OWNED BY THE DON

CHAPTER 6 - INTO THE WOODS

The Escalade glided through the iron gates of the Castellano estate, a sprawling fortress of stone and shadows.

As the car came to a halt under the grand portico, Fabio let go of her chin, his expression softening into something disturbingly like pride.

“Welcome home, Rachel,” he said, his voice dropping to that low, intimate baritone.

He stepped out first, the rain still drizzling over his broad shoulders. He didn't wait for a guard; he reached back into the car himself, offering a hand to help her out.

Rachel took it, her fingers ice-cold against his warmth. She played the part of the broken doll perfectly, keeping her head down, her shoulders slumped, and her footsteps heavy.

“Lead her to the East Suite,” Fabio commanded his men, though he kept his own hand firmly on the small of her back as they entered the foyer. “And bring the doctor. I want that mark on her face gone by morning.”

The mansion was a labyrinth of marble floors and towering archways. As they reached the second-floor landing, Fabio’s phone buzzed—a brief, sharp vibration that broke his focus. He glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening. It was a business distraction, a momentary crack in his wall of absolute control.

“Take her the rest of the way,” Fabio snapped at the two guards following behind. He looked at Rachel, his thumb tracing the line of her shoulder one last time. “I have a matter to settle. Don't move from your room.”

He turned on his heel, his mind already pivoting back to his empire.

The guards led her toward a heavy oak door at the end of a long, dimly lit gallery lined with Renaissance paintings. They were relaxed, lulled into a false sense of security by her quiet sobbing and fragile frame. As the lead guard reached for the handle and the other turned to check the hallway, Rachel saw her window.

Near the door stood a heavy, ornamental bronze pedestal holding a marble bust.

She didn't scream. She didn't hesitate. With a burst of adrenaline-fueled strength, Rachel shoved the pedestal with everything she had. It toppled with a deafening crash, sending the marble bust shattering across the floor and causing the guards to jump back in confusion.

In that split second of chaos, Rachel didn't run for her room. She bolted the opposite way, toward the service staircase she had spotted behind a velvet curtain.

I won't be a trophy on his shelf, she thought, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

She reached the back stairs and threw herself down them, her bare feet silent on the stone. She could hear the shouts of the guards echoing through the vents above. She reached the ground floor, bursting through a heavy steel door that led into the sprawling, dark gardens of the estate.

The rain was heavier now, a freezing curtain that hid her as she sprinted toward the perimeter wall. But as she reached the edge of the woods, a familiar, terrifying sound cut through the wind: the low, rhythmic thud of heavy footsteps, and the click of a safety being switched off.

“You have a habit of making things difficult, Rachel,” a voice rumbled from the darkness.

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The guard was a wall of muscle, his face obscured by the shadows of the pines. He didn’t raise his weapon; he didn't need to. He simply stepped into her path, his arms spread like a cage.

“Move!” Rachel screamed, her voice raw.

She didn't wait for him to respond. Driven by a cocktail of pure terror and the frantic need for agency, she lunged. She swung her fists wildly, her small knuckles cracking against the tactical vest over his chest. It was like hitting a brick wall.

The guard didn't even flinch. He reached out to grab her shoulders, but Rachel was a cornered animal now. She lowered her head and drove her weight forward, sinking her teeth into his forearm with enough force to draw blood through his sleeve.

The guard let out a sharp grunt of pain and recoiled, losing his grip. Seizing the moment, Rachel grabbed a heavy, fallen branch from the muddy forest floor. She swung it with a desperate, two-handed arc, catching him across the temple. The wood snapped upon impact, but it sent the man stumbling back into the brush.

She didn't stay to see if he got up. She scrambled toward the looming stone perimeter wall, her breath coming in ragged, sobbing gasps. Her hands found purchase on the rough, wet stone. She began to climb, the jagged rock tearing at her fingernails, her ruined white dress catching on the thorns of the ivy.

She was halfway up, her fingers hooked into a narrow crevice, when the world was suddenly flooded with blinding white light.

The estate's high-intensity security beams had swung toward the woods.

“That's enough,” a voice boomed, vibrating through the trees.

Rachel froze. Below her, the forest floor was crawling with red laser sights, all converging on her back. But standing directly beneath her was Fabio. He wasn't wearing his jacket anymore; his white shirt was soaked through, clinging to his athletic frame, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal forearms corded with tension.

He looked up at her, his face a mask of cold, terrifying admiration.

“You bit my best soldier and cracked his skull with a tree limb,” Fabio said, his voice dangerously low. He didn't look angry this time—he looked captivated. “Most men in this city wouldn't have the courage to touch him. And you did it in a cocktail dress.”

“Stay away from me!” she shrieked, clutching the wall.

“Come down, Rachel,” he commanded, stepping closer until he was directly under her.

He reached up, his large hands waiting to catch her. “If you fall from that height, you’ll break your neck. And I'm not finished with you yet.”