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ELENA’S POV
The rain came down in sheets, hammering against the hospital windows as if even the sky had lost patience with this city. My shift had ended hours late, and every muscle in my body screamed from standing too long, smiling too hard, caring for patients who barely noticed me. My scrubs clung damp to my skin, and my shoes squelched faintly with every step I took across the hospital courtyard toward the waiting cab. I wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed. But not my bed. Ours. The one place that felt like sanctuary. Matteo. The thought of him was the only thread holding me together as I pushed open the cab door and slid inside. My chest ached with relief at the idea of walking into his arms, hearing his stupid jokes, letting his warmth drown out the echoes of Dr. Gavin’s biting remarks and the endless complaints of patients who thought nurses were nothing but disposable servants. He was my peace. My reprieve. The one good thing I still had left in this world. The cab rattled through the streets, headlights smearing across the soaked asphalt. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I didn’t need to look. It would be my mother again, reminding me of the “opportunity” she insisted I couldn’t refuse—a marriage arrangement with a Camorra man old enough to be my grandfather. I’d told her a hundred times no, but still she pressed. Still she nagged. Still she made me feel like little more than cattle to be traded. I ignored the call. Tonight I wasn’t going to think about her, or them, or the life they wanted me shackled to. I was going home to Matteo. My Matteo. The cab dropped me in front of the apartment building, the kind that hundred tiredly under peeling paint and flickering lights. I clutched the grocery bag tighter to my chest as I hurried up the steps, water dripping from my hair into my eyes. The elevator smelled faintly of rust and old cigarettes, groaning as it pulled me upward. By the time I unlocked our door, I was rehearsing what I’d say to him. Babe, you wouldn’t believe the day I had. Or maybe, I bought the pasta you like, though God knows it tastes like cardboard. Anything, really—words that meant nothing, because what mattered was simply being with him. “Babe?” My voice echoed in the dark apartment as I stepped inside. “I’m back. You won’t believe—” The words caught in my throat. The apartment was silent. Too silent. No soft hum of the television. No clatter of dishes in the sink. Frowning, I shut the door behind me, juggling the groceries. “Matteo? Don’t tell me you’re pulling one of your pranks again. I’m too tired to—” I reached for the light switch and flicked it on. The world collapsed. He was there—in the middle of the living room. Bound to a chair. His face swollen, split at the lip, one eye already purpling shut. His wrists were tied so tight behind him that angry welts marked his skin. His chest heaved as though every breath cost him something. “Babe!” The groceries fell from my hands, apples rolling across the floor, bread tearing open on impact. I lunged toward him, my hands shaking, desperate to free him. “Oh my God, what happened? Who did this to you?” “You’re back.” The voice was cold steel, sliding across my spine. I froze, every muscle locking in place. Slowly, I turned. Men stepped out from the shadows of our apartment—three, four, maybe more. They filled the room with the kind of menace that pressed the air out of my lungs. The man at the front wore a suit too sharp for this place, dark eyes gleaming like a predator’s. He carried himself with the ease of someone who knew fear followed him everywhere. “Who are you?” My voice trembled despite me. “What do you want from my boyfriend? You need to leave him alone!” The man smirked, a cruel curl of lips. “Interesting! I bet she doesn’t know, huh?” “Know what?” I demanded, looking between him and Matteo. “Tell me what’s happening!” Matteo groaned, trying to lift his head. “Elena, I—” “Quiet.” The man’s command cracked through the air. He stepped closer, boots clicking softly on the floor. “Your boyfriend here owes us money. A lot of money. And since he’s proven incapable of paying… he offered something else instead.” Ice spread through my veins. I looked at Matteo, searching his battered face for denial, for explanation, for anything. “Tell me he’s lying. Please, just—tell me.” Matteo’s eyes glistened with something that wasn’t quite guilt, wasn’t quite shame. His voice cracked when he spoke. “Baby, I didn’t have a choice. I needed the money. For us. For our future.” The words hit like knives. “Our future?” I choked out, tears stinging my eyes. “You borrowed from the Mafia for our future? Are you insane?” The suited man chuckled darkly. “Ah, but that’s not the best part. He didn’t just borrow. He gambled it and lost every cent. And when it came time to repay, he signed a different kind of contract.” My stomach dropped. “What contract?” The man’s smile widened, all teeth and cruelty. “You.” The floor tilted beneath me. I shook my head, stepping back as though distance could make the words untrue. “No. No, that’s—he wouldn’t—” “Babe,” Matteo gasped. His lip trembled, blood staining his teeth. “I had no choice. I swear, I’ll fix it. Just give me a few days, and I’ll get the money and come for you. I’ll—” “Shut up!” I screamed, tears spilling hot