Chapter Twelve
Sabrina
The room is damp and freezing. Water clings to the concrete walls, sliding down in thin streams before gathering in small puddles across the floor. The air smells of rust and mould, and beneath me, the stone is hard enough that every bruise and broken muscle protests whenever I move.
Pain pulses through my body. My shoulders ache, my ribs feel cracked, and my wrists burn where thick metal cuffs hold them above my head. The chains rattle softly whenever I shift, the sound echoing through the empty room and reminding me that there is nowhere to go.
Blood drips from the corner of my mouth, warm against the freezing air. I can taste it on my tongue, metallic and bitter.
“Again.”
The voice is calm and cold, sliding down my spine like ice water.
I barely have time to brace myself before the kick lands.
The steel toe of the boot slams into my ribs with brutal force, knocking the breath from my lungs.
My body folds forward as far as the chains allow, and a choked gasp escapes before I can stop it.
My vision blurs instantly, dark spots dancing at the edges.
“You are weak, devochka.”
The words are spoken almost casually, as though he's pointing out something obvious.
I try to breathe, but my lungs refuse to cooperate. Every inhale feels like shards of glass digging deeper into my chest.
A hand fists in my hair and yanks my head back. Pain shoots across my scalp as my neck is forced upward. Before I can focus, the sharp crack of a slap echoes through the room. My head snaps to the side, and the taste of blood floods my mouth again.
I close my eyes and force myself to hold on.
I will not break.
The knife appears so quickly I almost miss the movement. One moment his hand is empty; the next, the blade catches the dim light of the room. My body tenses instinctively, but there is nowhere to go.
The first cut steals the breath from my lungs. Pain spreads across my side like fire, sharp and blinding. My fingers curl into fists, my nails digging into my palms as I fight to keep the scream trapped behind my teeth.
“You will learn,” he says quietly.
The blade twists deeper.
The world explodes into agony.
I jerk awake with a violent gasp.
My body thrashes before my mind can catch up. For a moment, I'm still in that room, still chained and bleeding, and every instinct screams at me to fight. Hands grab my arms, trying to hold me still, and panic surges through me.
My fist swings out blindly.
It connects with something solid.
A sharp curse fills the cabin, followed by the sound of someone stumbling backwards. The noise barely registers because my heart is racing so hard I can hear it pounding in my ears.
“Sabrina!”
The voice cuts through the chaos.
I suck in a ragged breath, my chest rising and falling rapidly as reality begins to push through the fog of the nightmare. The plane. The cabin lights. The steady vibration beneath my feet. Slowly, the hands release my arms, though I can still feel the tension in the air around me.
My entire body is shaking, every muscle tight and ready for another blow that isn't coming.
Then a small hand slips into mine.
“Rio?” My voice comes out hoarse, barely louder than a whisper.
Dario is standing beside my seat, his big brown eyes wide with worry. His small fingers tighten around mine as though he's afraid I might disappear if he lets go.
“You were screaming,” he says quietly. “I tried to wake you up, but you wouldn't stop.”
I blink several times, forcing my breathing to slow as the past finally loosens its grip on me. I'm not there anymore. I'm here, on the plane, thousands of miles away from that basement.
I look around the cabin and realise everyone is staring.
Bianca looks pale, one hand pressed to her mouth as she watches me with wide, worried eyes. Rafael stands nearby, his posture rigid and his expression tightly controlled. Dante and Enzo are watching carefully, their concern obvious, while Matteo rubs his jaw where my fist must have landed.
His brows draw together as he studies me.
“What the hell was that?”
My hands are still shaking when I wipe the sweat from my forehead. My ribs ache with phantom pain, as though the kick from the nightmare somehow followed me into the present.
“Nothing,” I say quietly.
The word sounds hollow even to me.
Enzo leans back slightly, clearly unconvinced. “That didn't look like nothing.”
I lift my eyes to meet his, letting my expression go completely blank. The same cold mask I learned to wear years ago slips easily into place.
“You should mind your own business.”
The silence that follows is heavy, but no one asks another question. I lean back into my seat, tightening my grip around Dario's hand as though it's the only thing anchoring me to reality. His thumb brushes across my knuckles in small, nervous circles.
