slice of flesh burns through my face as the air around us hits the open wound. I can feel the warmth of my blood trickle down my face as Luciano drags the metal down my neck and over my top. The straps of my camisole snap away with a flick of his wrist, the material pooling at my waist.
“The things I want to do to you,” he says whilst suppressing a groan. “It’s like old times, no?”
I suppress the urge to shudder with disgust. I can’t allow it to bother me because that’s the kind of sick satisfaction Luciano gets. He preys on the weak because he knows he can’t gain a sense of power any other way. The lunatic thrives off of power trips. But I won’t give him what he wants. He can paint this room with my blood, but I still won’t beg.
Luciano runs the knife over my bare breast, pressing the sharp edge against my skin.
I bite down on my lip as I feel more blood drip down my chest. Luciano smears it with one hand, painting my body in crimson. Then Luciano moves to my back, slowing dragging the knife through my flesh. I clench my eyes shut and try to block out the searing pain, but I’m not built for torture, and a nauseating moan escapes me along with a sob.
Luciano leans forward, licking the blood from me between my shoulder blades. “Your pain tastes delicious, sweetheart.”
“ Vaffanculo ,” I growl, tears welling in my eyes. I squeeze my eyelids harder, praying the tears don’t fall. There’s no way in hell I’m allowing Luciano to win this early in the game.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Luciano whispers in my ear. “We’re getting to that. I might even let your bodyguard watch.”
“Leave her alone,” he snaps weakly. I’ve never heard such pain and sadness come from him, not even when he told me about his daughter. It not only captures my attention, but Luciano’s too.
My eyes blink open, shock wracking through me at the sound of Giovanni’s voice.
Luciano pauses, pulling back as he chuckles in amusement. “You don’t have a say anymore, Gio. In fact, you’re of no real use to me,” he laughs.
My heart twists in agony at his words, but even so, a wave of relief washes over me when Luciano withdraws further, the warmth of his body leaving my backside.
Luciano moves to stand in front of me, his sharp blue eyes cutting straight through me and I have to look away for fear of breaking like he wants me to.
“You don’t have to do this,” Giovanni pleads. I feel his sadness in those words, like he’s already aware that this was inevitable.
“Don’t tell me you care what happens to her now, Gio. You’re the reason she’s here.” Luciano tuts mockingly, shaking his head as he stalks toward Giovanni, brandishing the knife. “It was so easy to manipulate you. All it took was the right incentive.”
His words grip my heart, making it unbearably hard to breathe. With each breath, I find myself spiraling. I don’t need to know what Luciano means, I’m more than capable—even in my state—to piece everything together.
Giovanni’s daughter.
The mole.
It’s all starting to make sense.
“Is that true?” I ask Giovanni. “You’ve been working with him this whole time?”
Giovanni doesn’t say a single thing. I don’t think there is anything he can say, really. I already know the answer by the way his head droops between his arms.
Defeat and disappointment claw at me from the inside, ripping apart everything I thought I knew. Giovanni was supposed to protect me. He was supposed to keep me safe. I drop my own head through my arms, letting the silence war with the torrent of questions in my head.
I can’t trust anyone.
“So fickle with your loyalties,” Luciano mocks. “Maybe I should just slit your throat now and be done with it.”
“No!” I scream, thrashing against my binds as Luciano closes the distance between Giovanni and himself.
He suddenly freezes, slowly turning back to face me, a flicker of amusement lighting his cold blue eyes. I see the moment that realization washes over him, his lips spreading into a gleeful smile as his head swivels between me and Giovanni. Pointing the knife toward him threateningly, Luciano snarls like the devil himself has possessed him. “Damn, I always knew she was a slut, but sleeping with the man who was betraying her all this time?” He wheels around on me, unfiltered accusation lacing his tone. “Are the rumors true, then? You and Fontana? You and Marchese?”
I try to school my expression, but something in it must give me away, because Luciano’s face screws up in disgust.
“Well thank god I didn’t stick my dick in you. You’re damaged goods.” A flare of wickedness ignites in his eyes. “I can think of other ways to make you suffer, though.”
He spins back on Giovanni and my gut twists as he raises the knife, drawing it up to his throat.
It’s a split second move, one I don’t see coming until a roar rips through the room, the vibrations from Giovanni’s deep tone rattling through me, twisting my gut.
Blood smatters the floor below my feet. My teeth grind as I try to block out the sickening sound, but it just keeps on coming.
“NO!” I scream out. I shouldn’t feel defensive of him, not after the revelation of what he’s done, but I can’t help it. I still care about my stoic bodyguard. I can’t just turn those feelings off.
Luciano’s relentless onslaught continues as he drives the knife into Giovanni’s stomach, over and over, my tears rolling as I curse myself for caring so much. Any other leader would ignore the pain of their soldiers, but I can’t. Giovanni is a part of me .
“Stop it!” I cry out, my body shaking. “Stop it!”
“You’re defending him?” Luciano barks an angry laugh as blood pours over his hands. “He fucking sold you out. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself!”
“That’s… not…” Giovanni croaks out, but his words are cut off when Luciano drives the knife back into his stomach.
I scream and scream, but Luciano doesn’t stop. There’s too much blood, too much pain.
My vision blurs, and I succumb to the sinister darkness, greeting it like a long lost friend.