Chapter 26 Serena
Serena
A stunning blonde writhes against those same windows, her back arched in pleasure as Shelby drives into her. I squint and try to identify her. The angle is unmistakable. The position is identical to the one he used with me. It’s clearly his MO.
My stomach heaves. I’ve seen her a few times, always at Syndicate auctions. She works at the Crimson Velvet, Shelby and Tommy’s sex club.
“You’ve been spying on me?” I spit the words at my father, fury momentarily overriding the devastation clawing at my chest. If he has this image now, it’s logical to assume that’s because he’s been recording Shelby and me for a while.
He ignores my accusation entirely. “The point here is that you’re holding on to an illusion. Your dear husband never really cared for you. Or he wouldn’t have moved on this quickly.”
I stare at the screen, watching Shelby’s hands grip the blonde’s hips the same way they gripped mine. Watching his face contort in pleasure, the same way it did when he was inside me.
Every fucking time he was inside me.
“I don’t believe you,” I hear myself say.
I won’t let my father know how much he’s hurting me. But he’s sown doubt, and the damage is done.
The walls I spent years building brick by careful brick, the ones Shelby had been slowly dismantling with his touch, his false hope, and broken confessions, slam back into place with brutal force.
This is why I built a fortress. I was right to protect myself. This was always going to end badly for me. The voice in my head sounds tired. Resigned. As if loving Shelby Boyle was just another form of setting myself up for failure.
Except, this time it might mean my utter destruction.
I designed those drones. I built that surveillance system for my family. And now they’ve used my own creation to show me my husband fucking another woman hours after my disappearance.
“Ready to come to your senses?” Giovanni’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. “Give us the information we need. Tell us where you’ve hidden the evidence, what the Boyles know about our operations. Make this easy on yourself.”
I consider it.
My heart is in pieces. My body aches. My soul has been hollowed out and filled with ash. What’s the point of fighting anymore? Shelby has already moved on. My marriage was always an illusion.
Then Lucia Rossi’s smile surfaces in my memory.
Twelve years old. Bright eyes full of curiosity. I want to make apps that help people, Serena. You think I could do that?
The manifest listed her as “Specimen 847.” Estimated value: $450,000. Preferred use: domestic servitude, initial processing. Last notation: six months ago.
I don’t know what happened to her after that. I don’t even know if she’s alive. But I know there are thousands more like her in those documents I’ve gathered.
This isn’t about Shelby or me. This is a war to save women and children.
I lift my eyes to meet my father’s gaze and spit the words, “Over my dead body.”
The slap comes fast. Pain explodes across my cheek. My head snaps to the side. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth where my teeth cut the inside of my lip. I don’t utter a peep.
“You will respect me.” Giovanni’s voice is low, dangerous. “I am still your fucking father.”
I turn my head slowly back to face him, showing him the defiance in my eyes. The contempt. The absolute refusal to break.
“You stopped being my father the moment you put a price tag on a twelve-year-old girl.”
A murderous fury flickers across his features. Then he stands, his movements jerky with barely contained rage, and storms toward the door.
“Don’t hurt her,” he throws over his shoulder at Cesare. “I still need her alive and functional.”
The door slams behind him.
And I’m alone with the monster.
Cesare moves slowly, deliberately, savoring the moment. His footsteps echo against the stone floor like a countdown to something terrible.
“Your wish is my command, principessa,” he murmurs, his voice like silk draped over broken glass.
His hand closes around my throat before I can react, with crushing pressure. My airways constrict, and black spots dance at the edges of my vision. I can’t breathe, can’t speak, can’t do anything but stare into those empty eyes and wait for the end.
But I don’t make a sound.
Not a whimper. Not a gasp. Not a single noise that would give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s hurting me.
My silence enrages him more than any scream could. His grip tightens for a terrifying moment. I genuinely think this is it, this is how I die, strangled by the man my father wanted me to marry.
Then he shoves me away.
I gulp air like a drowning woman, my lungs burning, my throat on fire. But I keep my eyes locked on his. I won’t look away. I won’t show weakness.
Cesare runs a thumb over my lips, the touch obscene and possessive. “I’ve seen what you can do with these.” My stomach turns. “I’ve jerked off to the images of you sucking Boyle’s flaccid dick more times than I can remember.”
The surveillance footage. He’s confirming my suspicion. They’ve been watching us. Every intimate moment between Shelby and me, catalogued and studied by this foul creature.
Cesare’s hands move to his belt. The sound of his zipper coming down fills the small cell like a death knell.
“Open your mouth.” He pulls his dick out. A pale, thick, obscene thing that makes bile burn my throat.
I stare at him, keeping my expression blank even as terror claws at my insides.
“Come on, don’t play coy. You know how to do this,” he inserts his thumb between my lips, forcing them apart.
I bite down. Hard.
“Bitch!”
The slap that follows is brutal, my head snapping to the side so hard the bones in my neck crack in protest. Lights explode behind my eyes, and I think I might pass out.
For a heartbeat, everything goes gray. When my vision clears, Cesare’s face, a contorted mask of rage, hovers above mine.
He grabs me, his nails digging into my cheeks hard enough to draw blood.
“Your father will think he left these marks.” His voice is a hiss of pure malice.
“But there are other places he won’t see. ”
His free hand drops to my breast and squeezes.
The pain is excruciating. It feels like a vise crushing my tender flesh, grinding nerve endings until tears spring involuntarily to my eyes. Every instinct screams at me to cry out, to beg him to stop, to give him something, anything that might make this end.
I hold my ground. I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood. I clench my jaw until my teeth ache. But I don’t make a single sound.
Cesare brings his face close to mine. So close our noses nearly touch. His breath is nauseating, a mixture of stale wine and rotten soul.
“You need to learn your place, Serena.” His hand squeezes my other breast, then slides lower, pawing at me through my dress.
“You’re not the untouchable mafia princess anymore.
” He palms my sex roughly, and I force myself not to flinch.
He slaps my ass hard enough to leave a mark.
“Soon, I’ll own your pretty little body.
I’ll fill every hole, cover every inch of your porcelain skin with my mark.
” His smile is a grotesque parody of pleasure.
“And when I’m tired of fucking you, I’ll rent you to the highest bidder.
And then the next bidder, and the next one, until I have no use for you. ”
He steps back, tucking himself back into his pants with one hand while sucking on his wounded thumb. He switches the lights off and closes the door behind him.
I’m alone in the dark again.
The silence is deafening.
I allow myself to feel.
The tears come first.
They burn down my cheeks like acid, and my body begins to shake. From head to toe, I tremble like a leaf in a hurricane. My breath comes in ragged gasps. My chest heaves with sobs I refuse to voice.
My soul shatters, fractured into so many pieces I don’t know if I’ll ever be whole again.
I stare into the darkness, letting the tears fall freely. There’s no one to see them now. The image of Shelby with that blonde woman haunts me. The feeling of Cesare’s hands on my body makes me want to claw off my own skin.
Everything shakes.
My hands, my legs, my faith in anything good or worth fighting for.
But somewhere in the wreckage, a small flame refuses to die.
Shelby married me in a Vegas chapel to keep me safe from a monster. And even if he did betray me, he wouldn’t betray the fight. He’s in this war for those people who need to be saved. But he’s also hunting those responsible for Martha’s murder. He would never betray his mother.
I close my eyes, tears still streaming down my face, and whisper into the darkness. “Please prove them wrong, Shelby.” My voice cracks, but I push the words out anyway. “Find me and bring me home.”