𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐭 𝐃𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐚
25 years old, a billionaire and Mafia Don. Everyone fears, admires and respects him.
𝐒𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐬
20 years old and works in a bakery. Despite having a bad past, she is a really sweet and down-to-earth per...
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The frosty air in the cellar was thick, heavy with the stench of mold and metal. I sat in the corner with my knees pulled up, arms chained back against the wall like I was some feral animal.
My body ached too, stomach throbbing in waves from where that sick freak had kicked me hours ago. Or had it been days? I didn't really know. It felt like time didn't exist down here. I had passed most of my time either zoning out or thinking, about how worse my life manages to get each time.
I pressed my forehead against the cold silk covering my knee, grimacing at how I was stillin the dress I had worn in the ball. It felt uncomfortable now, especially with the predatory stares of those filthy men prying over me.
The only thing that kept me sane was the dagger strapped against my thigh - the one that Nikolai was yet to know that I still carried - and the miserable hope for either Elliott or Sebastian to take me out of this hellhole. However, as time dragged out more, I was beginning to think whether I could even get out of here alive.
A deep sigh slipped past my lips, suddenly stilling when a abrupt sound reverberated. It was a grinding screech which cut right through the silence.
My breath stopped.
The massive iron door across the cellar began to slide open, subtle light seeping through the opening.
No. No. No.
Why were they coming in again?
I blinked against the burning stream of dim yellow light that spilled into the darkness, my brain wracking through all the possibilities of why they might be coming in here. My heart slammed into my ribs like it was trying to break out of my chest, making out two large figures slipping inside with heavy step.
Guards.
They were dressed in sleek black tactical gear, rifles strapped across their chests. One had a faint scar running from his cheekbone to his jaw. The other wore a black balaclava with only his stony eyes visible.
"What do you want?" I instinctively shuffled back into the wall, the clinking of my shackles betraying the panic rising within me as they neared me. "What are you doing?"
Neither of them answered, but slowly crouched down and unlocked the shackles binding my forearms with a thick iron key. The moment my wrists were free, they seized me up to my feet roughly without giving me a chance to protest.
"Hey! Wait-" I tried to resist, but they were already dragging me outside with a strength that I couldn't physically compete against. My legs were shaky and numb from sitting down for so long, barely holding me stable. And the faint pain in my stomach screamed louder than I could with my dry throat.
