Chapter 28
Nicole
Raffaele comes downstairs and orders one of his men to unchain me. Fear tightens my chest as I remember what he said about me being useless now. I haven't given him anything, I think to myself, my mind racing. There are the people who escape or are saved, and then there are the ones who don't. The thought chills me, but I refuse to let it consume me. I won't go out like that, I tell myself, forcing calm over the panic threatening to rise.
"I've done what I can," I murmur under my breath, a wave of quiet dignity washing over me as I steel myself for whatever comes next. As we reach the top of the stairs, I brace for the worst. But instead of whatever dark scenario I'd imagined, they lead me to my room. Raffaele and his goon stay outside, watching as I step in.
"Shower. Get dressed. Come out when you're done," Raffaele says, shutting the door firmly behind me.
My room is trashed, just as I expected. My bags are overturned, and my clothes and belongings are scattered everywhere. They've gone through everything. Of course they have. I take a deep breath and head straight to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. The sight of the shower makes me pause; the thought of hot water hitting my skin feels almost foreign. Has it been a week? It must've been at least that long since I felt something warm and cleansing. I strip off my dirty clothes and step in, letting the water run over me, feeling the grime and stress melt away for a moment.
Afterward, I dress quickly, not wanting to give them any reason to think I'm stalling. The guy waiting outside the door is new—I've never seen him before. He leads me downstairs without a word. When we reach the dining room, I see Raffaele seated at the head of the table, a spread of food laid out before him: crepes, Italian sausage, fresh baguettes, eggs, and a few other dishes I can't even identify right away.
I sit. Another man is working in the kitchen, also unfamiliar.
I can't help but notice Fredo's absence. The temptation to ask where he is gnaws at me, but I stop myself. You can't save everyone, I remind myself. Gio, Jaime, Shane—focus.
"New crew?" I ask, settling into my seat, my eyes scanning the room.
"Something like that," Raffaele says, smirking. "But that's not your concern. Just know that all these men are loyal to me. They recognize me as the future of Avvoltoi. You could learn something from them."
I glance at the table, at the feast laid out before us. "You celebrating?" I ask, unable to hide the bitterness in my tone.
"Power and respect have their rewards," he replies smugly, cutting into a sausage. "Me and those around me? We always eat well."
Each word from his mouth turns my stomach. Raffaele has always been arrogant, a man who believes he is bigger than the world around him. But now, it's more than arrogance—it's delusion. He doesn't speak anymore; he preaches, like some twisted prophet of his own making.
"Please," he says, his voice eerily sincere. "Eat. You must be hungry."
The false kindness in his tone is chilling, considering everything he's done to me. I sit there, staring at the food, unwilling to move.
"Okay," Raffaele says, almost as if he's surrendering. He begins to help himself, grabbing sausages and baguettes.
"French omelet with Gruyère and fresh herbs, or a sausage omelet with caramelized onions, roasted red peppers, and cheddar?" Raffaele says, pointing to the two omelets on the table. When I don't respond, he shrugs and takes the sausage omelet for himself. He pours some orange juice from a jug and starts eating.
I sit in silence, wrestling with whether to eat or not. But my body chooses for me. My hunger is overwhelming, and my hands instinctively reach for the nearest stack of bacon. I stuff a piece into my mouth, the taste hitting me like a jolt. Before I know it, my plate is full, and I'm stuffing food down like it's my last meal.
"So, you want to convince me you're still useful?" Raffaele says, his voice casual but laced with challenge. "Convince me."
"I'll do it. Whatever you need from Shane—I'll find it, bug his office, whatever you want. But you leave me and Gio out of this after it's done. You don't touch Jaime."
"And Shane?" Raffaele's voice drops to a low tone.
"I'm here, aren't I? I left Shane once; I'll do what you need and leave him again. He can take care of himself." The words come out cold, detached—nothing like how I feel.
Raffaele chuckles. "I send you back to Shane, and you'll do everything you can to take me down. No, Nicola, we're beyond that now, and we both know it. You need assurances, and so do I."
