The Mafia's Pet: Pawn Of The Ruthless ( A Dark Romance)

Chapter 54: Shackles of Control

The cold hit her like a shockwave, jolting her from the darkness that had swallowed her whole. Evangelina's body spasmed, her eyes shooting open as icy water cascaded over her, soaking her skin and cutting through the feverish haze that clouded her mind. The dungeon was dimly lit, the stone walls slick with damp, and the cold seeped into her bones, making every inch of her body ache.

Aemilio stood over her, his eyes dark with fury, the empty bucket still in his hand. The look on his face was one she had grown all too familiar with—a twisted combination of rage and control. She had pushed him too far this time. She had tried to escape, to defy him. And now, she was paying for it.

"You thought you could leave," he spat, his voice low but seething with anger. "You thought you could run away from *me*?"

Evangelina didn't have the strength to respond. Her body was too weak, too broken from days of torture, starvation, and the constant torment that Aemilio inflicted on her. She had begged, pleaded for him to stop, but her cries had fallen on deaf ears. Aemilio wasn't punishing her for disobedience—he was teaching her a lesson. One she wouldn't forget.

"Look at you," Aemilio sneered, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head back so that she had no choice but to meet his gaze. Pain shot through her scalp, but she bit her lip, refusing to cry out. She had learned not to give him the satisfaction. "This is where you belong. Here. In *my* mansion. Under *my* control. Don't ever think you can leave."

Evangelina's chest heaved with shallow breaths, her body trembling with a mixture of pain and cold. She wanted to fight back, to scream at him, to tell him that he could never truly own her. But the words died in her throat, swallowed by the sheer exhaustion that had taken hold of her. There was no point. He would only punish her more.

Aemilio's grip tightened, his fingers digging into her scalp as he leaned down, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "You're mine, Evangelina. And you will learn that one way or another."

Her vision blurred, and she felt the tears she had been holding back slip from the corners of her eyes. She hated herself for crying, for being so weak. But more than anything, she hated him. Hated the man who had taken everything from her—her freedom, her dignity, her sense of self. He had stripped her bare, leaving her with nothing but the hollow shell of who she used to be.

"Please," she croaked, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Please stop."

Aemilio released her hair, letting her head fall back against the cold, hard floor. He stood over her, his face hard and unforgiving. "You'll stay down here until you understand," he said, his tone cold and detached. "You don't belong out there. You belong to *me.*"

Evangelina's heart clenched at his words, the weight of his control pressing down on her like a vise. She wanted to scream, to shout that she didn't belong to anyone. But what good would that do? She was trapped. There was no escape. Not this time.

---

Days passed, or at least it felt like days. Time blurred together in the dungeon. The only markers of time were the brief moments when Aemilio would return, bringing with him more pain, more torment. Sometimes it was ice water, sometimes it was the cruel tug of her hair, and other times, it was the cold barrel of a gun pressed against her forehead.

"If you try to leave again," he hissed one night, the metal of the gun biting into her skin, "I won't hesitate to pull the trigger."

Evangelina had stared up at him, her lips trembling, her entire body numb with fear. She had no doubt that he meant every word. Aemilio was a man who thrived on control, on power. And she had defied him. That, in his eyes, was unforgivable.

"I won't," she whispered, her voice hoarse from days of begging and screaming for mercy. "I won't try again."

The gun remained pressed against her forehead for a long moment before Aemilio finally pulled it away, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. "Good," he said, standing up and turning to leave. "You're learning."

But Evangelina wasn't learning. She was surviving. Barely.

---

When she was alone, the dungeon was a prison of silence. The cold stone walls closed in on her, the darkness playing tricks on her mind. Sometimes, she would hear voices—faint whispers that echoed in her head, convincing her that she wasn't alone. But when she looked around, there was no one there. Only her.

And the hunger.

The gnawing pain in her stomach was constant, a dull ache that grew sharper with each passing hour. Aemilio had ordered that she be starved, and the guards had obeyed. Days without food left her weak, her body a shell of what it once was. She had tried to sleep through the hunger, but even sleep offered no relief. The hunger followed her there too, invading her dreams.

The only thing that kept her alive was the small scraps of food the maid had snuck to her. She had been kind, slipping bread and water to Evangelina when the guards weren't looking. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep her going, enough to keep her from slipping into unconsciousness entirely.

But then the maid had been caught. And she had been fired. Evangelina didn't know what would happen to her now, but she couldn't shake the fear that it could have been much worse.

"If Aemilio had caught her," Bruno had whispered to her one night when he came to check on her, "he would've shot her on the spot."

Evangelina had shuddered at his words, her body trembling as she lay curled up on the cold floor. She didn't want anyone to suffer for her. She didn't want anyone to risk their lives just to keep her alive. But what choice did she have? She couldn't escape. Not now.

---

Another day passed—at least, Evangelina thought it had. Her body was so weak, so drained of energy, that she couldn't even tell anymore. The hunger was unbearable now, a constant, gnawing pain that left her dizzy and disoriented. She could barely move, her limbs heavy and uncooperative.

When she slipped into unconsciousness, she welcomed it. It was the only escape she had left. But even that was short-lived.

The cold shock of ice water slammed her back into reality, her body jerking violently as the freezing liquid soaked her once again. She gasped, her teeth chattering as she struggled to breathe.

"Wake up," Aemilio's voice was a command, harsh and unyielding. "You don't get to escape this."

Evangelina's vision swam as she blinked up at him, her lips blue from the cold. She was too tired, too weak to fight anymore. She wanted to give up, to let go of the pain, the suffering, the fear. But Aemilio wouldn't let her. He wouldn't allow her the mercy of oblivion.

"You're mine, Evangelina," he whispered, his voice cold and unforgiving. "And you'll never be free."

Her body trembled, her heart aching with a deep, bone-deep sorrow. There was no way out. No escape. She was his. She would always be his.

A tear slipped down her cheek, mixing with the ice water that still clung to her skin. She had thought she could be free, that she could escape this nightmare. But now, she knew the truth.

There was no freedom. Not for her.

And in the darkness of the dungeon, Evangelina closed her eyes, her heart heavy with the weight of her captivity.