LOGINNaomi’s POV
I have been married to Eldon Rayes for five years now.
And if there’s one thing I know for certain…
It’s what I want him dead.
I stopped praying a long time ago.
What’s the point of praying to a God who never listens?
The first night I arrived at his mansion, he didn’t speak to me. He didn’t ask my name.
He just dragged me upstairs, forced my legs apart, and claimed my virginity like a rabid dog.
There was no kindness nor warmth. Just power and violence.
He didn’t try to get to know me. He never talked to me.
To him, I wasn’t a wife. I was a possession.
He loved the pain I felt.
The fear in my eyes. The way I curled into myself when he was done hurting me.
It made him feel powerful.
He never once called me by my name. Just “girl.” Or “thing.”
Eventually, he started passing me around to his friends…like I was nothing.
They used me until they grew bored.
Because I had stopped talking or even crying no matter what they did.
There was nothing left for them to break.
For weeks after the wedding, I was locked in a room with no light. No food unless he remembered. No one to talk to.
“The Don asked to speak to you,” Maria said, breaking through my thoughts, her voice barely above a whisper.
She was one of the servants but more than that, the closest thing I had to a friend in this place. Maybe the only one.
Her eyes flicked toward the hallway behind her, cautious.
“He’s in the red room,” she added. “He said not to make him wait.”
My stomach clenched.
I stood slowly, smoothing down the black dress he forced me to wear each day.
“Do you know why he wants me?” I asked, even though I already feared the answer.
Maria hesitated. Then said,
“ The selection is starting soon.”
“What’s the selection?” I asked, stammering. There was a lot I still didn’t know…too much.
Maria’s eyes darted toward the hallway again.
“Just go,” she whispered. “Meet me at the balcony by three. No matter what.”
Then she rushed out before I could ask anything else.
My heart pounded. I smoothed the dress with shaking hands, then hurried out of the room, trying not to delay.
Being late would only earn me another beating.
The halls were quiet as I walked.
What’s the selection?
The question clawed at the back of my mind. My heart wouldn’t slow down. When my mom was alive, she would often mention it shuddering, but I never asked why.
I stopped in front of the red double doors.
Swallowed hard.
Then pushed them open.
The red room was dimly lit. The air smelled like cigars and blood making me gag.
Eldon Rayes sat in a large armchair at the far end of the room, one leg crossed lazily over the other, a glass of dark liquor in his hand.
He didn’t look at me right away.
“You’re late,” he said coldly.
I bowed my head at once. “I’m sorry, sir.”
He finally looked up. His eyes gleamed with slow cruelty.
“The selection begins tomorrow night.”
He stood and stepped toward me with deliberate strides.
I couldn’t stop the question from slipping out. My voice trembled.
“I’m sorry, sir… but what is the selection?”
Eldon stopped just inches from me.
He stared down, amused by my fear…like a cat toying with a dying mouse.
He tilted his head. “You don’t know?”
I shook my head slowly.
“I… I don’t understand, sir.”
“Of course you don’t.” He leaned back in his chair, savoring my confusion like fine wine. “The Selection is a tradition, you see. A gathering of the most powerful families in Italy. Every five years, we come together to… evaluate our assets.”
He stood slowly, his considerable bulk moving with predatory grace around the desk until he was close enough that I could smell the garlic on his breath.
“The wives, specifically. To see who has been properly trained. Who reflects well on their husband’s authority. Who has learned their place in our world?”
My mouth went dry. “What happens during the Selection?”
“A series of tests. Demonstrations. Competitions, if you will.” His hand came up to touch my cheek with mock tenderness. “The winning husband receives considerable respect from his peers. Enhanced business opportunities. Political advantages.”
“And the losing husband?”
His smile widened. “Faces certain… embarrassment. But don’t worry about the husband, my dear. Worry about the wife.”
I swallowed hard. “What happens to her?”
“Oh, she gets additional training. Specialized education in proper behavior. Most women find it quite… transformative.”
The way he said the word made my blood freeze. I have heard enough stories from the servants to know that women who went for “additional training” rarely returned. And when they did, they came back as empty shells, their eyes vacant and their voices never rising above a whisper.
“Of course,” Eldon continued, circling me like a shark scenting blood, “I have complete confidence in you, my dear. After all, you’ve had five years to learn proper obedience. You wouldn’t dream of disappointing me, would you?”
“No, sir. Never.”
“Good.” He returned to his desk, dismissing me with a wave of his fat fingers. “The ceremony begins at sundown tomorrow. Maria will prepare you appropriately. Don’t disappoint me, wife. The consequences would be… unpleasant.”
Only when he finally left the room did I dare to move.
I walked back to my room in silence. The walls felt tighter tonight.
The clock read 10:00 p.m.
Maria had told me to meet her by three am. Five hours.
I lay on the thin mattress, staring at the ceiling.
But sleep refused to come.
Anxiety curled around my chest like barbed wire. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. My thoughts kept spinning…
What is she going to tell me?
What if she gets caught?
What if I get caught?
Every footstep in the hall made me flinch.
By midnight, I had stopped trying to sleep. I just waited.
Once the clock struck three, I stood up, heart pounding.
I slipped out of the room quietly, careful not to make a sound.
The halls were dark and cold. Every creak in the floor made my breath catch.