"What do you want me to do?" I stop eating, my appetite completely gone. "You've already got Gio. You've threatened everyone I know. I'm locked in your prison." My voice rises louder now, frustration cracking through. "What else can you take from me? What else do I have to lose, to offer?"
"Your loyalty." His eyes narrow. "I want you to prove your loyalty to me, the one who's protected you. Gio's done his part; it's time for you to prove yourself. The way I see it, you owe me two debts. One for you, one for Gio. First, you prove your loyalty to me. You do that, and Gio goes free. And once I have what I need from your billionaire... we'll be clear."
I stare at him, rage simmering under the surface. In his twisted mind, he's justified every ounce of torture, every threat, every vile thing he's done. And now he says I owe him. I glance at the knife on the table before me—gleaming silver, practically calling my name. A single moment, a quick lunge across the table, and this nightmare could be over. But then, so would I. So would Gio. I force myself to relax, noting what the torture has done to me. My survival instincts are at their peak. He's not wrong to be suspicious; I can't wait to see him hurt.
"Nicola." Raffaele's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. "Are you listening?"
I nod and play along. "How do I prove my loyalty to you... as the new head of the Avvoltoi?" The words make me want to vomit, but Raffaele's smile widens, feeding off the praise. His ego is monstrous, even more grotesque than I ever realized.
He whistles sharply, and his men file out of the room without a word. "Not for their ears," he says, locking eyes with me.
I take a sip of the coffee, trying to steady myself. "What do you need?"
"Le Ombre owns an establishment in town—The Velvet Mirage. You know it?"
I freeze. My heart sinks as realization dawns. "You want me to help you kill someone?"
Raffaele grins. "You want to prove your loyalty? What better way to bind us together?"
"I'm not a killer, Raffaele. I'm not doing it." My voice is firm, but inside, I'm unraveling.
He leans back, his smirk fading. "You won't kill anyone. We just need you to help get close to him."
The air between us thickens. I know what he's doing—he's trapping me. He knows I'll be entirely bound to him once I help him with this. Spying on Shane is one thing; this is something else entirely. He's tying me into his web, ensuring I can never leave without consequence. Le Ombre, the police, Avvoltoi—someone would catch up with me eventually, and all he'd have to do is make a phone call.
"So... The Velvet Mirage. You know it?" His tone is serious.
"Yeah," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Good." Raffaele's eyes gleam with pride as he lays out the plan. It's sloppy, full of holes, just like I expected. He's getting desperate. But I don't question anything. I let him think he's in control.
As he speaks, I drift, lost in my thoughts. How did I get here? Caught up in something so dark, so twisted? I think of my mother's words, her lifeless body flashing before my eyes. Her voice echoes in my mind, warning me about this life. I see myself dead-eyed and broken, lying across a bed just like her.
I can't do this, and I can't let him do it either. My mind races with its own plan, one I have to execute before it's too late.
Raffaele's voice pulls me back. "It should take no more than—"
There's a knock at the door, and one of his men steps in. "Raffaele, we need you now."
Raffaele sighs, annoyed. He looks back at me. "Enjoy your breakfast. Think about what I've said." He stands up, wiping his hands on a napkin. "And remember this—you will be assisting me in a murder, one way or another. Either this Le Ombre pig... or Giovanni. This time, I mean it. Once I take control, your protection is gone. Better you prove your worth now."
He leaves, shutting the door behind him and leaving me alone at the table. I stare at the half-eaten plate of food, nausea rising in my throat. Slowly, I pick at the bacon, knowing I need my strength for whatever comes next.
Raffaele thinks he's cornered me, but he doesn't know everything. If I call the police, Raffaele could know it was me. He'd take his vengeance out on Gio, Shane, and eventually me. He needs to be rooted out. Le Ombre may be the key to turning this all around, and I have one in mind. Finding him may take some time, but being the daughter of informants, if there's one thing I've learned from my parents... it's how to play the patience game.