down my face. My knees threatened to give out beneath me. “You sold me? You—God, you told me you loved me! And now—you—” My words broke into sobs I couldn’t stop. I turned to the Mafia boss, hands shaking as I clasped them together. “Please. Please don’t do this. I’ll find the money. I’ll pay you back myself. Just give me time.” He tilted his head, amused. “And how does a little nurse plan to repay five hundred thousand euros?” The number hollowed me out. I couldn’t even imagine that much money, not in a lifetime. My chest caved as reality crashed over me. “Jesus…” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Please. Don’t take me. I’ll find a way. Please!” He stepped close enough that I could feel the heat of him, the smell of smoke and leather clinging to his suit. His hand caught my chin, forcing me to meet his dark, merciless eyes. “You already belong to us,” he whispered. “Your boyfriend sold you, already. You are our property now.” “No,” I sobbed, trying to wrench free. “No, please—” Matteo struggled against the ropes, his voice raw. “Baby, forgive me! I’ll fix this, I swear!” I shook my head, rage burning the tears. “What have I ever done to deserve this? Don’t I do enough? Why—” Pain exploded at the side of my head. The world spun, colors smearing into black. My body crumpled, knees hitting the floor, the last sound I heard was Matteo screaming my name as darkness swallowed me whole.ELENA’S POV“You’re still as loud as ever.” His voice was smooth, arrogant, the kind of voice that didn’t ask, it declared. The words wrapped around me like a noose, pulling tighter with every second I stood there in his shadow. Enzo—Il Diavolo. The man who I’d saved five years ago. The man who had thrown five million euros like it was loose change just to claim me. My pulse pounded against my ribs, panic and fury crashing together until it burned my lungs to breathe. I jerked against the hands holding me, shoving, scratching, clawing at anything I could reach. “Let me go!” I screamed. “You can’t keep me here against my will. You don’t own me!” Enzo didn’t flinch. He sat sprawled in his leather chair, a glass of whiskey balanced between his fingers like the world belonged to him. Cold eyes, dark and merciless, dragged over me in a way that stripped me bare. He didn’t even bother standing. Without a glance, he flicked his wrist at the men stationed by the door. “Leave us.” The
ENZO’S POVTwo hundred thousand. The moment I said it, silence devoured the room. The air snapped taut, the weight of my voice dragging every pair of eyes toward me. Glasses clinked against tables, chairs scraped. The auctioneer froze mid-gesture, his jaw slack, his hand trembling where it hovered above his little hammer. I didn’t need to look to know what they saw: a ghost made flesh. I stepped forward from the shadows, every stride deliberate, the soles of my polished shoes echoing like gunshots across marble. And then, because I fucking could, I slid into the empty chair beside Dante Moretti himself, unhurried, deliberate, as though the whole damn world had been waiting for me to sit. In truth, they had. The fool stiffened like he’d swallowed glass. His expensive suit couldn’t mask the way his shoulders coiled tight, or how his jaw ticked when I smirked at him. I leaned back casually, one arm thrown over the chair, the other adjusting my cufflink. “Don’t stop on my account,” I
ELENA’S POVI woke to darkness. Not the kind of darkness that comes with nightfall, but the suffocating kind that pressed against my eyes. A blindfold dug into my skin, rough fabric scraping each time I moved. My wrists ached, bound behind my back with something biting and sharp. Rope, maybe. Metal. I don’t know. All I knew was that I couldn’t see, I couldn’t move, and my chest burned with fear. Voices echoed around me—men, deep and gravelly, laughing trading words I couldn’t quite catch. Somewhere closer, I heard a girl sobbing, a sharp cry muffled by a slap. Panic clawed at my throat. Where was I? What are they planning on doing with me? My breath quickened. The memories came flooding back. That face. Matteo’s face. The man I had loved for two years. I still can’t believe that he would do this to me. I know he was just spitting bullshit when he said he would come back for me. Matteo had never worked a fucking day in his life, how was he going to find five hundred thousand euros
ELENA’S POV The rain came down in sheets, hammering against the hospital windows as if even the sky had lost patience with this city. My shift had ended hours late, and every muscle in my body screamed from standing too long, smiling too hard, caring for patients who barely noticed me. My scrubs clung damp to my skin, and my shoes squelched faintly with every step I took across the hospital courtyard toward the waiting cab. I wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed. But not my bed. Ours. The one place that felt like sanctuary. Matteo. The thought of him was the only thread holding me together as I pushed open the cab door and slid inside. My chest ached with relief at the idea of walking into his arms, hearing his stupid jokes, letting his warmth drown out the echoes of Dr. Gavin’s biting remarks and the endless complaints of patients who thought nurses were nothing but disposable servants. He was my peace. My reprieve. The one good thing I still had left in this world. Th