When
I reached the balcony, and Maria was already there…standing close to the edge, glancing around nervously.
Naomi’s POV The drive back to the city felt longer than it should have. The wind carried the scent of rain and burned metal through the open windows, and though Cassian’s hand never left the wheel, his mind was miles away, probably tracing lines of war I couldn’t yet see. The note burned in his coat pocket like a live ember. I could almost feel its heat from where I sat. Beatrice’s handwriting haunted me, every word felt like a ghost come to accuse. When we reached the safe house, the air was thick with tension. Guards were changing shifts, radios buzzing, eyes flicking toward us for answers they wouldn’t get. Cassian handed Rubio the note’s coordinates with a terse order. “Run it through everything we have. Cross-check against Syndicate patterns.” Rubio nodded and disappeared into the operations room. Mara followed, already on her comms. That left Cassian and me alone again. He walked to the window, staring out at the skyline. Rain had started to fall, soft at first, then he
Cassian’s Pov; Night settled like smoke over the valley as we drove north again. The same road that had carried us away from fire now carried us back toward it. The truck’s headlights cut through a thin fog, turning the blackened trees into pale ghosts on either side. Naomi sat beside me, hood drawn, her fingers tracing the wolf pendant I’d given her months ago. She hadn’t spoken since we left the city. She didn’t need to. The silence between us was thick enough to fill the cab. The ruins appeared just after midnight, a silhouette of ash and twisted metal rising from the fields. The barn’s frame still stood, ribs of charred wood glinting faintly under the moon. The air smelled of soot and rust. Rubio and Mara followed in a second vehicle, their beams sweeping the debris. “Perimeter looks cold,” Mara’s voice crackled through the radio. “No heat signatures, no motion.” “Keep watch,” I said. “We go in and out fast.” Naomi’s gaze stayed fixed on the ruins. “This is where I wa
Naomi’s Pov; The days after the rescue felt unreal, like waking up inside someone else’s dream. The safe-house was quiet, almost too quiet. Every sound seemed magnified, the hum of the generator, the shuffle of guards outside, the faint clink of dishes from the kitchen below. My body healed faster than my mind. Bruises faded, cuts closed, but my thoughts kept looping back to the cell, to the scent of iron and smoke, to the sound of Cassian’s voice cutting through the chaos. He hadn’t left my side for the first two nights. He’d sat in the chair beside my cot, half asleep, half awake, his pistol resting on the table. Sometimes I’d wake in the dark and find his gaze already on me, as if making sure I was still there. He didn’t talk much. Neither did I. Silence had become the language between us, heavy, necessary, almost tender. On the third morning, Mara brought me a tray of food and a manila folder. “Cassian’s orders,” she said. “He thought you’d want to see this.” Inside we
Cassian’s Pov; The road back to the city stretched out like a scar, long, silent, and endless. By the time the first checkpoint faded behind us, the adrenaline had burned away, leaving only the smell of smoke and blood in its place. Naomi sat in the back seat, her head resting against the window, eyes half-open but distant. Every few minutes the truck hit a bump and she flinched; she tried to hide it, but I saw. Her wrists were red and raw where the chains had been. Mara drove, one hand steady on the wheel, the other on the radio, speaking in short bursts to our safe-house teams. Rubio rode shotgun, rifle balanced across his knees, eyes scanning the horizon. No one spoke for a long time. When we reached the river road, I finally broke the silence. “Any tails?” Rubio shook his head. “Nothing on the scanners. Either Reyes’s men scattered or they’re licking their wounds.” “Good,” I said. The word didn’t sound like victory; it sounded like exhaustion. By the time we reached
Naomi’s Pov; I sat on the cot, staring at the mark I’d carved into the wall days ago. The wolf’s head looked rougher now, the edges darkened from the soot that drifted through the vents. I traced it with my fingertip, whispering the same promise I said every night. He’s coming. The sound reached me then. Distant at first, something metallic, a muffled pop, then another. It was sharper, faster. Gunfire. I froze, breath catching in my throat. The guard outside shouted. Boots pounded down the hall. Voices overlapped, curses, commands. And then the lights went out. The sudden darkness was absolute. I could hear my own heartbeat, the clink of my chains when I stood. For one heartbeat, I thought maybe Reyes was moving me again, that this was another trick to make me hope. But the next sound shattered that doubt: the roar of an explosion somewhere above, the ceiling trembling, dust raining down like ash. The door burst open, flooding the cell with light from the hall. The limping gu
Cassian’s POV It was close to dawn when Mara found me. The city outside the windows was still burning in places, thin trails of smoke curling against the pale light. I hadn’t slept, not since the night before, not since the warehouse. The smell of ash still clung to my clothes, to my hair, to everything I touched. I was standing at the map again, tracing routes that led nowhere, when Mara burst through the door. Her face was drawn, eyes sharp with urgency. “You need to see this,” she said I turned. “What now?” She didn’t answer. Just crossed to the far table where a monitor flickered, a live feed, one of hundreds we’d hijacked from Reyes’s security network. Most showed empty hallways, guards smoking, blank walls. But on this one, the image was different. A small, windowless cell. Gray walls, iron cot, single light bulb. And Naomi. My breath caught before I could stop it. She was sitting on the edge of the cot, head bowed, hair tangled. She looked thinner, bruises faint







