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 air in the northern base changed overnight. It wasn’t something you could see, but something you could feel like a vibration under the skin. Conversations quieted when Cassian entered a room. Doors started closing faster. Even the guards carried their rifles differently, eyes scanning corners they used to ignore. Someone had breached our system again. By dawn, Cassian had the entire operations floor running. Screens flickered with encrypted data streams, names flashing red as Mara locked down access routes. Rubio was barking orders through comms, his voice tight with exhaustion. I stood at the edge of the chaos, trying to piece together what was happening. “Another leak?” I asked Mara when she passed. She stopped long enough to look at me, eyes sharp. “Worse. They cloned our relay keys. Someone’s inside the network pretending to be us.” Before I could respond, Cassian’s voice cut through the noise. “Shut down the uplink. Kill all remote lines.” Mara hesi
Naomi’s Pov; The wind howled against the factory walls that night, rattling loose panes of glass like the ghosts of the place were whispering through them. Sleep wouldn’t come. Every sound set my nerves on edge, the hum of the power lines, the drip of condensation through the pipes. I couldn’t stop thinking about the transmitter Rubio mentioned. If someone had been leaking data for months, it meant the Syndicate had been watching long before the explosion. Maybe even before Cassian saved me. That thought rooted too deep to ignore. So I slipped out of bed, laced my boots, and followed the hum beneath the floor. The air in the tunnels was colder, metallic. Each step echoed off concrete and iron, my flashlight slicing through dust and cobwebs. The deeper I went, the stronger the vibration became a faint, rhythmic pulse. And then I saw it. Half-buried in a crack near an old support beam was a small, black device no larger than my palm. It pulsed faintly, a single red light blinki
Naomi’s Pov; The convoy cut through the fog like ghosts. Three armored trucks, two escort bikes, and one black sedan, Cassian’s. We moved before sunrise, the city still half-asleep, its streets slick with last night’s rain. I sat in the back seat beside Mara, the cold pressing against the windows. Cassian drove. Of course he did. He trusted no one else with the wheel, not when I was inside. He hadn’t said much since the morning briefing. Every command came short and measured. Every look calculated. But I could feel the tension under his composure the kind that stretched tight enough to snap. When the city fell behind us, replaced by the endless blur of wet fields and power lines, Mara shifted beside me. “You okay?” she asked. I nodded. “You ever get used to running?” She smiled faintly. “You don’t. You just get better shoes.” Outside, fog rolled low over the hills. The world felt distant, muted, unreal. I pressed my palm against the glass and caught Cassian’s reflection
Naomi’s Pov; Morning came late. The sky over the city was a muted gray, heavy with rain that hadn’t yet fallen. The safe house was quiet except for the low hum of generators and the clatter of distant dishes. After the explosion, Cassian had ordered a lockdown. No one entered. No one left. I hadn’t seen him since last night. The last thing he’d said was “Get some rest, Naomi.” But rest was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the blast. The heat, the sound, the way his voice had gone silent right before it hit. Now, sitting by the narrow window, I watched the street below blur in the fog. Somewhere, life went on as if nothing had burned. The door opened quietly behind me. I didn’t turn. His presence filled the room before he spoke, steady, contained, dangerous in the way calm men are after chaos. “You didn’t sleep.” I looked over my shoulder. Cassian stood in the doorway, sleeves rolled up, shirt half-unbuttoned, a faint bruise on his jaw. His hair was damp, like
Naomi’s Pov; The world tilted before I heard the sound. One second, Cassian’s voice crackled through the earpiece. The next, the promenade behind us erupted into light. The explosion swallowed everything, the fountain, the crowd, the morning itself. Heat slammed into my back, knocking the air from my lungs. Rubio threw me down behind a kiosk as debris rained around us. Screams blurred into sirens, glass into dust. “Cassian!” I gasped into the earpiece. Nothing. Only static. Mara’s voice broke through instead. “We’re moving! West exit—now!” My ears rang. The ground felt unsteady, like the city itself had come loose. Rubio hauled me to my feet, pushing through the stampede of panicked civilians. Smoke curled into the sky like a signal to gods who’d stopped listening. We reached the side street where the trucks were waiting. Mara slammed the door behind us as Rubio gunned the engine. The convoy peeled away from the chaos, tires screaming against asphalt. I clutched the seatb
Cassian’s Pov; Dawn came without warmth. The sky over the city was pale and heavy, the color of unfinished steel. The kind of morning that promised nothing good. I stood on the balcony of the safe house, coffee cooling in my hand, watching the streets below. The operation would move within the hour. Every contingency, every backup, every escape line had already been written. But my mind wouldn’t stop rewriting them, adding layers, angles, traps within traps. Naomi was the center of it all. The bait. The flame. The risk I couldn’t let go of. Inside, the team was already assembling. Rubio oversaw logistics, five vehicles, staggered positions, each with redundant comms. Mara directed the surveillance hub, her voice clipped and sharp. She thrived on chaos; I needed that right now. When I walked in, the room fell quiet. “Status,” I said. Rubio pointed to the digital board. “Naomi’s drop point is confirmed. Midtown promenade, open space, high civilian traffic. We’ll have two







