Chapter 10
ELENA
Pain woke me first.
Not the sharp kind that fades quickly, but something deeper, spreading through every joint like my bones had been shattered and forced back together wrong.
My ears rang with a high, metallic whine, the kind that swallowed every other sound and left only a hollow echo inside my skull.
For a moment, I couldn’t tell where my body ended and the pain began.
My back felt like it had been dragged across asphalt and then run over for good measure.
Every inhale hurt.
Every exhale hurt more.
I forced my eyes open.
Not dead.
That was the first thought.
Not heaven.
Not hell.
Just—a room.
I lay on a narrow cot, the thin, unforgiving surface pressing into my back.
My wrists weren’t bound.
But moving still felt like punishment.
Every shift sent a fresh wave of pain rippling through my body, setting fire to the bruises that had already begun to bloom beneath my skin.
I tested my fingers.
They worked.
My breathing steadied—barely.
Then—the door exploded inward.
Vincenzo stormed in.
His presence filled the room instantly—suffocating, sharp enough to cut through the haze of pain clouding my mind.
His face was controlled.
Eyes dark—black with something deeper than anger.
He crossed the room in three long strides, stopping directly in front of me.
Towering. Overwhelming.
“Why on earth did you follow Renzo to that meeting?”
“You’ve been in the academy less than a month.”
A step closer.
“You think you’re ready to ride with the Third Battalion?”
“You think this is some CIA field exercise?”
I forced myself to sit straighter.
Pain lanced through my spine immediately, sharp enough to steal my breath for a second.
I didn’t let it show.
“Take it easy, Vincenzo. Your men might be trained, but I can do everything they can,” I said, trying to mask the ache still rippling through me.
“And it’s not like surviving a bomb explosion is exactly a first for me.”
His eyes narrowed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I see you mistake my silence for gentility.”
Before I could retort, his hand shot out, closing around my upper arm like iron.
The pressure was brutal.
Pain exploded instantly, sharp and immediate, radiating through my shoulder and into my ribs.
I bit back the sound that tried to escape.
Barely.
He hauled me to my feet.
Fast. Rough.
My balance faltered, and I stumbled, fighting to stay upright as my body protested every movement.
Fresh pain flared along my ribs.
The burn on my arm.
The aching, growing bruise where the explosion had kissed my skin too close.
My legs wobbled. My breath came in shallow gasps.
He didn’t care.
He dragged me out of the room.
Down a short corridor.
My bare feet scraped against the cold concrete, each step jarring the bruises that were already blooming across my back and legs.
The explosion had thrown me hard.
I could feel the dull pressure behind my eyes—warning me of a possible concussion.
The sharp sting along my ribs.
For a moment—memory and reality blurred.
We moved through another door.
And into a larger space.
A garage bay.
Dimly lit.
Concrete floors stained with oil and time.
Renzo knelt in the center of the room.
His wrists were bound behind his back with heavy zip-ties.
His posture was still.
His head was slightly bowed—but not in defeat.
His head had been shaved clean.
Dark stubble already beginning to prick through his scalp.
He didn’t look up.
Ciro stood a few paces away.
Tall. Still. Composed.
A Glock 19 rested in his hands, held in a perfect two-handed grip—low, ready.
Vincenzo shoved me forward.
Hard.
I stumbled, barely catching myself as pain shot through my elbow and up my shoulder.
“You think our world is a joke?”
His voice echoed off the concrete walls.
“You think you can just tag along on a high-risk sit-down because you’re bored?”
A step closer.
“Because you’re angry I left to check on Violet?”
I opened my mouth, ready to answer.
“On your knees.”
Vincenzo’s command sliced through the air like a blade, cutting off every word before it could leave my lips.
I froze.
For a split second—everything stilled.
Then—
Ciro moved.
Fast.
His boot drove into the back of my right knee with brutal precision.
Cartilage cracked.
My leg gave out instantly.
I dropped hard to the ground, knees slamming into concrete with a sharp, sickening impact.
A raw cry tore from my throat before I could stop it.
Pain exploded through my leg.
My vision blurred for a second—but I forced it back.
I forced myself to stay conscious.
“I forced him.”
The words tore out of my throat—strained, barely holding together.
“I pressured Renzo to take me. He didn’t want to. Leave him out of this.”
For a fraction of a second, there was only silence.
Then—impact.
Pain exploded across my back as something heavy slammed into me with brutal precision.
A baton.
Not meant to maim. Just to break you down.
Air was driven from my lungs in a violent gasp as my body arched forward, muscles locking in reflex.
