CONFINEMENT

The weight of his boot on my chest made every breath feel like swallowing crushed glass.

I stared up at him, my heart hammering a frantic, erratic rhythm against my ribs. Blood was still actively dripping from his broken nose, splashing onto his white shirt and leaving dark, ugly stains across the expensive fabric. His eyes weren't cold like ice anymore. They were burning with pure, unadulterated fire.

"Get... off," I choked out, clawing uselessly at his pant leg with my bound fingers.

Lorenzo didn't move for three agonizing seconds. He just stood there, towering over me, watching me struggle like an insect pinned to a board. The sheer power radiating off him was suffocating. Then, with a slow, terrifyingly controlled breath, he finally lifted his boot.

Before I could even draw a full lungful of air, he bent down, grabbed the collar of my shirt, and hauled me to my feet in one violent motion. My bare toes barely grazed the carpet as I struggled to find my balance.

"You're done running," he hissed, his breath hot against my ear.

He didn't call for his guards. He didn't want anyone else to see him bleeding. He dragged me himself, his grip on my upper arm like a vice. I stumbled, my knees scraping against the floorboards as he hauled me out of the bedroom and down a long, dimly lit hallway. Everything was a blur of dark wood and expensive oil paintings, but I couldn't focus on any of it. My head was still throbbing violently from the headbutt, and my vision swam with every step.

He stopped in front of a heavy, solid oak door at the very end of the hall. He threw it open and shoved me inside with enough force to send me flying.

I hit the floor hard, sliding across cold hardwood before coming to a painful stop against the base of a bed frame.

"This is your home now," Lorenzo said, standing in the doorway. He pulled a crisp linen handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to his bleeding nose, his glare promising absolute hell. "Don't bother trying the windows. They're bulletproof glass. They don't open."

"You can't keep me here!" I yelled, scrambling into a sitting position and leaning heavily against the bed to stay upright. "People will look for me! The hospital—"

"No one is looking for a cafeteria worker who skipped town," he cut me off, his voice dropping back into that chilling, flat baritone. "As far as the world knows, Alina, you vanished. Just like your father."

The heavy door slammed shut.

The sound of a massive deadbolt sliding into place echoed through the room like a gunshot. Click.

Silence rushed back in, heavy and suffocating.

I slumped against the bed, my muscles finally giving out as the adrenaline drained completely from my system. My body started to shake violently. I was completely alone. My face throbbed, my wrists were raw and bloody from the twine, and I was trapped in a room with no way out.

I let out a shaky breath, biting my lip to force the tears back down. Think, Alina. Think. He thought I was the key to finding my dad. He thought I was part of some massive mafia puzzle. But I was just a girl who wanted to survive the night.

I forced myself onto my knees, dragging my bound hands behind me. The room was dark, lit only by the moonlight filtering through the giant, unyielding windows. It was a bedroom, but it felt like a vault.

I shuffled toward a small wooden nightstand, trying to see if there was anything sharp. My eyes scanned the shadows. No loose screws. No sharp edges. Just a heavy glass lamp.

If I knocked it over and broke it, I could use a shard of glass to cut the ropes.

I leaned my weight against the nightstand, guiding my tied hands toward the base of the lamp. My fingers wrapped around the cold metal stem. I pulled.

The lamp crashed to the floor, shattering into dozens of sharp, glittering pieces.

I froze, holding my breath, waiting to see if the guards would burst through the door. One second. Two seconds. Five seconds. Nothing. The hallway outside stayed silent.

I quickly dropped to my stomach, squirming backward toward the biggest piece of broken glass. The sharp edge sliced into my thumb instantly, a hot burst of pain making me gasp, but I didn't care. I lined the rough twine up against the glass and started sawing back and forth.

Come on. Break.

The friction burned my skin, and I could feel a mixture of sweat and blood slicking my wrists. Finally, with a sharp snap, the tension gave way.

My hands flew apart.

I sat up instantly, rubbing my raw, bleeding wrists. I was still locked in a fortress, but my hands were free.

Suddenly, the heavy lock on the door rattled. The deadbolt slid back. Click.

Someone was coming.

I quickly dropped to my stomach, squirming backward toward the biggest piece of broken glass. The sharp edge sliced into my thumb instantly, a hot burst of pain making me gasp, but I didn't care. I lined the rough twine up against the glass and started sawing back and forth.

Come on. Break.

The friction burned my skin, and I could feel a mixture of sweat and blood slicking my wrists. Finally, with a sharp snap, the tension gave way.

My hands flew apart.

I sat up instantly, rubbing my raw, bleeding wrists. I was still locked in a fortress, but my hands were free.

Suddenly, the heavy lock on the door rattled. The deadbolt slid back with a heavy, metallic clack.

Panic seized my chest. If they saw the shattered lamp and my free hands, they’d tie me up twice as hard. I didn’t think. I scrambled backward, shoving the broken shards of glass under the bed frame, and threw myself onto the mattress, tucking my free hands behind my back just as the heavy oak door swung open.

It wasn’t Lorenzo.

Standing in the doorway was the scarred giant from earlier. But he wasn't looking at me with anger. His face was dead-white, and his hands were trembling.

Behind him, two other guards were dragging a man down the hallway. The man was covered in a heavy black hood, his clothes soaked in fresh mud and dark, oozing blood. He was barely conscious, his boots dragging lifelessly against the hardwood floor.

"In here," a harsh voice barked from the hallway.

The guards violently threw the bloody, hooded man into my room. He collapsed onto the floor right at the foot of my bed, groaning in pure agony.

Before I could even scream, Lorenzo stepped into the doorway. A stark white bandage was taped across the bridge of his broken nose, and his eyes were completely dead. He looked down at the bleeding man, then locked his terrifying gaze onto me.

"Since you claim you don't know where your father is, Alina," Lorenzo murmured, his voice smooth, cold, and utterly terrifying. "I decided to bring his closest associate to help jog your memory."

Lorenzo stepped forward and violently ripped the black hood off the dying man’s head.

My heart completely stopped. The air died in my throat.

The blood-covered man shivering on the floor wasn't a stranger. It was the doctor who had signed my shift logs at the hospital cafeteria every single day for the past two years.

Lorenzo reached into his jacket, pulled out a silver pistol, and pressed the cold barrel directly against the doctor's temple.

"You have sixty seconds to start talking," Lorenzo whispered, looking directly into my eyes. "Or his brains become the new pattern on your rug."