Chapter 6: in her cage 2
1486 Words
Then she slipped outside and shut the door.
As soon as she left, the room felt colder. I stared up at the ceiling, my thoughts spinning like a storm. Dante had said she was dead. He claimed he buried her. But now she stood breathing and furious, caught between love and vengeance.
What happened between them?
What truth was Dante hiding?
His words from the night before echoed in my mind. “You are mine, and I protect what’s mine.” He said it like a threat. Yet when Lucia shot at me, he threw himself in the path of the bullet. The memory sent a strange warmth through my chest despite the pain.
Did he protect me because I was his possession? Or did he protect me because there was something else growing between us?
Before I could unravel the thought, the door opened again. Another man stepped inside, this one broader, muscular, and armed. A guard. Lucia’s guard. He stood by the wall and crossed his arms, watching me silently.
I met his gaze. “Do you know what she plans to do?”
He remained expressionless. “I know enough.”
“You won’t survive if Dante comes here. None of you will.”
His jaw clenched. “That isn’t my concern.”
I took a slow breath. “If Dante and Lucia both die in this war, what do you think will happen to the Bianchi clan? They will tear the city apart. They will use you and then kill you.”
His eye twitched, and he looked away.
I seized the moment. “You don’t have to be part of this. Let me go.”
He shook his head. “I follow orders.”
“Even if those orders kill you?”
His silence was answer enough. He wasn’t loyal to Lucia. He was afraid of her. And fear was something I could work with.
Hours passed. I drifted in and out of shallow sleep, haunted by the echo of gunfire and Dante’s shout. My wound throbbed with every breath, but I forced myself to stay alert. I needed to think. I needed to find a way out.
When the door opened again, the guard stepped forward with a tray of food. As he placed it on the side table, the light from the hallway fell across his face. His left cheek bore an old scar shaped like a hook, its edges pale against his dark beard.
“Eat,” he said quietly.
“What is your name?” I asked.
He hesitated. “Matteo.”
“Matteo,” I whispered, tasting the name. “How long have you been working for Lucia?”
“Since she returned.”
“And where was she before she returned?”
He didn’t answer, which was answer enough.
I leaned my head back against the thin pillow. “Dante loved her once, didn’t he?”
Matteo stiffened. “That’s not for me to say.”
“He told me she betrayed him.”
The guard’s gaze flickered. “People change.”
“So do loyalties,” I murmured. “Yours can too.”
He stiffened again, but the seed of doubt had been planted.
The night stretched on endlessly. Shadows changed shape against the far walls as the bulbs flickered. At some point I drifted into a restless sleep. I dreamt of fire and smoke, of Dante pulling me against his chest as bullets tore through the walls around us. I saw his face again, covered in blood as he screamed my name.
When I jerked awake, sweating, the room was filled with a new kind of tension. The guard wasn’t at the door anymore. Instead, a different man stood there, smaller and with shifty eyes. He glanced around before stepping closer to me.
“You need to drink this,” he whispered and held out a cup.
I narrowed my eyes. “What is it?”
“It will help with the pain.”
I stared at the liquid inside the cup. It was clear, too clear. Something about his hands trembled. A warning prickled through me.
“I’m not drinking that.”
The man leaned closer. “Lucia said…”
“I said no.”
He scowled, grabbed my jaw, and tried to force the cup toward my lips.
Before it touched me, a hand grabbed him by the collar and yanked him backward. Matteo slammed him into the wall. The cup fell to the floor and shattered, spilling its contents.
“She said no,” Matteo growled.
The man scrambled away and fled the room, leaving us alone.
Matteo glared after him, then turned to me. “You were right. This place is poison.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Then help me.”
He approached the bed, pulled a small knife from his boot, and began cutting through the straps that held my wrists.
“We have to move fast,” he murmured. “Before Lucia returns.”
My heart raced as the final strap fell away.
“Where is she now?” I whispered.
Matteo’s jaw hardened. “Preparing for Dante. She contacted the Bianchi clan. They are gathering to lure him in.”
I slid off the bed, my legs trembling beneath me. My wound burned, but I forced myself upright. Matteo pulled a sweatshirt from a storage cabinet and handed it to me.
“Put this on. Keep your head down.”
I nodded, pulling it over my flimsy hospital gown.
He opened the door slowly.
The hallway beyond was long and poorly lit. The air was thick with the smell of mold, damp concrete, and old blood. As we walked, my heartbeat grew louder, echoing in my ears like a warning drum. Each step brought me closer to a place I didn’t understand, a war I had been dragged into, and a man who claimed me as his bride even though I barely knew him.
Yet as I struggled to keep my balance, one truth became clear.
I needed Dante. Not because he owned me. Not because he rescued me. But because I was now deep inside a viper’s nest, and he was the only person dangerous enough to pull me out alive.
Matteo led me down a flight of stairs that opened into an underground corridor. Pipes lined the ceiling. Water dripped rhythmically somewhere in the distance. A metal door waited at the end, illuminated by a single dangling bulb.
“This is the service exit,” Matteo said. “It leads to the back of the compound. There are cameras, but I know how to disable them.”
He placed his hand on the door handle.
Before he could turn it, a voice rang out behind us.
“I really hoped you would behave.”
We froze.
Lucia stood at the top of the stairs, a pistol in her hand, her eyes gleaming with malice.
She descended slowly, step by step, savoring the moment.
“I expected you might beg,” she said softly. “Or cry. Or bargain. But trying to run with one of my own guards?” She shook her head. “That is disappointing.”
Matteo raised his gun, but Lucia fired first. The bullet slammed into his shoulder. He crashed against the wall with a groan, blood spreading rapidly across his shirt.
I let out a terrified gasp.
Lucia pointed the barrel at me next.
“You should have stayed in your bed, Mrs. Romano.”
I took a step back, but my heel hit the metal door.
Her finger curled around the trigger.
Suddenly, a deafening explosion shook the entire corridor. Dust rained from the ceiling. The ground vibrated beneath our feet.
Lucia whipped her head toward the stairwell with wide eyes.
The roar of engines filled the air. Tires screeched. Men shouted.
Then I heard it.
His voice.
Dante.
He was here.
Lucia’s expression twisted from shock to fury. She snapped her gun back toward me.
“Looks like the final act begins now.”
Before she could fire, the door behind me blasted open from the outside. The force knocked me off balance. Cold air rushed in. Smoke spilled into the corridor.
Silhouetted against headlights, Dante stepped inside.
His suit was torn. His hair was disheveled. Blood stained his shirt. He held a gun in one hand and a second in the other, his eyes locked straight on Lucia.
His voice was low and lethal. “Touch her again and this time I will bury you deeper.”
Lucia smiled in a way that promised death. “Welcome home, amore.”
Dante raised his gun.
Lucia raised hers.
I stood between two storms, my heart pounding so violently it hurt.
The corridor filled with tension so thick it seemed to press against my skin.
Then both of them fired at once.
TO BE CONTINUED…
- Writer