White spots burst across my vision, bright and disorienting, swallowing the edges of the room.
The explosion’s aftershocks had already left me raw—every nerve exposed, every breath a negotiation with pain.
This—this was another layer.
Hot. Deep.
The force of the strike radiated across my shoulder blades and down my spine, settling into a burning ache that refused to fade.
I sucked in a shaky breath, biting down on a groan.
Barely holding it together.
Ciro’s voice cut through the haze.
Cold. Flat.
“Do not speak unless spoken to.”
I swallowed hard.
Tasted iron.
Blood—where I’d bitten my tongue without realizing.
I forced my head up slightly.
Vincenzo’s fists were clenched at his sides.
But his gaze—his gaze flicked away from me the moment the baton had landed.
Just for a second.
Like he couldn’t bear to watch.
Then he turned.
And started pacing.
Fast and restless.
Boots striking concrete in sharp, controlled echoes that filled the room with a rhythm of contained fury.
“Renzo cannot be forced to do anything,” he said, voice deliberate, each word measured like a strike.
“He knows the modules, the operandi of this family. He took you on a mission that could have ended your life—a woman who had no clue how our world operates.”
“He hated you so much he wanted you gone. He knew the risks of meeting with other families, yet he did it anyway, all because of that foolish promise he made to Violet’s sister on her deathbed.”
“So no, Renzo knew exactly what he was doing. And you... you ignored my calls. Not once. Not twice. Again. And again. Such defiance isn’t courage. It’s ignorance. It means you underestimated me. And you will learn—quickly—what that costs.”
He stopped suddenly. Right in front of me.
Close enough that I had to tilt my head up to meet his eyes.
I forced my gaze down to the floor instead, focusing on the dull, stained concrete beneath my knees.
The weight of every decision I had made pressed down on me.
I could face whatever punishment was coming, accept it fully—but I could only hope that Renzo would be spared.
I knew Renzo hated me, yet I didn’t believe he truly wanted me dead.
The way he had yanked me away from the blast’s direct path... if he hadn’t steered me toward that particular side, I would have been reduced to ashes.
Vincenzo exhaled slowly through his nose, then straightened.
“The Sicilians didn’t come tonight to kill anyone. Flattening the tires? That was deliberate—to avoid human casualties.”
“The directional explosives... they weren’t meant for our men. They were meant to destroy the vehicles, nothing more.”
He let the words settle.
Then his gaze sharpened, and he crouched, bringing his face level with mine.
Close. Dangerous.
“If they wanted all of you dead, they wouldn’t have wasted time with tires. The blast would have hit while you were driving home.”
A pause.
“The Sicilians have already taken responsibility for the attack. We’ll deal with them—on our terms. At the right moment.”
He leaned slightly closer, voice dropping to a lethal cadence.
“Matteo Alvarez and the Sicilians are secret partners. The Sicilians planted those bombs in the vehicles parked outside to send a message—proof that Matteo is watching you.”
“If you had stayed away from that meeting, nothing would have gone wrong. But you didn’t. And your reckless move—taking that bomb from the car—cost me the entire third battalion. Somehow, only you and Renzo survived. That’s... surprising.”
The room went still again.
I stayed on my knees.
Breathing slow.
Pain still pulsing through my body—but now, something else had taken root beneath it.
Understanding.
And something more dangerous than the pain.
I lifted my eyes.
Just slightly.
Not enough to challenge. But enough to be seen.
“You left me—”
“I left to make sure Violet didn’t die in a ditch because her driver clipped a guardrail.”
Vincenzo’s voice cut in—low, but edged with something sharp enough to slice clean through my defiance.
Because her driver clipped a guardrail?
That’s what nearly got her killed?
The absurdity of it cut through the tension like a knife.
He straightened to his full height, posture rigid, the anger still there but buried deeper now.
His gaze shifted.
First to Renzo. Still kneeling.
Then back to me.
“You’ve only seen the restrained version of me. The one who kisses you at the altar instead of snapping your neck. The one who walks away instead of finishing what he started in your bedroom.”
“Ask Ciro. Ask Renzo.”
“The other side of me—the one you haven’t met—has no humanity left. No mercy. No second thoughts. You don’t want to see it.”
A pause.
“Get up.”
The command was simple.
But my body refused to cooperate.
I tried.
The moment I shifted my weight, my knee buckled again, sending a sharp, searing pain straight up my leg.
My breath hitched as my body collapsed slightly to the side, the floor rushing closer before I caught myself with trembling arms.
White-hot pain bloomed across my leg.