Veil of Shadows

Chapter Fifteen - Evangeline

I woke to the darkness. It was thick, oppressive, wrapping around me like a suffocating blanket. My head throbbed, and every inch of my body ached, the pain so intense that it drowned out every other thought, every other sensation. I tried to move, but the rough rope around my wrists and ankles bit into my skin, holding me in place.

I couldn't breathe properly; the air was damp, heavy with the stench of mold and something worse—something metallic and sharp that clawed at my senses. Blood. My blood.

My mouth was dry, my throat raw, and when I tried to speak, no sound came out. I wanted to scream, to demand that they let me go, but my voice was gone, stolen by fear and exhaustion. The last thing I remembered was being dragged from the estate, the familiar sights of my home fading into a blur as they forced me into a car, the doors slamming shut behind me.

Now, I was here, wherever here was. I forced myself to open my eyes, squinting against the faint, flickering light that seeped through the cracks in the walls. The room was small, barely more than a cell. The walls were made of concrete, stained and cracked, with moisture seeping through the gaps. There was nothing else—no windows, no furniture, just the chair I was tied to and the darkness pressing in on all sides.

I could hear them outside, their voices low and harsh, speaking in a language I didn't fully understand. The Giovannis. They had taken me, and now I was at their mercy. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a painful reminder of how close I was to losing everything—my life, my freedom, everything.

A tear slipped down my cheek, and I tried to hold it back, tried to be strong. But the fear was too much, too overwhelming. Another tear followed, then another, until they were streaming down my face, silent and unstoppable. I couldn't stop crying, couldn't stop the flood of emotions that crashed over me like a tidal wave. I was terrified, broken, and there was no one to help me.

Lucas. I clung to the thought of him like a lifeline, imagining his face, his voice, the way he looked at me. He had to know I was gone by now, had to be looking for me. But what if he didn't find me in time? What if they—

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the thoughts, trying to stop the panic from consuming me. I had to stay strong, had to survive. But the darkness was closing in, and all I could do was cry, my tears falling into the silence, unnoticed, uncared for.

The pain in my wrists grew sharper as I struggled against the ropes, the rough fibers digging into my skin, but I didn't care. I needed to move, to do something, anything, to remind myself that I was still alive. But it was no use. The bonds were too tight, and every movement only brought more pain.

I was trapped, alone, and there was nothing I could do. I couldn't scream, couldn't call for help. All I could do was sit here, bound and helpless, waiting for whatever horror they had planned for me.

The tears continued to fall, and I let them, too exhausted to fight anymore. I let the darkness take me, closing my eyes and hoping, praying that Lucas would find me before it was too late.

Hours passed—minutes, maybe. Time lost all meaning in the darkness, each second stretching into eternity. My tears had dried, leaving my face sticky and my eyes sore. I must have fallen asleep, or maybe I just passed out, but when I woke again, it was to the sound of a door slamming shut with a force that rattled the very walls.

I jolted awake, my heart leaping into my throat, and I blinked rapidly, trying to focus through the haze of pain and disorientation. The dim light in the room flickered, casting shadows that danced menacingly across the concrete walls.

And then I saw him.

Standing in front of the door, bathed in the sickly glow of the single bulb that hung overhead, was Alessandro Giovanni. The leader of the Giovanni family, the man who had started all of this. He was tall, with dark, slicked-back hair and a face that might have been handsome if not for the cold, calculating cruelty etched into every line. His eyes were like shards of obsidian, gleaming with a twisted satisfaction that made my stomach churn.

I wanted to scream at him, to demand answers, to tear him apart with my bare hands. But as he took a step forward, the only thing I could hear was the ringing in my ears, a high-pitched whine that drowned out everything else. His mouth moved, forming words I couldn't understand, couldn't process. It was as if the world had gone mute, leaving only that awful, endless ringing.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as anger surged through me, hot and vicious. I was pissed off. Beyond pissed off. This man—this monster—had taken everything from me. My home, my freedom, my life. He had torn me from the only place I had ever felt safe, and now he stood there, looking down at me like I was some broken thing, a toy for him to play with.

I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of my fear. Not anymore.

Alessandro's voice cut through the ringing, cold and smooth like a blade slicing through flesh. "There is no saving you, Evangeline," he said, his tone laced with mockery. "No one will find you. You're mine now—all mine."

He stepped closer, and I forced myself not to flinch, not to show any weakness, but my body betrayed me. When his hand reached out and touched my bare shoulder, I recoiled, the contact sending a wave of revulsion through me so strong that I nearly gagged. His fingers were cold, his touch a violation that made my skin crawl. I wanted to tear myself away, to rip my own flesh off just to escape the feeling of him on me.

But I was trapped, bound and helpless. I couldn't move, couldn't fight. All I could do was sit there and endure as he ran his hand down my arm, as if he owned me, as if I were nothing more than a possession.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block him out, trying to focus on anything other than the sickening sensation of his touch. But his voice continued to cut through the darkness, taunting me, reminding me of the hopelessness of my situation.

"You're all alone," he whispered, leaning in close, so close that I could feel his breath against my ear. "No one is coming for you. No one can save you."

A shiver ran down my spine, but it wasn't fear that gripped me—it was rage. Pure, unadulterated rage. I was sick of feeling helpless, sick of being at the mercy of men like him. I wanted to fight, to scream, to make him pay for everything he had done.

But all I could do was sit there, trembling with anger and disgust, as Alessandro Giovanni, the man who had destroyed my life, smiled down at me with cold, pitiless eyes.