Bound By Blood: The Mafia's Vengeance

Chapter 3: The suite

She turned on her heel. “Sleep tight, principessa.”

Only then did Serena notice a photograph on the dresser. A girl, maybe sixteen. Smiling with the same eyes as hers.

What happened to you? Why do I look like you? A cold feeling moved through her as she stared at the photo.

Serena

I woke up sore. My wrists still hurt from the silk ties, but they were gone now. I sat up slowly. My head was still cloudy from whatever he’d used on me.

The white slip clung to my skin. I hated it, hated him. He touched me while I was unconscious. I know he did. I can still feel the ghost of his hands on my skin.

The door opened and a maid stepped in. Short, older with her gray hair pulled into a tight bun.

She pushed a cart with silver trays that smelled like coffee and fresh bread. My stomach growled as the aroma drifted into my nose, but I ignored it.

She didn’t look at me. She just set the food on the small table by the window. Then a neat pile of clothes.

“Bath is ready,” she said in a thick accent, not meeting my eyes. “In there.” She nodded toward a side door.

I stayed on the bed, arms crossed. “I’m not hungry. Not thirsty. And I’m not bathing.”

She paused, glanced at me quickly, then away. “Signore said you must.”

“Signore can go to hell.”

She paused, set a towel on the chair, poured water into a glass anyway, and left.

I waited. Counted to a hundred. No one came back.

I stood. My legs were shaky, but they held. Good. My body wasn’t failing me yet. I walked to the cart and poked the eggs with a fork.

They looked fine, no poison I could see. Still, I pushed the plate away. Same with the coffee. If they wanted me weak, fine. But not from their food.

The bath door stood open a crack. Steam slipped out, carrying the scent of soap and something clean. I peeked in, a huge tub, filled and covered in bubbles. Towels folded neatly.

Tempting. I was filthy and sweaty from the fight last night. My hair still smelled like cypress leaves from when he dragged me through the maze. But bathing felt like losing. Like admitting he had control.

I shut the door hard.

Back in the room, I paced. The glass wall showed the cliff dropping straight to the sea. Too high to jump The doors were locked from the outside, I was sure.

I thought about home. The big house in Naples. My room with the balcony. Dad’s voice drifting down the hall, always on the phone.

He would notice I was gone. His men would look. They had to. I was his daughter. His only one.

Unless… he already knew. Unless he lied last night. The thought twisted cold through my stomach.

I slumped onto the bed. Hunger hit me now, real and sharp. Thirst too, my mouth felt as dry as sand.

I looked around for something sharp. The fork on the cart was metal, pointy enough. I took it, hid it under the pillow.

I didn’t know if I’d use it on a lock or a throat. But I would use it.

Another knock, softer this time. My head snapped toward the door.

A man stepped in, and… God. For a split second, my breath caught. He was beautiful. And handsome in a way that felt dangerous.

Dark hair, slightly messy like he didn’t care enough to fix it. Strong jaw. Eyes that were colder than they should be for someone his age… but clearer than Adrian’s.

And there it was. That same darkness. Not the same, but close enough to make my stomach tighten.

I straightened slowly. “What are you, his brother?”

His gaze flicked at me, sharper now.

I let out a quiet breath, studying him more carefully now. “You have the same eyes.”

I shifted slightly, pushing myself closer to the bed. Closer to the fork under the pillow.

His gaze flicked there for half a second… then back to my face.

“Good,” he said.

I frowned. “Good?”

“You’re already thinking like someone who wants to live.” That threw me off. I wasn't expecting that line.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Dante.”

“Come to threaten me?” I pressed.

“If I wanted to hurt you,” he said simply, “you wouldn’t see it coming.”

A chill slid down my spine, not because of the words. But because I believed him.

He walked past me slowly, like I wasn’t something fragile… or something owned.

“You won’t last long like this, Eat,” he said.

I scoffed. “Or what?”

He opened the door slightly, then paused.

“Or you’ll be too weak when it actually matters.”

He glanced at the dresser.

“The photo,” he added. “Stop staring at it like it’s going to answer you.”

My breath caught. “Then you tell me,” I shot back. “Who is she?”

His jaw tightened. For the first time, I saw emotions flash through his eyes. But it vanished just as quickly.

“Wrong question, ask the right one… and maybe you will survive long enough to hear the answer.” Then he was gone.

A few hours later, the door was flung open, and Lucia marched in_ “Still playing games and starving yourself cute?”. She glanced at the full trays.

I stood. “Where’s Adrian?”

“Busy.” She crossed her arms. “Bath now, or I'll drag you.”

“Try.”

She stepped closer, and the smile vanished. Her eyes narrowed with pure hate, as if I’d stolen something precious from her.

Her hand shot out, grabbed my hair tightly, and pulled my head back with force. Pain burned across my scalp. I gasped.

“You think you’re special?” she hissed in my face. “He’ll break you.”

She slapped me hard. My cheek exploded with heat. I tasted blood. But I stared back stubbornly. Forcing the tears in.

She shoved me to the floor and stood over me. “Next time, I won’t be gentle.” She barked before storming out.

I lay there, cheek burning, hair tangled. My head spun for a moment, weak from hunger and the blow.

And her hate? It told me everything.

I had to get out of this place. Fast.

Before it killed me.