To Ruin a Don

Trigger

The first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes was that my head throbbed, badly.

Like someone had shoved a jackhammer inside my head and set it to full blast.

Were they trying to kill me when they hit me?

I groaned and blinked my eyes, trying to get used to the bright light.

The ceiling above me was dark wood, polished to perfection. Soft lighting glowed from a vintage chandelier. Everything was rich, modern, and terrifyingly expensive.

I was definitely not in a dungeon.

I got moved while I was unconscious.

I sat up too fast— and instantly regretted it.

The room spun, nausea clawed at my throat but I forced myself to breathe.

In. Out. Assess.

I remember all that happened before they decided to use my head as a f*****g drum.

The man who had kidnapped me was my Uncle, Dante.

The man I had tried to flirt with, was my uncle.

He had carried me when I was a baby and I was thinking of him punishing me then.

Oh God, someone kill me.

I wonder what he thought when I was trying to get him to say something.

Oh f**k.

All those things he said about my father were obviously fake, and now I had to save myself before I got tortured

But where am I right now?

I needed to figure that out so I could leave.

I quite obviously didn't have my phone on me, or anything for that matter.

The jewelry I had on last had been removed, even my dagger too.

Okay Aria…

Think.

Large canopy bed. Silk sheets. A fireplace—still glowing faintly. Velvet curtains drawn over tall windows.

Where the hell was I? Versailles?

I threw the covers off and stood. I was wearing a pair of shorts and a shirt.

It better be someone’s grandma who changed my clothes.

I growled mentally, picking up a robe and wrapping it around me.

My eyes darted to the door, and my eyes searched the room for some sort of weapon.

Someone was coming.

The door creaked open and I paused, heart thumping in my ears.

A woman stepped in carrying a tray. She looked like a maid—maybe late fifties, dressed in black and white, bun tight, not a single hair out of place.

“You’re awake,” she said pleasantly. “I brought—”

WHAM.

I grabbed the bedside lamp and chucked it straight at her.

I did not hesitate.

Hesitation could get you killed.

She ducked with a gasp. The tray clattered to the floor, spilling coffee, toast, and what looked like croissants all on the floor.

I didn’t stop to admire the mess.

I charged.

If I wanted to get the hell out of here, I needed to act fast.

The woman screamed as I shoulder-checked her into the wall. She might’ve been screaming in Italian or terror—I couldn’t tell, I was in full beast mode.

But I sure do hope she is alright.

I flew into the hallway like a hurricane in bare feet and the clothes I had on.

No idea where I was going, but as long as I could find an exit, I didn’t care.

“Guards!” she shrieked behind me.

Not today, lady.

This girl’s not going quietly.

My head turned both ways, and it was clear.

I sprinted down the corridor, heart thudding like a drum. The hall was long, dark stone walls, minimal artwork, and cold marble floors that were both aesthetic and deadly slippery. Who polishes these things to mirror-shine?!

Two guards turned the corner ahead, and I skidded to a halt.

Oh s**t.

“DON’T MOVE!” One of them barked and I immediately threw up my hands in mock surrender.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” I said, backing up slowly.

Then I moved—straight at them.

I couldn’t just stand and have them take me.

The first one lunged. I ducked, kicked him in the shin, and shoved the second into a decorative pedestal. Something glass shattered.

“Bianchi b***h!” one of them wheezed, going down.

“I get that a lot,” I huffed, bolting again.

Do I have an idea where I am going?

No.

I might as well be running towards Dante.

Does that mean I’d stop?

Not at all.

I might also be running to my freedom too.

I ran down the stairs, jumping over steps two at a time. My hair was flying like a horror movie and my robe had come untied somewhere along the way—flapping behind me like a cape of chaos.

This is not what I’m usually like, but right now I’m happy I took the endurance classes I took when I was younger.

Two more guards appeared near the front entrance.

“DON’T MOVE!”

Oh, come on.

Do they have the same scripts or something?

It was almost as if they were programmed to shout the same thing to an escapee.

And what was I supposed to do? Stay at a place?

“Try and stop me!!” I shouted, grabbing the closest object off a side table—which happened to be a lamp shaped like a goose—and wielding it like a sword.

I flung it.

“DUCK!” I yelled at them and they flinched.

It missed. Hit the wall.

Oops.

The guards charged.

I slid under a console table, kicked one in the shin, and bolted for the door like hell was chasing me.

“Open the damn door!” I screamed at no one, because obviously no one would help me.

My hand fumbled with the locks—bolt, latch, another latch. My breath was ragged, pulse screaming.

Come on, come on.

But it was taking forever to open up the locks.

Oh for f***s sake.

Who made this door?

They were getting closer.

My fingers finally found the last lock—

CLICK.

The door creaked

I grabbed the handle, shoved it open with my shoulder, and—

Cold air hit my face.

It opened.

It opened.

I was free!

Freedom.

I almost did a happy dance. But I had to make sure I was actually gone before I dance.

“STOP HER!”

Too late.

I tore outside, hair flying, adrenaline surging. My bare feet slapped against stone, then gravel. A garden blurred past me. I didn’t know where I was, but I didn’t care.

I was out.

I was out.

Behind me, shouting erupted. Footsteps thundered.

They were closing in from all angles. I needed to hide.

But where?

Where??!

I didn’t think, I ducked behind a hedge, wheezing. My heart was hammering. My legs were jelly. But I was alive.

That was all that mattered.

I was alive.

I peeked up from the bushes.

Okay, I had zero plan beyond this. No phone. No shoes. No clue where I was. Just a bathrobe I’d grabbed from the room and wild determination.

Also, I was pretty sure I still had toast crumbs in my hair.

But all things considered?

Not bad for a girl who woke up kidnapped in a nightmare.

I didn’t know how I was going to get out.

But I knew one thing:

I was getting out.

And they’d have to kill me to stop me.

When I was sure the coast was clear, I moved out from where I was, about to make a beeline for the gates when a voice rang out behind me.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Dante said coldly, and I gasped, spinning around.

He had a gun in his hand, pointed directly at me. And he looked ready to shoot.

“You should have known better to try and escape,” he said, shaking his head.

My eyes darted to the gun and back to his face and I shook my head.

“Put the gun down,”

The look in his eyes told me I wouldn’t like what would happen in the next few seconds.

“You should learn your lesson,” he said as he c****d the gun.

Oh s**t. Oh s**t.

“Dante…” I called out.

And then he pulled the trigger.