Eli’s POVThe forest was thick with fog as we ran.Every step away from the mansion felt like shedding a layer of weight. Luca held my hand tightly, his grip fierce but grounding. Matteo moved ahead of us like a silent shadow, clearing our path through the underbrush with his blade. Ricardo covered our rear, a pistol clutched tightly in his gloved hand.We didn’t speak.Didn’t breathe too loudly.Only the rhythmic crunch of leaves and the distant bangs of gunshot reminded us of where we were, why we needed to stay alive and moving.My chest burned with adrenaline, heart still rattling from the explosion, from the fire, from the fact that I had looked my mother in the eye and lied to her face and that she’d believed me.“She bought it?” I whispered to Luca as we ducked beneath a fallen log.His eyes flicked toward me, sharp and proud. “You were perfect.”Matteo snorted up ahead. “You looked more like an exasperated boyfriend than a loyal son.”“I had to keep a straight face,” I muttere
Eli’s POVThe house smelled like lavender and cinnamon this time.Sunlight streamed through the tall stained-glass windows, casting gentle colors of red and gold across the polished marble floor. The day was quiet. Too quiet. And the silence felt artificial, like a staged performance—Evangeline’s attempt to paint captivity as luxury.I stood on the balcony overlooking the garden, a cup of chamomile tea cradled in my hands like I might believe it was given out of motherly love rather than manipulation.She’d brought me breakfast this morning herself.An actual tray—with croissants, fruit, warm eggs, a little note in swirling cursive that read “My son deserves the world.”I’d smiled.And then flushed it down the toilet when she left.She was trying hard today. Too hard.It was almost funny.The psychotic woman who’d ordered the massacre of her own Mafia bloodline, kidnapped her son, and used another like a weapon—was now offering motherly bonding moments like we were starring in a chees
Eli’s POVI was trimming a dead leaf from one of the garden’s many strange-looking plants when I heard the soft click of her heels.Evangeline.I didn’t need to turn. I could feel her presence like a cold breeze of air slipping into the room. Silent. Intentional.“Good morning, Elias,” she said smoothly, her voice was just as sweet and nauseating as always but it has an edge today. She wanted something. “Enjoying the quiet?”I hummed, trying to appear distracted by a white lily that had started to wilt at the edges. “It’s peaceful,” I said. “Like a dream. I have never seen a garden so beautiful…”Mother? No.“You must have a very dedicated gardener tending to these beauties.” I finished.She laughed. “So beautiful and yet, so many nightmares were birthed in gardens.”I finally turned to her, brows raised. “Is this where you plan to kill me, then?”Her smile was ice. “Don’t be dramatic, son. I'm just saying. You know in movies the bodies are always found in the gardens.”I stared at he
Eli’s POVThe morning light barely warmed the marble floors as I sat through another performance.Evangeline sat opposite me at the breakfast table, slicing into a poached pear like we were on some mother-son bonding retreat instead of prisoner and captor. Her robe shimmered, silver and black, her long hair pinned into a tight bun that exposed every sharp bone in her face.“You’ve always been so… quiet,” she said as she set her fork down. “Even as a baby. You’d just watch everything. Analyze. You were different from Silas. Always thinking.”I bit into the edge of a croissant, nodding like I cared.“Do you know what I used to call you?” she went on, voice soft, wistful. “My little king.”My stomach twisted.She smiled. “I saw it in your eyes. Even when you couldn’t speak yet. The future. The power. You were never meant for a simple life, Elias. Never.”I chewed slower, jaw tight. “Is that why you put a chip in my brain?”She didn’t flinch. “That was for your protection.”I blinked at h
Eli’s POVThe room was too quiet.Not the kind of silence that brought peace—but the kind that crawled into your skin and made it itch.Evangeline’s parlor was a pristine work of art. Velvet couches, golden drapes, a grand piano in one corner, and a crystal decanter of wine breathing on the table between us. The room smelled of roses and something sweeter—like decay hidden beneath perfume.She sat with a regal pose, legs crossed at the ankle, hands folded in her lap. Her eyes never left mine. They gleamed like a serpent’s. Kind. Cold. Calculating.“Do you know what your father and I dreamed of?” she asked, voice lilting like a song. “We dreamed of a world led not by brutes or outdated codes. But by visionaries. By architects.”I nodded slowly. “Architects?”Her smile spread. “Yes. We were going to build something beautiful. Something the world had never seen. An empire—more than just blood and bullets. A legacy of control. Quiet power. Real influence.”Her words poured out like she ac
Eli’s POVThe first thing I noticed was the silence.No echo of footsteps. No beeping monitors. No clang of cell bars or sterile scent of antiseptic. Just… silence.And softness.My back pressed into a mattress that might have been made of clouds. There were velvet sheets around me, thick and warm. My wrists weren’t shackled. No blood crusted on my skin. Just clean pajamas I didn’t remember putting on, and the gentle hum of a chandelier swaying overhead.Where the hell was I?I forced my eyes to stay half-lidded, feigning unconsciousness, breathing slow and steady. My mind raced as I took in my surroundings through the slit of my lashes.Golden curtains fluttered at tall glass windows. Marble floors gleamed beneath the morning sun. A big wardrobe stood in one corner. And across the room, just beyond the open door, I caught a familiar scent—roses.Too familiar.Evangeline.My stomach turned.I waited for a guard. A heavy hand to restrain me. Maybe a bucket of cold water. Something to r