Time is a cruel joke when you’re a captive.
Eat. Nap. Pace. Repeat. But I’m done waiting. If I stay here, I’m dead.
I’ve tried to come up with a plan, but every potential way of escaping seems impossible. How the hell do I get out?
My only real resource is the battered cot. Rusty metal wire and a sagging mattress too thin to do anything but make me aware of every bone in my body.
I’ve spent the last several hours trying to loosen one of the skinny metal wires on the frame. One final tug finally frees it. The release comes so suddenly I almost topple over. I swallow a triumphant gasp, afraid someone might hear.
The wire is a pitiful weapon, but it’s all I’ve got right now. I need to protect my baby, and that means improvising. I can’t count on being released. Not from Luca, definitely not from Linda.
Being rescued by Dante… my heart aches at the thought. I don’t even know if he’s looking for me.
I creep to the door and kneel, pressing my ear against the thin opening between the bottom of the door and the floor. Silence. No footsteps, no muffled voices. Good. Whoever’s on guard duty might’ve stepped out to smoke, or Linda sent them off to run errands. Either way, this has to be my shot.
Slowly, I inch the wire under the doorknob, working at the lock. I read somewhere once that you can slip a slender piece of metal into older locks and pop the latch. I’m about to find out if that was nothing more than pure internet myth.
A nerve-racking minute passes as my hands shake and my heart pounds. Come on, come on. Suddenly, the wire shifts with a soft click. I hold my breath, easing the door handle down, and it actually gives. A surge of adrenaline shoots through me so potent I have to cover my mouth to stifle my cry of relief.
I pull the door open a fraction of an inch and peer through the gap. A pitch-black corridor greets me, the only light coming from the flickering bulb above my cell. I sense no movement, every fiber in me screaming to run. But I have to be smart about this. One wrong step, and I’m back in that room—or worse.
I slip out, leaving the door ajar in case I need to quickly dart back inside. My chest feels tight, every step a small victory. I pass a couple of doors I hadn’t noticed before, all locked. The hallway still reeks of mildew and stale air. The basement layout is small, and I’m able to see the narrow staircase leading upward in no time.
I cautiously test the first step. It creaks. Great. I brace my hand on the wall for balance, moving slowly, trying desperately not to make a sound.
One step. Two steps. Three…
The door at the top of the stairs bursts open, flooding the stairwell with jarring fluorescent light.
I freeze, clutching the wire in one sweaty hand as if it were a lifeline.
Gianni Lombardi appears, gun in hand, disgust carved into his face. He spots me, eyes flaring in surprise.
“What the—?”
Fuck.
I move on pure adrenaline, dropping low against the wall to minimize the target I present. The roar of a gunshot explodes, the bullet hitting the wall, showering me with dust and tiny shards. My ears ring so loudly I barely hear my own scream.
Heart thundering, I scramble back down the steps, practically falling as I do so. Lombardi jumps down after me, two stairs at a time, his footsteps heavy and determined. The basement corridor is a dead end, but I keep moving, searching for somewhere—anywhere—to hide.
If I go back to my cell I’m surely dead.
Another shot ricochets off the cinder-block wall, sparks flying. I can taste gunpowder in the stale air.
“If you kill me, you have no leverage!” I yell, ducking low on the ground.
He snarls something, ignoring me. I push off the floor, adrenaline surging, and sprint around a corner I hadn’t noticed before. It’s semi-dark, so I have to feel along the walls to find my way.
My hands find a single locked door. I’m trapped. Gianni’s footsteps are closing in, and my heart threatens to burst.
I spin around, gripping the wire in both hands. If I can’t run, I can fight. It’s not exactly a fair match—he’s got a gun, I’ve got an old rusty wire. But I’ve also got something he doesn’t—the desperation of a woman determined to protect her baby.
Gianni rounds the corner, gun extended in front of him, his lips curled in disgust. “Stupid girl. Linda told me you might try something, but I figured you’d given up.”
“You figured wrong,” I hiss. “Get out of my way.”
He shakes his head and chuckles. “We can’t have you scampering off. You’re part of a bigger plan.”
“Well, that plan goes to shit if you kill me, dumbass” I snap, edging left.
He sidesteps, keeping the gun leveled at my head. “Don’t move.”
I ignore him, faking a lunge to the right. He jerks, giving me a split second to dart left. I swing the wire, aiming for his wrist. He blocks it with a forearm, but I keep pushing. I slam my knee forward, aiming for his groin, but he twists, catching my leg. He wrenches me forward, slamming me into the wall. Stars explode in my vision, the breath knocked from my lungs. My wire clatters to the floor.
“Enough,” Gianni snarls, pressing the cold barrel of the gun to my cheek.
My face throbs, the metallic taste of blood coating my tongue, and I realize my lip is split. I choke back a sob of frustration. Don’t cry, Eva, don’t give him the satisfaction.
He sighs loudly. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth.”
Before I can reply, footsteps thunder down the stairs. Gianni glances over his shoulder, my gaze following. Linda appears, hair flawless, clothes pristine. She looks at us, tsking in disapproval.
“Gianni, really. I said to keep her alive, not decorate her with bullet holes. You men and your itchy trigger fingers.”
I can’t help but taunt her. “Let me guess, you want to kill me yourself.”
Linda’s lips curl into a malevolent smile. “You’re more clever than you look, aren’t you? Drop the gun, Gianni. You don’t want to rob me of my fun, do you?”
