Chapter 5

Three Days in Darkness

Elisa

Time blurred in the dungeon, I had no idea if it had been hours or days since they threw me in here. There were no windows, no clocks, just the dim glow of a single overhead bulb that flickered unpredictably, leaving me in suffocating darkness.

My body ached from the rough handling, my mind continuously replayed the scene at the villa like a broken record. Pietro’s face, contorted in fear, then surprise, then nothing, Romano’s cold eyes, his deliberate pull of the trigger.

Hunger gnawed at my stomach, but I refused to touch the food tray they left. Not because I thought it was poisoned, Antonio wanted me alive for now, I was sure of it. But because eating would mean accepting my captivity.

I wasn’t ready to do that.

I lay on the cot, staring at the ceiling, my mind drifting in and out of memories of the past. Pietro’s cold, calculating stare, the sharp sting of the training sessions that had taught me pain was just a weakness to be burned out.

And then Antonio’s voice, taunting me. "He never really cared about you."

I squeezed my eyes shut, what did he mean?

It was just a mind game, it had to be. Antonio wanted to break me, make me question everything until I became something he could control.

But he underestimated me, I would not shatter.

Even as exhaustion weighed me down, even as hunger made my body tremble, even as my own mind began to betray me.

---

By the third day, I was slipping.

My head throbbed, my limbs weak, dehydration made every movement feel slow, like I was wading through thick fog.

I hated that I had started counting the minutes, I also hated that I had begun to hope someone would come.

I lay curled on the cold stone floor, my gaze fixed on the sliver of light filtering from the high window, a distant reminder of the world outside my prison.

And then, finally, someone did.

The heavy iron door groaned open, and for a moment, I was blinded by the light spilling in from the hall.

Footsteps echoed on the stone floor, slow and deliberate, it wasn't Antonio's or the guard's I had come to know.

It was a woman. I blinked against the brightness, my vision adjusting just as she crouched beside me.

She was beautiful, not in the cold, untouchable way of Mafia wives who were draped in silk and diamonds, but in a quiet, effortless way. Long dark hair, deep brown eyes, the kind that held secrets.

She held out a bottle of water.

I glared at it, She sighed. “It’s not poisoned.”

I didn’t move.

“I’m Bianca,” she said, setting the bottle down beside me. “Antonio’s sister.”

The connection sent a shiver down my spine.

“He knows you’re here?” I asked, my voice sharper now.

“Of course,” she replied, her gaze steady. “No one keeps secrets from him. Or… not many, anyway.” A hint of a playful smile touched her lips.

Her voice was warm, almost too warm, it set me on edge. “What do you want?” My voice was hoarse, my throat raw from thirst.

“To talk,” She nodded toward the water,“And to make sure you don’t pass out in here.”

I didn’t trust her, but I was dying of thirst.

With a scowl, I grabbed the bottle and drank. The water was cool, soothing the burn in my throat, I hated how good it felt.

She watched me with a quiet patience. When the bottle was empty, I set it down and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “So talk.”

Bianca studied me. “Antonio isn’t what you think.”

I let out a hollow laugh, “He kidnapped me and murdered my father in front of me, enlighten me, what exactly am I misunderstanding?”

Her expression didn’t change. “Pietro Bianchi never acted like a father to you, I'm not even sure he was.”

A chill ran down my spine, why would she say that, is there something I didn't know?

I forced myself to scoff. “And you expect me to take your word for it?”

“No.” Bianca stood, dusting off her jeans. “But maybe you should let Antonio explain why he did what he did, before you decide to hate him.”

I shot up from the cot, my body swaying from the movement. “I don’t need his explanations, I know exactly who he is.”

Bianca gave me a long, unreadable look. “Then why are you still asking questions?”

She turned and walked to the door, “Wait,” I snapped, she paused.

I swallowed hard. I hated how curious my voice sounded, “Tell me, then, who is he?”

Bianca’s gaze softened, “That’s for you to find out.”

And then she left, locking the door behind her, I stood in the silence, my chest heaving.

Bianca Romano was only trying to brainwash me, she had to be. No matter what Pietro was my father, Marco was my uncle, The Bianchi family was my blood.

I clenched my fists, Antonio was playing a dangerous game, and I was going to make him regret it.