Outside the window, the sky stretches endlessly into darkness. I stare at it, focusing on the steady rhythm of the engines and pretending the nightmare is gone, that my hands aren't trembling and that I don't still feel the blade twisting inside my ribs.
Because the truth is something I learned a long time ago: no matter how far you run, the past never really stays buried.
***
The plane had landed an hour ago.
The moment it came to a complete stop, the cabin door opened. I grabbed Dario's hand and stepped outside as quickly as I could without actually running. The cool night air hit my face, sharp and clean compared with the stale air inside the plane. That metal tube had started to feel like a cage.
Now we were in the car, driving away from the private airstrip, and the silence inside the vehicle was heavy. I sat by the window, watching the dark landscape move past as my fingers tapped slowly against my thigh, filling the quiet with a rhythm I didn't have to think about.
The road stretched ahead of us, smooth and empty. Tall trees lined both sides, their branches forming shadows that swallowed most of the light from the streetlamps. Every few hundred metres, another security post appeared, guarded gates sliding open before our car even slowed.
The island was too quiet. There were no crowds, no traffic and no distant noise from a city.
Just long, winding roads disappearing into darkness and the occasional glow of enormous estates hidden behind tall walls and iron gates.
Each property looked massive, the kind of place built for people with too much money and too many secrets.
From the outside world, this place didn't exist. There were no maps, no visitors and no one accidentally wandering in. Only the families who lived here.
Inside the car, the silence hadn't changed. I could feel their eyes on me. Rafael was in the front seat with Dante beside him, while Matteo and Enzo were behind us. Bianca sat beside Dario, and every so often, their gazes drifted towards me, studying me with a mixture of caution and curiosity.
They wanted to ask questions.
Are you okay? What happened back there? Why did you scream like that?
But no one said anything.
Dario sat pressed against my side, humming quietly as he swung his legs back and forth. His small hand remained wrapped tightly around mine, and I let him hold on. He deserved a moment of peace.
Eventually, the car slowed as we approached a set of towering iron gates. They rose smoothly as we got closer, revealing a long driveway beyond them. My stomach tightened the moment the estate came into view.
The house sat in the distance, enormous and glowing with warm lights against the dark sky. It looked almost unreal, like something pulled straight out of a magazine.
I forced myself to breathe slowly, pushing down the unease creeping into my chest.
It was just a house.
The car rolled to a stop in front of the entrance. Rafael stepped out first, followed by the others. I remained seated for another moment, staring at the building before finally stepping outside.
My boots hit the pavement, and the cool night air brushed against my skin.
Dario tugged on my hand as he stared up at the house, his eyes wide with amazement.
“Whoa... this place is huge.”
I glanced down at him, gave him a small smile and ruffled his hair.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “It is.”
He kept staring at everything around us – the tall windows, the massive doors and the perfectly lit driveway. A small gasp escaped him whenever he noticed something new.
Watching his excitement softened something in my chest. Maybe bringing him here was the right decision. Maybe this place could give him something better than the life we had left behind.
We walked towards the entrance together, gravel crunching softly beneath our steps. The doors opened before we reached them, and warm air spilled out from inside the house.
The entrance hall was enormous. Marble floors gleamed beneath the soft lights, expensive furniture filled the space, and a sweeping staircase curved towards the upper floors. Everything was immaculate, almost too perfect.
Everything about the place felt controlled.
Perfect.
I hated it immediately.
It felt like a house meant for people who belonged in this world without trying, people who had never had to fight for every scrap they had.
And me?
I had spent too long surviving in the dark to pretend I belonged somewhere like this.
Bianca turned towards me and hesitated before stepping closer. Her eyes were soft when they settled on mine.
“Welcome home, sweetheart,” she said gently.
For a moment, I didn't respond. The word home sat awkwardly between us.
Instead, I shifted my attention to Dario. He was looking around the entrance hall with wide eyes, his gaze jumping from the sweeping staircase to the high ceilings and tall windows.
Seeing that look on his face steadied me.
He looked happy.
And that reminded me why I had decided to come here in the first place.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed someone carrying my luggage towards the staircase. My gaze lingered on the bag for a moment longer than necessary.
He better handle that carefully.