HIS

Chapter 45

The first thing I did after reuniting with the love of my life was relieve my aching bladder. The pain was intense—second only to when I was shot—but the relief was indescribable. In a dusty box tucked in the corner of the basement, I found some old rags that looked clean enough. I soaked them and gently wiped the dried blood from Domenico's skin. Then I gave him a few sips of water and drank some myself. It wasn't ideal, drinking from the tap, but right now, staying hydrated was our only priority if we wanted to survive.

His face was still badly swollen, though the puffiness around his right eye had eased slightly. The gash on his head clearly needed stitches, but for now, all I could do was clean it gently with water and a rag—the only tools I had at my disposal.

"Thanks, babe," Domenico murmurs, his voice barely audible and laced with pain that's written all over his face. Those monsters really did a number on him—but they'll regret ever laying a hand on my husband. I'll make sure of it.

"Anything for you, babe," I whisper, placing my hand gently on the side of his face that isn't swollen. I lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips, savoring the moment of closeness we've both longed for.

It's clear that even speaking is a struggle for him—that's why he's been so quiet. Judging by the way he moves, I'm almost certain he has a few broken ribs.

"Try to rest, love. You need to recover so we can figure out a way to escape this hellhole," I say, gazing into his eyes with all the love and reassurance I can offer. He slowly lies back down on the filthy mattress. It's far from ideal, but for now, it's the only option—we're in no condition to sleep on the cold concrete floor.

The only thing keeping me going is the thought of escaping this place—and making sure those monsters pay before we do. I never imagined I'd reach a point in my life where plotting someone's end would feel justified. But I chose this path, and in this world, survival means embracing who I truly am—the Donna I was always meant to be.

I think I've already proven myself—especially during that car chase when we were attacked. Now, it's up to me to find a way out of this place. At the end of the day, a woman will do whatever it takes to protect the ones she loves. That's the fire driving me forward.

Just after I got Domenico settled, the door burst open. A bulky man with piercing blue eyes and long, greasy, matted black hair stood in the doorway holding a tray. I couldn't help but wonder—do these people have something against basic hygiene? He looked like someone who hadn't smiled a single day in his life.

He placed the tray on the floor, then used the tip of his boot to slide it toward us. On it sat a medium-sized tub of something vaguely edible, two slices of bread, and two bottles of water. As quickly as he appeared, he was gone—no words, no expression, just the sound of the door slamming shut behind him.

We're being treated like animals, and it infuriates me how little regard these people have for us. Who puts food on the ground and expects others to eat it? Then again, this is the kind of world we're trapped in—one where life itself holds no value to them. I asked Domenico if he recognized any of them, but he shook his head. None of their faces were familiar.

I picked up the tray and carried it over to the mattress, setting it down gently beside Domenico. He lay on his side, watching me quietly as my eyes dropped to inspect the contents. A single tub held a thick, cold brown soup, accompanied by two slices of bread and a pair of water bottles.

"If we're going to survive this, you need to build up your strength," I say softly, my eyes searching his for any sign of response. I wait, hoping for even the smallest sign that he understands.

"You should eat first—you're carrying our baby," Domenico says softly, reaching out to gently touch my belly. His gesture makes my heart flutter. Even in this grim situation, he looks at me with such love and devotion, it fills me with warmth and strength.