Not your first time

Amelie’s POV

I don’t know how long I stayed this way, the brothers going in and out randomly like they expected me to break the next time they walked in.

The cold metal of the cuffs bit into my wrists, the pressure making my hands go numb. My shoulders ached from being held in the same position for too long, but I refused to show weakness. Not in front of them.

If I showed even the slightest weakness, they’d use it against me, assuming I was about to break. And I couldn’t let that happen.

Luca stood in front of me, his gray eyes sharp, calculating. I always wondered what went on in his head when he stared at someone like that. It seemed as if he could read straight into your soul, but I knew better.

Matteo leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his usual smirk tugging at his lips. And Nico… he was watching. Always watching. He never said much—just observed.

“I’ll ask one more time,” Luca said, his voice dangerously calm. “Tell us about your father. His allies, his movements.”

Like my father would ever tell me anything like that. I rolled my eyes mentally. I barely saw him as it was, let alone knew his exact plans.

But the look on their faces told me they weren’t going to take that as an answer.

I met Luca’s stare, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Go to hell.”

Matteo chuckled, pushing off the wall. “You first, little sister.”

He moved closer, stopping just before me. Slowly, he raised a hand to my face. I recoiled when his fingers brushed my skin, but there was nowhere to go. His touch trailed along my jaw—slow, deliberate, as if testing my reaction.

I refused to flinch. Refused to let him see that his touch sent a shiver down my spine—whether from fear or something else, I didn’t know. But I wasn’t about to let him have the satisfaction of seeing a reaction.

“You’re strong,” Matteo murmured, tilting my chin up. “But even the strongest break.”

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. He wanted to see me break at all costs, wanted to see me fold. But I wouldn’t.

Luca sighed, as if already bored with my defiance. Then he pulled out a knife.

My eyes followed the movement, widening just a fraction. I didn’t dare ask why he had it—I just watched as he stepped closer.

The dim light flickered against the blade as he dragged the blunt edge along my arm. Not cutting—just a warning. His eyes stayed on my face, watching, waiting for a crack in my composure.

“Let’s see how much loyalty you really have.”

I didn’t react. I wasn’t certain if Luca would actually go through with it. And I wasn’t sure how long I could keep up this brave act before I found out.

Surrounded by all three brothers, I had no idea how to handle this. Each of them seemed to have their own method of getting me to talk.

Matteo leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Or maybe pain isn’t the only way to make you talk.”

My stomach twisted, but I kept my expression blank. I knew exactly what this was. Mind games. That’s all it was.

If they wanted to break me, they’d have to try harder.

My father had trained me for worse. Much worse. But we wouldn’t be going into details on that.

I exhaled shakily, forcing myself to think. If I wanted a chance to escape, I needed them to believe I was breaking. I needed them to think they had me exactly where they wanted—even if that was far from the truth.

Because the second I had an opening, I was taking it.

“Fine,” I whispered, letting my shoulders slump.

Luca raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing me. He was trying to tell if I had actually given in or if this was an act.

“I’ll tell you something.” My voice trembled slightly—just enough to sound believable.

Matteo’s smirk widened like he’d won some kind of game. Idiot.

He actually believed it. Not that I was surprised. But he wasn’t my problem.

The real challenge was getting Luca and Nico to believe me.

I made the mistake of glancing at Nico, only to find his dark gaze locked on me. My stomach twisted, and I quickly looked away. I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not.

But what I did know was that staring into his eyes would do me more harm than good.

Luca stepped back, gesturing for me to continue. They were waiting.

So I let the words spill out.

I gave them minor details—small, insignificant things about my father’s operations. Just enough to keep them interested. Just enough to keep them from realizing I was stalling.

Truth was, I didn’t know anything major about my father’s mafia. Even if they tortured me, I had nothing to give.

Nico tilted his head slightly, his dark gaze pinning me in place. He didn’t say a word, but I could tell he wasn’t convinced.

I ignored him.

For now, I’d done what I needed to do. They thought I was starting to break.

They wouldn’t be as careful anymore.

After wringing all the information they could from me, the brothers left, shutting the door behind them.

The room was silent except for the faint dripping of water in the distance. The cuffs around my wrists had been loosened—a mistake.

Matteo had seen how uncomfortable they made me and had loosened them.

I waited. Counted the seconds. Listened for movement outside the door.

When I was certain no one was nearby, I acted.

Biting down hard on my lip, I counted down from ten before jerking my thumb out of place—dislocating it with a sharp, sickening pop.

Pain exploded up my arm, but I swallowed the scream, breathing through my nose. Tears burned in my eyes, sliding down my face as I struggled to keep quiet.

I slipped my hand free.

One down.

I bit into my lip again, bracing myself as I did the same with my other thumb. Another burst of pain, another sharp inhale—then I was free.

The cuffs clattered to the floor, the sound deafening in the silence.

Ignoring the throbbing in my hands, I reached for the small knife left carelessly on a nearby table.

Idiots.

They kept making things easier and easier for me. And I wasn’t complaining.

One step. Then another.

I pulled the door open, stepping out of the room.

The first thing I saw was a staircase stretching upward. Meaning I was in some sort of basement.

The air was thick with the scent of damp stone, my pulse hammering as I crept toward the light.

I had almost made it. Almost.

Then a hand wrapped around my wrist, stopping me cold.

I spun around, my stolen knife aimed at whoever had caught me—

Only to find Nico staring at me.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even move. Just watched.

Watched me with those dark, knowing eyes.

The blade hovered just inches from his throat. My breath came in fast, shallow pants.

“Move,” I whispered.

He didn’t.

I could kill him. I should kill him. But somehow… he knew I wouldn’t.

The silence stretched between us, tension coiling like a noose. Then, finally, Nico spoke.

“If you want to leave,” he said, voice low, unreadable, “you’ll have to kill me first.”

My grip on the knife tightened.

Then, slowly, his lips curled into a dark smile.

“After all,” he added, his voice a cruel whisper, “it wouldn’t be your first attempt.”

Shit.