CHAPTER 2: WITH THE CREATOR
1401 Words
The door creaked open again.
This time, the man standing in the doorway wasn’t just another faceless captor. He wasn’t a henchman, or a guard.
This was Dominic Castellano.
The name alone can make you pee on your pants, his name was called in fear throughout Belladonna City. He was a king in the underworld, untouchable, merciless. And now, he was here, standing before her.
Isabella’s breath hitched.
He stepped inside with measured precision, like a predator toying with prey. His tailored suit clung to his powerful frame, every inch of him radiating control.
Without a word, he pulled a chair across the room and sat directly in front of her. The metal legs scraped against the stone floor, the sound grating in the eerie stillness.
Then, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, studying her.
The way his dark eyes bore into her sent a pulse of dread through her veins. There was no warmth in them, no sign of kindness only a heavy grip of darkness.
"Nice meeting you, Isabella Romano," he said, his voice low, smooth, like velvet wrapped around steel.
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t cower. Didn’t try to escape.
She simply met his gaze, her body rigid against the cold chains binding her wrists.
Her father had warned her about men like him. Never look them in the eye, Bella. Never challenge them. But she wasn’t a child anymore, and if she was going to die in this room, she wouldn’t do it with her head bowed.
A long silence stretched between them. Then, finally, she spoke.
"Why am I held captive?"
Her voice was steady, but Dominic caught the slight tremor in her fingers. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there. He smirked.
"That’s for your father to answer."
His words were casual, almost dismissive, but the weight behind them was anything but.
Then, he leaned back in his chair, a cruel amusement shining in his eyes as he added—
"I’ll send you to him soon."
The words hit her like a gunshot.
Her chest tightened, her pulse spiking in raw panic. The world around her blurred as her mind clung to the one thing that mattered.
Her father.
The man who had raised her. Protected her, even when he acts as if he doesn't care about her, but deep down he cares. He even went as far of sending her away four years ago, when her grandparents where killed with a promise that she would be safe.
If Dominic Castellano had her now, if she was a pawn in this deadly game, then that could only mea that something isn't clear.
Something was wrong.
Something had happened.
Her breath came out ragged, the chains rattled as she tried to push herself forward, her body surging with desperation.
"What happened to my dad?"
Silence.
She yelled this time, her voice cracking with something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel until now—
Fear.
Isabella’s breath hitched as Dominic leaned back in his chair, his smirk stretching into something cruel, taunting.
"Oh, you should have asked what happened to your family first," he mused, amusement dripping from his tone.
Her stomach twisted in horror.
Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. The flick of his lighter echoed in the cold, empty room, the small flame casting eerie shadows on his sharp features.
Then—a spark.
A slow inhale.
He took his time, letting the thick, acrid smoke coil around him like a serpent before exhaling it directly into her face.
The air burned her lungs.
Isabella coughed. Her vision blurred as fresh tears slipped down her already tear-streaked cheeks.
"What happened to my family?" she asked, her voice raw, fragile.
Her world hung in the balance.
Dominic’s smirk deepened.
"Hmm," he hummed, tapping the cigarette against the edge of his chair, watching the embers fall to the floor like dying stars.
Then—the words that shattered everything.
"They’ve all gone to meet the Creator."
The air left her lungs.
She stared at him, the pain of his words pressing down on her chest like a hot iron.
No.
No, no, no.
Her mind refused to process it, refused to believe it.
"You’re lying," she whispered. "You’re lying!"
But Dominic just watched her, his expression unreadable, as if her pain was nothing more than an expected outcome.
And then it hit her—this wasn’t a game.
This wasn’t an empty threat.
This was real.
Her father. Gone.
Her family. Wiped out.
Everything she had ever known, everything that had ever been hers—reduced to nothing but ashes in Dominic Castellano’s hands.
Rage.
It came suddenly, violently, ripping through her chest like a wildfire.
"You killed my family!" she screamed, her voice shaking the walls, her pain turning into something feral, uncontrollable.
The chains around her wrists rattled as she lunged, but she never made it far.
CRACK.
A searing pain exploded across her face, her head snapping to the side.
The loudest slap.
Her ears rang.
The sting of nails tearing through her skin sent hot blood trickling down her cheek.
She gasped, vision spinning, her entire body recoiling from the force of the slap.
Her breathing came in sharp,gasps as she struggled to process what just happened.
And then, slowly, she lifted her head.
Bianca.
She stood there, towering over her like a goddess of wrath, her long, manicured nails still glistening with Isabella’s blood.
Her emerald-green eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
She had entered the dungeon minutes after Dominic entered but she never payed attention to her.
She had been there all along watching and waiting.
Like a viper coiled and ready to strike.
Isabella’s cheek throbbed, but she didn’t look away.
Bianca tilted her head, her lips curling in a slow, deliberate smirk. "You’re making too much noise," she said smoothly, her tone dripping with venom.
A slow tear slid down Isabella’s cheek, but she didn’t wipe it away.
She couldn’t.
Because she was frozen in a nightmare.
A nightmare she would never wake up from.
Isabella’s pulse pounded in her ears.
The room felt smaller, the walls pressing in, suffocating her as Bianca’s cruel words echoed through the silence.
"You see, your father, Mr. Romano, didn’t want to hand over the map of Trenper."
Bianca’s voice was smooth, laced with amusement, as if she were simply discussing the weather.
"Instead, he ended his life—alongside your mother and your brother."
Isabella’s stomach dropped.
No.
No, no, no!
The air around her thickened. She felt her blood run cold, her entire body trembling as she processed the words.
"So you," Bianca continued, taking a slow, deliberate step closer, "are the only surviving Romano left."
A cruel smirk curled at the edges of her lips.
The only one left.
The weight of those words settled on Isabella’s chest like a boulder, pressing the air from her lungs.
Her father… gone.
Her mother… gone.
Her brother… gone.
She had never been naïve about the world she was born into. Her father had always been deep in the underworld, entangled in deals that could get him killed.
But he had always kept his family separate.
Safe.
Or so she thought.
What went wrong?
Where did it all go wrong?
Her body trembled, but she forced herself to look Bianca in the eye.
Then, she did the only thing she could do.
She spat.
"Lies," she hissed, her voice dripping with venom.
A mistake.
Before she could even blink, Bianca’s hand shot out.
Fingers wrapped around her throat, tightening like a noose.
The pain was instant, suffocating.
Isabella’s eyes widened as Bianca’s sharp nails mercilessly dug into her skin, piercing the delicate flesh of her throat.
"You better tell me where the Trenper map is," Bianca growled, her breath hot against Isabella’s face, "or you join them."
Her grip tightened, cutting off Isabella’s air.
A sharp, burning pain spread from her throat down her spine, but she refused to break.
But the truth was, she had no idea what the Trenper map even was.
Her father had kept his secrets buried deep.
And now, he had taken them to the grave.
Bianca’s eyes flickered with something dark.
Deadly.
Then—a click.
Cold metal pressed against Isabella’s forehead.
A gun.
Bianca’s finger rested on the trigger, steady.
No hesitation.
No mercy.
"She was ready to shoot."
- Writer
