𝐄𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 has known only one thing for a decade-destroy everyone who betrayed her. Everyone has mistaken her silence for a weakness.
Their downfall is inevitable. With each step, ruin draws nearer.
For as long as The Underworl...
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A cold shiver runs down my skin, goosebumps rising. I felt like I couldn't move a muscle. It felt like I was trying to lift the weight of the world.
"Vedi se si sveglia." A deep and rough voice travels against the walls, making it echo. With the pain flowing through my head, it was hard to concentrate on what he was saying. [Translation: See if she's waking up.]
A throbbing feeling rushed through my head, making me wince. I tried to bring my hand up to hold my pounding head, but it was bound down to something. I tried opening my eyes to see my surroundings, but it was like they were glued shut.
There was some rustling before it all went quiet. Too quiet. Anxious butterflies filled my gut that I tried to ignore. The hair on my neck stood up, and I felt like I was being watched.
Using everything I had in me, I fluttered open my eyes, only to be met with complete darkness beside a faint flickering lightbulb above me that was swaying from side to side. The absence of light made me cautious of my surroundings.
I squint my eyes, leaning slightly forward. I try to find the source of the voice I heard before. I could hear a faint chuckle nearing from my left side, making me quickly turn my head in that direction, almost giving me whiplash.
Deciding to keep quiet and not react to its taunts, I slowly turn my head back to look straight ahead and wait for the coward to come out of the unknown shadow. As I sit, waiting, in this cold room, I feel a whisper of a touch on my bare neck and I feel my back tensing from the unwelcome graze, making me grit my teeth in irritation.
It continues its way up my ear and sideways to my jaw. A moment of realization dawns upon me, making me understand that the feather-like touch I'm feeling is coming from the tip of a blade, piercing the first layer of my skin.
Not giving it the satisfaction, I keep my face straight, keeping my anger at bay. To make my point across, I even press my neck more into the blade to show it I'm not afraid of what it's planning.
A hum of curiosity left its lips, and it lessened the pressure of the blade on my neck but not fully withdrawing it.
As I was more aware of my surroundings, I could hear its voice getting closer and more evident, "Non quello che pensavo sarebbe stata," [Translation: Not what I thought she would be,]
Italian—
Shit.
Still keeping quiet, I grind my teeth together as my eyes bore holes in the darkness.
"Sei sicura che sia lei?" The same deep, rough voice from before murmured, but it felt like it was right next to my ear as this room was utterly silent. [Translation: Are you sure it's her?]
That isn't Maxim.
"Vuoi vedere cosa mi ha fatto?" There was a moment of silence before he talked again, "E' stata lei." [Translation: Do you want to see what she did to me? It's her.]
