CHAPTER 4: The Breaking Point

Sophia's POV

I stood there, momentarily frozen as he glared at me like I was garbage.

“Breeding vessel...” My mouth opened before I could stop it. “Luca, I won't pretend to understand that because...”

Slap.

My head snapped to the side so fast I saw stars, and the taste of blood filled my mouth where my tooth cut my cheek.

“Run your fucking mouth at me again,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet, “and see what happens. You're nothing but a fucking breeder. So do your job and shut up.”

He walked out, and the door slammed behind him like a coffin lid closing on me.

I just stood there with one hand pressed against my swelling cheek, the other still clutching that stupid paper he squeezed.

My whole life I'd been so careful and studied extremely hard. Four years of pre-med, four years of medical school, I was only two months away from finishing my brutal surgical residency exams. I was “this” close to finally being a fully independent attending surgeon, free to save lives on my own terms.

Now, all those years of blood and sleepless nights were tossed aside, reducing me to nothing but a broodmare for a monster.

The tears came before I could stop them. They just leaked out like my eyes had finally given up the fight. I sank onto the bed where he'd... that night... and I cried.

I cried so hard my stomach hurt. I cried for my brothers who'd died in this stupid war between families. I cried for my cousins who'd had their futures stolen, and I cried for the version of myself who was supposed to walk across a stage in a few short weeks and accept her diploma with pride.

I cried for the baby inside me who would never know freedom.

“Signora?”

Maria stood in the doorway, her old eyes full of something that might have been pity.

She looked at my bruised cheek, at the tears streaming down my face, and she just sighed in that tired, defeated sigh of someone who'd seen too much suffering to be surprised by any of it anymore.

She came in, closed the door behind her, and sat down next to me on the bed.

“I was going to be a surgeon,” I whispered. “I was two months away from graduating. I had my whole life planned out.”

“It's okay, dear.”

“My family told me this would end the bloodshed. That I was making a sacrifice that mattered, that I was being brave.”

Maria's hand patted mine.

“And you were. You are. But life doesn't care about our plans, does it? It just keeps throwing things at us and hoping we're strong enough to survive.”

I laughed, and it came out broken.

“Strong enough. Maria, I can't even look at him without shaking. I can't eat, I can't sleep, and every time he walks into a room, I feel like I'm waiting for a blow that never quite stops coming.”

Before she could answer, the door flew open and Luca stood there, his cold gray eyes fixed on Maria.

“Get out. Now!”

Maria stood slowly, her old bones creaking.

“Mr. Rossi, perhaps if I could just...”

“I said get out.” He took a step toward her, and I saw her flinch, saw the fear flood her face. “Or would you prefer I fire you? Have you dealt with altogether?”

Maria left without another word, and she didn't look back.

Luca's attention shifted to me.

“Back in the bedroom. Now!”

***

Two months. That's how much time passed. Two months of being watched like a prisoner in my own husband's house. Two months of Luca coming to my room at night when he wanted, taking what he wanted, and leaving before morning.

I stopped resisting somewhere around week four. What was the point? He was stronger, he was richer, he had all the power in the world, and I had nothing but a growing belly and a medical degree I'd never get to use.

But I started planning.

The guards changed shifts at midnight. The back gate had a blind spot in the northeast corner where the motion sensor light had been broken for weeks. Maria had mentioned offhandedly that Luca had been meaning to fix it but kept forgetting.

She also mentioned that the fence wasn't as secure as it looked, with thin spots and weak points.

I committed every detail to memory and bided my time.

Tonight, the rain which had been going on for a while had finally stopped. Luca had come home late, later than usual, and he'd been drunk.

I waited until he shot his load in me and dozed off. I counted his breaths and listened for any sign he was faking.

He snored like a train. Couldn't fake that if you tried.

I slipped out of bed carefully, my bare feet silent on the cold floor.

My nightgown was thin and white, completely unsuitable for escaping, but I'd hidden clothes under the bathroom sink days ago. Black leggings, a dark sweater, and running shoes I'd stolen from one of the guards' storage areas.

I dressed in the dark as my hands shook while I laced the shoes, and my heart pounded so loud I was certain it would wake him.

Get it together, Sophia. You've gotten through two months of hell. You can get through ten more minutes.

I moved through the house as quietly as possible. I knew every creaking floorboard and every hinge that squeaked. I'd spent nights lying awake, mapping every detail of this prison.

The kitchen, the back hallway, and then the service door that led to the garden. I eased it open and stepped out into the night air.

It was cool and damp, the rain still dripping from the leaves above me. The garden was beautiful in the daytime, roses and fountains and all that expensive Italian landscaping, and at night, it was just shadows.

I ran for the fence.

My lungs burned by the time I reached the northeast corner, and there it was, just like Maria said. That broken light, casting flickering shadows over a section of chain-link that looked weaker than the rest.

I started climbing.

I'm getting you out of here, I thought. Whatever it takes.

“Hold it right there.”

I was over the top, one leg thrown over, when a voice cut through the darkness.

I froze, and my foot slipped.

Torchlight washed over my face, blinding me, and I threw up a hand to shield my eyes, my heart dropping into my stomach.

A pistol clicked.

“Don Rossi's wife?” one guard said to the other. “What do we have here?”

Two shapes stepped from the shadows. Big men, armed and looking at me like I'd just handed them a promotion.

“I can explain,” I started, my voice shaking. “I was just...”

One of them moved so fast I barely saw it.

His elbow connected with the other guard's temple. The man dropped like a stone, with the torch rolling away, casting wild shadows across the grass.

I stared open-mouthed, unable to process what just happened.

The remaining figure stepped closer. He had dirty blond hair, caramel-colored eyes, and a charming smile I recognized immediately.

Marco Capone. Luca's underboss. The man who was supposed to be his most loyal soldier.

“Go,” he said quietly. “I'll handle this.”

I hesitated fearfully.

His expression flickered, and something passed across those warm eyes that I couldn't read.

“Maybe I don't like watching cages. Now go. Before I change my mind.”

He turned, bending down to drag the unconscious guard toward the bushes.

I didn't question it. Maybe I should have. Maybe I should have demanded answers. But I was too busy running.

I went over the fence, landed hard on the other side with my knees screaming in pain, got up, and kept moving.

The house was behind me now and the road was ahead. I didn't know where I was going. I didn't know how far I'd get. I only knew I had to run.

What are you doing to us? I thought. What are you getting us into?

And then, smaller and colder than all the rest...

What will he do to my family when he finds me gone?!