Chapter Three

Julia's POV

"Jules." Lucian's voice was low and delicate, like he was whispering a secret just to me. The word fell from his lips like a secret, both familiar and unfamiliar, impossible to forget.

My heart wrenched terribly, and my muscles coiled. I spun toward him, my eyes flaming with a query I couldn't yet ask: how did he know that name? That nickname is one that only three people have ever dared to call me. The three meant everything to me.

I turned my head toward him, my eyes narrowing. "How do you know that?" I spat.

A frigid smile, brutal in its closeness, twisted his lips. "You don't remember me, do you?" His voice was low, almost seductive, but razor-sharp enough to cut through steel.

I rolled my eyes, attempting to conceal the crack in my courage. "Look, whoever you are, you do not own me. "Don't expect me to talk kindly."

His stare was steely, keen, and unreadable. "We need to work on how you speak to me, Julia." The coldness in his tone seemed like a whip striking my flesh.

I scoffed, summoning every last ounce of fire in me. "Or, what? Will you break me? "I am not scared of you."

He moved closer, his voice lowering to a menacing whisper. "You would be." Then he abruptly turned, signaling his men to open the car door.

Inside, the leather chairs reeked of expensive fragrance and power. He sat beside me without saying anything, his presence oppressive. I clenched my hands, my mind racing—this man knew things that only those closest to me did. My father's terror when he whispered "Lucian Moretti," the hushed cautions from my old family and friends, and the frightened eyes of my late mother whenever his name was spoken all contributed to my unease. But why did he recognize me? And why now?

The car drove, the city blurred by, but the quiet between us was deafening, and he finally broke it.

"You will follow my rules. Only respond when spoken to. Answer all questions without hesitation. "You will call me master now that you are mine," he said with a fierce and demanding gaze on mine.

My jaw tightened, and the words tasted like poison on my tongue. "I won't."

His hand flew out in a flash, hitting me hard on the face. The acute sting exploded hot and searing, and a tear streamed down my cheek, betraying me.

He watched it fall with an inscrutable look. Then, in a voice as cold as ice, he shouted, "Don't make me do that again. I'm sorry, but pushing me only causes agony.

Anger and terror warred within me, but I kept my voice steady. "Who are you, really?" Not only is everyone afraid of Don, but also of the man who calls me Jules. What did my father see in you that made him so fearful?

He said nothing, and I filled the stillness with the ghosts of my past, glimpses of a lad with blue eyes who used to laugh with me, and the warmth of a touch long gone. Could it be the same man? My mind raced, attempting to piece together memories I had buried deep.

The automobile slowed and pulled onto a quiet road. His phone rang abruptly, shattering the delicate bubble between us. He spoke briefly, then motioned to a tall, stone-faced man standing close.

"Watch her," Lucian said. "Don't allow her out of your sight. "I'll be back."

The man's eyes sparkled as he stepped forward, but I met his look with cold defiance. I wasn't finished fighting.

While alone with the guard, I pretended to be weak, gripping my chest with quivering hands. "I think I'm having an asthma attack," I muttered, straining to breathe convincingly.

He smirked, his expression careless. "Asthma, is that what you're saying? You expect me to care if you die here?"

My lips twisted up in a mocking smile. "You don't care, but if I die, what will happen? Will the Don be pleased?"

His sneer faded. "Get a grip."

I pressed my advantage, gasped more, and lurched towards him. When he leaned in to grab me, I struck back, kicking him hard in the crotch and robbing his breath, causing him to topple over with a painful groan.

Before he could recover, I snatched his gun and slammed it into his temple, leaving a horrible crack as he collapsed. I didn't wait; I bolted.

"Code Red! Find her!" The guard behind me screamed. "If the don finds out she escaped, we're all dead!" The guard behind me screamed.

My lungs burned, adrenaline fueling every desperate stride as I darted through the villa's dark nooks, my breath ragged and my heart hammering like a war drum. I scrambled up to the fence edge, feeling the acute sting of a twisted ankle as I dropped hard to the ground.

The pain seared, and I gasped, gripping my ankle, tears blurring my vision. An elderly man sat slumped on a bench nearby, holding a bottle. His eye flashed open, and for a minute, pity softened his expression.

"Help me," I cried, my voice cracking but still earnest. "They abducted me. Please."

He moaned and sat up slowly, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the revolver in my palm and the blood on my skin. "Pretty girl with a weapon, huh?" His breath reeked of alcohol.

I attempted to stand, but the pain buckled my leg. Before I could respond, he shoved me.

"Let me go!" I yelped in anguish, gripping my side. He smirked viciously as he leveled the rifle at my face. I lurched backwards, my heart beating in panic. At that moment, I realized that I needed to stop trusting people so easily.

The few people I loved had betrayed every confidence I had in them, and I found it amusing that this old man would do the same.

Without warning, his boot smashed into my side, knocking the air out of my lungs. I screamed, holding my ribs, powerless as he reached for his revolver. The last thing I remember was cold steel striking me, blackness swallowing me whole, and pain filling me up; I'd never experienced anything like these feelings before. I assumed the present was the end, and this is where I would end it. I felt his hand under my thigh, reaching for my panties; he was about to strip me of my dignity.

I didn't have the strength to defend myself and couldn't fight back. I despised how the world treated me unfairly, exploiting guys.

Then, a single gunshot pierced the night. The old guy collapsed, blood spilling across his shirt, and a shadowy creature emerged. A man with ice-cold eyes stood there, exuding a calm yet dangerous presence. He stood over the fallen danger and gently turned toward me.

As this pandemonium unfolds, my mind is filled with fear, grief, and desperate hope. Why is Lucian's voice still echoing in my head? That nickname, Jules, so intimate and taboo.

Why has he saved me now, after everything? Is he my enemy or my last hope?

Every breath burns, every stride hurts, but I refuse to stop or give up. The fire inside me refuses to die; I will find my father, confront the truth, and escape this nightmare, even if it kills me.