He scoffs but lowers the weapon. I cough, blood spattering the floor as I step away from the wall. My side screams in protest, but I ignore it, trying to maintain an air of calm and strength.
Linda strolls forward, taking in the scattered bullet casings, the chipped concrete, and my disheveled state. “You tried to escape. How adorable. Did you actually think you’d make it beyond the front door?”
“Better than just sitting around waiting to die.”
She laughs, a cold, haughty sound. “You poor, deluded creature. You were never going to leave here alive.” Then she studies my face, noticing the bruise on my cheek and the blood on my lip. “Looks like Gianni roughed you up a bit.” Turning to him she says, “Let’s not break her completely. I want her conscious for the grand finale.”
“Grand finale?” My voice trembles a bit despite my best effort.
She flashes that snake-like grin. “You should know by now that I do love a bit of drama. You stole Dante from me, you worthless slut. You flaunted that bastard you’re carrying around like it’s some ticket to the Bellacino throne. Did you truly believe Dante would choose you over everything he’s built with me?”
I grit my teeth. “You’re delusional. He didn’t exactly choose me, Linda. Not the way you think. Also, if you believe I’m with Dante and pregnant with his child because I’m after his throne, you need to see a goddamn therapist.”
She stiffens, a flicker of rage crossing her face. “I’m not the one who needs help, dear. I’m not the one being held captive in a basement. Look at you—pathetic, battered, and at my mercy.” She steps closer, eyes gleaming. “Ever wonder why Luca threw you aside? You’re nothing but a passing distraction. A convenience. A warm body.”
Fury begins to build. “Oh, honey, you think I’m the passing distraction? At least I don’t revolve my entire existence around a man who ditched me decades ago. You’re still pining after Dante like some high-school reject, getting jealous over the new girl at prom.”
She inhales sharply, fist clenching in anger. “You stupid, fat—”
“You are nothing more than a shallow, gold-digging, silicone- and Botox-stuffed has-been, clinging to your lost youth,” I cut her off, done with her insults. “At least I know who I am. You’re so desperate for validation you’ll ride your idiot son’s coattails just to feel important.”
Her eyes burn with hatred. For a second, I think she’s going to slap me again, but she just clenches her jaw. “I don’t need your psychoanalysis.”
I roll my eyes. “Because you’re clearly so well-adjusted.”
Gianni snorts. I’d imagine he’s not used to seeing Linda get verbally smacked around.
Linda composes herself with visible effort, smoothing her hair, and straightening her jacket. “Your mouth is going to get you killed.”
“Yeah, well, if I’m dying anyway, might as well tell some truths while I’m at it.” I shrug, my voice even though fear churns in my gut. My entire body aches, my head throbs, and blood trickles down my chin, but I’m not backing down.
Linda levels me with a frosty stare. “I could kill you right now. I should kill you. One command, and Gianni won’t hesitate.”
I raise my chin in defiance. “Then do it. Or shut up and accept that you need me alive for whatever twisted plan you and Luca cooked up. What is it? Ransom? Leverage? If you think you’re going to get anything from Dante by trying to play him, you clearly don’t know him half as well as you think.”
She glares at me. “Enough. Gianni, take her back to her cell—gently. We can’t have her bleeding out before I decide how big of a spectacle I want to make this.”
He nods, stepping toward me, gun still in hand. “Try any more stunts, and I’ll make the rest of your stay very uncomfortable.”
“Oh, because it’s so cozy now,” I mutter.
Linda waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t waste your breath on her, Gianni.” Then she smirks at me. “Enjoy the last few hours you have alive, bitch. We’ll see how tough you are when you’re on your knees, begging for mercy.”
Gianni forces me back down the corridor, through the gloom of flickering bulbs. My attempt at escape ends when he shoves me roughly into my cell, the steel door slamming shut. I stagger, catching myself on the concrete wall. The lock scrapes into place, final and cruel.
My breath comes in ragged gasps, adrenaline still buzzing through my veins. My cheek throbs, my lip stings, my leg muscles quiver. I’m back where I started in this basement prison, no windows, no hope.
But at least I’m alive.
For now.
I press a hand to my belly, the reality of the close call finally hitting me. My baby squirms—a faint, fluttering motion that should bring me joy but instead sets me on edge. I should be somewhere safe, not locked in a grimy basement with psychopaths deciding my expiration date.
Despite the dire circumstances, I still feel something raw and fierce flicker in my chest. Linda can try to humiliate me all she wants, and Gianni can point a gun at my head, but I will not give up. I can’t. This child deserves better.
I lift my chin, wiping the blood with the back of my hand. My entire body trembles in fear and frustration, but my mind is strangely clear.
I whisper to the empty room. “Better luck next time.”
My voice wavers, turning into a half laugh, half sob. I refuse to break. If Linda wants a showdown, she’ll get it. I’ve got nothing to lose but my life and ultimately my baby’s life—and that’s exactly what makes me dangerous.
I limp to the cot and sink onto it, the frame protesting with an eerie creak. My pulse is still racing, mind spinning with possible plans. The next time Gianni or Linda waltzes in, I’ll be more prepared. Maybe I can lure them closer, distract them long enough to grab their weapon. If I can disarm them, perhaps I’ll be able to find another way out.
There has to be another way out.
I rest a shaky hand on my belly again, my baby the only source of comfort. I swallow the knots in my throat. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “We’re going to get through this. One way or another.”
Linda can gloat all she wants, but this isn’t over.
If she wants my blood, she’ll have to fight for it.
