CHAPTER 1: HER ARRIVAL
1168 Words
The moment Isabella Romano stepped off the plane, the weight of Belladonna City settled around her like a noose. The city smelled the same.
She adjusted the strap of her bag, exhaling slowly as she made her way through the crowded airport. Her father hadn’t sent anyone familiar to pick her up. Instead, a man in a sleek black suit stood near the exit, holding a sign that read Miss Romano.
“Welcome home, Miss Romano,” the man greeted with a polite nod. His voice was smooth, unreadable.
She hesitated for half a second before responding. “Thank you.”
He didn’t ask for her luggage. He simply turned and gestured toward the exit, leading her to a black sedan idling at the curb. A bad feeling curled in her stomach, but she ignored it. She had been gone for four years. Maybe she was just being paranoid.
The driver opened the door for her, and she slid into the backseat. The leather was cool beneath her fingertips, and the faint scent of cologne lingered in the air. The door shut with a soft click, and the car pulled away from the airport, gliding onto the main road.
Outside, the city blurred past—towering skyscrapers, neon lights, and alleyways that swallowed secrets whole. Some things had changed. Others hadn’t. Belladonna had always belonged to the mafia, but she had spent years pretending that world didn’t exist.
Her fingers curled into fists on her lap.
The drive should have been comforting. Instead, the silence pressed against her skin. Something felt… off.
Isabella glanced at the GPS on the dashboard. The route wasn’t right.
She leaned forward. “This isn’t the way home.”
The driver didn’t acknowledge her.
Her pulse quickened. “I said—”
Click.
The locks engaged.
Ice filled her veins. The realization slammed into her like a freight train. This wasn’t a ride home.
The car turned sharply down a dimly lit road, the city lights disappearing behind them. Isabella’s heart pounded as her mind raced through her options.
She had come home for a fresh start.
Instead, she had walked straight into a nightmare.
Isabella’s breath came in shallow bursts as the black sedan sliced through the empty streets like a phantom. The city was behind them now, replaced by abandoned warehouses and crumbling buildings, the kind of place where screams never made it past the walls.
Her fingers fumbled for the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Locked.
She swallowed the rising panic and forced her voice to stay even. “Where are you taking me?”
Silence.
The driver’s gaze remained fixed on the road, his hands steady on the wheel. He wasn’t a nervous kid making a mistake—he was a professional. That terrified her more than anything.
“Let me out,” she demanded, her voice sharper this time. “Right now.”
No reaction.
Adrenaline surged through her veins. She pressed herself against the seat, assessing her options. The tinted windows made it impossible for anyone outside to see her, and the central lock was controlled from the front. Her phone was in her bag, but calling for help was useless if she didn’t know where she was.
Think. Think. You can’t panic.
The car slowed as it approached a rusted gate, where another black SUV waited. Isabella’s stomach clenched. If they moved her to a second vehicle, she’d be even harder to track.
She had to do something. Now.
With one swift motion, she yanked off her seatbelt and lunged toward the driver, grabbing the wheel. The car swerved violently, tires screeching as it nearly clipped a lamppost.
“Let go,” the driver growled, his first words since she got in.
She didn’t. She clawed at his arm, nails digging into his skin. The sedan jerked to the side again, but the driver was stronger. With a single, brutal motion, he backhanded her across the face.
Pain exploded in her skull. Stars danced in her vision as she slumped back against the seat, dazed. Blood trickled from her lip, the metallic taste flooding her mouth.
The car came to a sharp stop. The back door wrenched open, and before she could react, hands yanked her out. A rough sack was shoved over her head, plunging her into darkness.
She thrashed, kicked, screamed—but a hard fist slammed into her stomach, knocking the air from her lungs.
Her world blurred.
The last thing she heard before everything went black was the sound of a man chuckling.
"She’ll fight," he said. "Good. That makes it more fun."
The first thing Isabella felt when she woke up was cold.
It seeped into her bones, wrapping around her like an iron chain. The stone beneath her was damp, rough against her bare arms. Her head throbbed, her lip stung, and when she tried to move, a sharp rattle of metal sent a wave of dread crashing over her.
Chains.
Her wrists were bound.
Panic surged, but she forced herself to breathe. She had to think.
Slowly, Isabella blinked the haze from her vision. The room was dimly lit, the walls where made of heavy stones. A dungeon. There was no window, no furniture, nothing but the cold, wet floor beneath her.
Footsteps.
She tensed. The heavy movement of heels echoed off the walls, growing closer. Then, the door creaked open.
A woman stepped inside, her silhouette sharp against the dim light. She was stunning, with cascading dark hair and piercing green eyes, but there was something venomous in her beauty. The way she tilted her head, the smirk playing on her lips.
She was no other person but Bianca Salvatore.
The name hit her like a bullet. She had seen the woman’s face in newspapers, she's the fiancée of Dominic Castellano.
Bianca crouched beside her, fingers tracing Isabella’s bruised cheek in mock sympathy. “You don’t belong here,” she murmured.
Isabella refused to flinch. “Then let me go.”
Bianca laughed, low and amused. “Oh, sweetheart, you misunderstand. You don’t belong anywhere.”
Her smile hardened. “I should kill you for daring to exist in his world.”
Isabella’s heart pounded, but she held Bianca’s gaze. “Then why am I still breathing?”
A flicker of something dark passed through Bianca’s eyes. Amusement? Hatred?
“Because Dominic wants to see you first,” she said, rising to her feet. “And he… enjoys his games.”
The way she said it sent a chill down Isabella’s spine.
With a satisfied smirk, Bianca turned and strode toward the door. “Don’t worry,” she called over her shoulder. “He’ll be here soon.”
The door slammed shut, locking her in.
Isabella clenched her fists. She wasn’t naïve—she knew what happened to people who ended up in places like this.
"Dominic Castellano was ruthless. That only meant one thing—tonight, she was going down, and no one could save her."
- Writer
