Chapter 6: The Cost of Loyalty

Lana’s POV

I jog through the quiet streets; with everything going on, I couldn’t get proper sleep. It’s barely 6 a.m. One more day. Just one more day until I move in with Charles again.

It’s all I’ve ever wanted—to go back to the feeling of safety, of belonging. Living with him was the closest I’d ever felt to having a family. Feeling loved. And now, after everything, I’ll have that again.

The thought makes me smile as I round the corner, but my smile disappears when I notice something strange—a black SUV just right behind me. At first, I thought it’s a coincidence. Maybe someone is heading to work early.

But every turn I make, it makes too.

I slow my pace, my heart is racing. Are they following me?

I decide to test it, taking an abrupt turn down a different street. The SUV hesitates for a split second, then follows. Oh my goodness.

I take another route, a shortcut through a smaller road, and glance over my shoulder. The SUV speeds up, cutting me off before I can react.

The tires screech as the vehicle comes to a stop, and before I can even think about running, a man steps out.

"Get in," he orders.

Every instinct screams at me to run, to fight, to do anything but listen. But then he pulls out a gun, pointing it directly at me.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he says.

I freeze. My voice and body begins trembling as I step closer to the SUV.

“Please,” I stammer. “Who are you? What do you want?”

He smirks faintly, and his grip on the gun is steady. “A very powerful man wants retribution.”

He grabs my arm, shoving me into the car. And the door slams shut. Before I can say anything else, he blindfolds me. A gag follows, muffling my speech.

Fear grips me as the SUV moves forward, taking me God knows where.

—-

The car begins to slow down. I sit still, blindfolded and gagged, with my heart beating rapidly. I have no idea where they are taking me, but one thing is clear—I am trapped.

The car jerks to a stop, and I hear the front door slam. A second later, the rear door opens, and rough hands yank me out.

"Let me go!" I mumble through the gag, thrashing against his grip, but my captor only tightens his hold. He is strong, merciless, and seems to enjoy my struggle.

"Easy with her Luca," says a commanding voice from nearby.

"Apologies, Capo," the man gripping me mutters, his tone is instantly subdued.

He drags me into a building—I can feel the shift in the air, the cold floor beneath my feet. I hear the click of a chair being pulled out before I am forced into it. The rope tightens around my wrists and ankles, biting into my skin as he binds me.

"Help! Somebody help me!" I scream, panicking.

"Leave," the voice commands.

It seems my captor obeys, as I hear his footsteps retreating until the door is shut behind him. I am alone now, or so I thought.

"Good morning, Lana," a deep, velvety voice says, breaking the silence. My heart skips a beat. "Or should I say… Felicity?"

The name hit me like a slap to the face. My mind races, connecting the dots, and then it clicks. That voice. I know that voice. The man I had sold out. The man who was arrested because of me.

Ricardo Borrelli.

I swallow hard. I am terrified. I heighten my scream, pouring every ounce of desperation into it.

"Don’t bother," Ricardo says mockingly. "This place is soundproof. No one can hear you."

I freeze, and my scream fades into a whimper. Tears sting my eyes as his footsteps draw closer.

"Scared?" he asks, and I can feel the heat of his breath on my face. His hands run slowly along my cheek, mockingly gentle, before gripping my chin and yanking my face upward.

"Look at me," he growls, ripping off the blindfold.

My eyes blink against the sudden light, and then I see him—Ricardo Borrelli in all his fury. His dark eyes drill into mine. They are cold and malicious, and his jaw is clenched so tight I think it might shatter.

Tears well up in my eyes. His anger is evident, and I am at its center.

He leans in closer, and his lips curls into a smile that carries no warmth. "Was it worth it, Lana? Selling me out? Putting me in cuffs? Because now…" he pauses, brushing a tear from my cheek, "you’re mine."

My heart sinks. Is this the end?

My breaths come hard and fast, and my chest is rising and falling. Fear grips me, but I force myself to stay calm. I need to understand how the hell Ricardo came to the conclusion that I sold him out. Does he know about Charles? Is that why I’m here? I have to find out.

My wrists ache from the tight ropes binding me to the chair, but I barely notice. My mind is spinning. I lock eyes with Ricardo, refusing to let him see the terror I feel.

“We fucked,” I say with a shaky but firm voice. “I was genuinely concerned for you. You told me things, let me in. Yet somehow, I sold you out? And for what?” I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “Do you see me in designer clothes? Do I look like someone who cashed out on your downfall?”

His expression remains unreadable, but his jaw tightens.

“Ask your guy,” I say, nodding towards the door where the man—Luca—dragged me in from. “Ask him where he found me. What kind of fucking neighborhood I was jogging in?” My voice rises, filled with anger. “A fucking shack of a neighborhood! That’s where.”

Ricardo moves so fast I barely see it coming. His hand wraps around my throat, cutting off my air in an instant.

“Don’t fucking sit here and lie to me,” he snarls.

I gasp, struggling against his grip, but his hold is firm. I tried to release myself from his bindings, but it’s useless.

His eyes burn with fury as he leans in. His grip tightens just enough to make me lightheaded but not enough to kill me.

“If your real name is Lana Denver,” he says, “why the fuck did you tell me your name was Felicity?”

My head spins from the lack of air. I choke out. And just when I think I might pass out, he lets go. I slump forward, gasping for air, coughing violently as my lungs burn.

I need to think fast. If he finds out the truth, I’m dead. I look up at him, forcing myself to meet his gaze. I have to lie so smooth it almost feels real.

“I’m a stripper,” I say, still coughing. “That’s my stripper name.”

Ricardo doesn’t react right away. His eyes search my face, and for a moment, I think he might believe me. But then he smirks.

“Bullshit.”

I stiffen.

“I’ve been with plenty of strippers,” he says coldly. “You want names? Selena. Ivy. Roxie. Celine. Nova.” He lists them off effortlessly and mockingly. “Not a single one of them has ever needed a fake name.”

I don’t say a word. I won’t break. I won’t tell him that I was the one who sold him out to Charles.

I remain loyal.

Even though I know the cost of that loyalty.