Chapter 4 - A Collar, A Chain

ELLIE

Noir was the last sight I remembered before I was taken by slumber, my body unable to continue after the day's events. I shut down and embraced the darkness like it was the warmth I never truly got growing up.

A warmth I'd told myself I would never need.

I awoke with a start, my chest constricting as my throat closed up and I struggled to breathe. Shock, anxiety, fear—they all melded into one heavy feeling that seemed to squeeze my throat until I'd forgotten how to breathe.

My eyes snapped open, and sunlight immediately burned through my blurry sight, making my eyes water even as I struggled to catch my breath.

It was like being dragged out of a lake in the middle of the desert.

For a moment, I wondered if Dylan, my best friend, had snuck into my apartment again and opened my curtains just to annoy me, an activity she enjoyed more than anything.

But then, the unmistakable pain in my left arm hit me, and with it came the memory of how it came to be.

The bald man pulling me out of the car, my bones snapping and bending at an odd angle.

My breaths began coming out in spurts as I sat up, fear covering every inch of my now shivering body like a damp cloth dunked in ice.

Where am I?

The room was spacious.

It looked bigger than my apartment back at home, the walls a shade of muted blues and gold. Simple, dark brown furniture decorated the space: a work table and chair at the far end, a fancy sofa opposite it, and then two high wooden doors that sat at opposite ends of the bedroom.

An exit.

I stood from the comfortable sheets I was huddled in without thinking, pulling them over my body and stepping down from the high bed with unsteady feet.

Everywhere spun for a moment, and my left arm began throbbing from the strain.

I looked down at the arm and found it to be in a cast, the white and solid material blocking the rest of my arm from view. All I could see was my palm and fingers.

I broke it.

But who treated it?

The question sent a shiver down my spine because that was when those unmatched eyes came to mind.

The man who had saved me... Noir.

Is this his place?

Who exactly is he?

I shook my head, forcing down my growing questions as I stumbled my way towards the door on the left, head and heart pounding incessantly.

I had to get out. I could figure out the answers to my questions later, but... I couldn't be here, not after everything that happened last night.

If I was right and that man truly brought me here... who was to say he wouldn't kill me like he killed those bald men last night?

I reached for the door handle and pushed down. It opened with a click, and at the same time, I heard the other door opening.

I immediately froze, my own door swinging open to show a sprawling bathroom lit up with even brighter lights than in the bedroom.

I went for the wrong door.

I heard footsteps, heavy and multiple. It wasn't just one person stepping in, it was—

"Hello, Ellie," a man said.

An unfamiliar voice that gripped me so tightly I feared I might never escape. It wasn't Noir. I wasn't sure why I foolishly hoped it was him, someone familiar despite being a killer.

I turned around, having no other option. Running into the bathroom would be foolish now.

My eyes met brown eyes that somehow managed to rival just how alluring the sight of melted chocolate was.

He wasn't as tall as Noir, but he was tall... his face made up of sharp angles, perfect nose, enthralling lips, thick but neat stubble that framed his jaw. He had short, dark brown hair, slicked back to perfection, not a hair out of place.

He looked like an aristocrat, a man that exuded both confidence and danger, yet he managed to make both seem like they couldn't do without the other.

A package.

He was attractive. But not attractive enough to curb just how fast my heart was racing.

"How... who are you?"

I took a step back, part of me already in the bathroom, though somehow I could tell this wasn't a man I could run from.

"Lorenzo, and this is Silas," he simply responded, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes narrowed into scrutinizing slits, like he was trying to see through every inch of me. It made me tense up. His gaze slid down my skin in a manner that seemed to leave it burning from the intensity. My lips parted... I was out of breath.

The man behind him was quiet, looking at me with the same intensity but not with curiosity.

His gray eyes stayed on me like I was his prey, his dark pink lips pressed into a thin line, thick brows pulled together with an unmistakable look of... disgust?

I honestly couldn't tell.

His face seemed to be a sculpture, one that the artist must've spent years carving and making every intricate detail. Unlike Lorenzo, the man didn't look like an aristocrat; he looked more like a fighter, a broken nobleman, one might say.

His nose was crooked—from being broken one too many times, I was sure. His dark hair was messy, carrying highlights of silver and blonde, yet he looked to be in his late twenties.

He scared me.

They both did.

Meanwhile...

"How do you know my name?"

Lorenzo simply raised an arm. I noted the scribblings, tattoos that covered his fingers as he showed me the brown file in his grasp.

"I have a file on you."

My brows pulled together, stomach sinking as I stared between him and the file.

"You are Ellie Knight, born September 18th, manager of some run-down diner in New York City. You went to business school when law school didn't work out and still ended up in that diner... fascinating stuff," he waved the file before tossing it over to me.

I caught it clumsily, the file almost slipping from my wet fingers.

"The only thing I find more fascinating than your track record of turning down job offers from the big companies that wanted to hire you, is your family record," his expression was blank, and I couldn't tell what the man was thinking, but his tone was rather accusatory. "It says there that you're Elijah's half-sister."

"I'm his sister," I corrected sternly without thinking, hating how he emphasized the half part.

My brother and I didn't love each other any less just because we had different fathers or differences that made us unable to live together.

"Right..." he simply said dismissively.

"And you just happened to show up in Milan the day before his body was found. Quite coincidental, don't you think?"

I blinked in shock, the implications of his words settling and then twisting in my gut.

"Are you saying I killed my brother?"

The man behind him—Silas—scoffed. "With those arms?" he mocked, the corners of his lips tilting up.

"No, as a matter of fact, I know why you came to Italy," Lorenzo continued, taking a step towards me, and then another, and then another. It was like being frozen in place as I watched him approach. I couldn't move; I couldn't breathe.

"Then..." my voice shook; I couldn't keep it steady. "Why am I here?"

"Hm..." Lorenzo was closer now. I could smell his cologne, a scent I knew would imprint itself on my memories.

"For protection." His fingers reached for me, and I foolishly didn't pull back.

No, instead I welcomed his touch, the inexplicable heat it brought along with it.

He held my chin, lifting my face just so I could meet those brown eyes.

What is wrong with me?

It wasn't just my heart racing; my stomach seemed to flutter endlessly from an emotion I didn't dare name in that moment. Goosebumps broke out across my skin, and I foolishly... didn't pull away.

"Protection from what?"

"Let's put it this way..." Silas said, now coming closer as well, his large body as well as Lorenzo's blocking out the sunlight, trapping me in a hold that felt more like a gilded cage.

The gleam in those gray eyes seemed to pull me into depths I knew I would never leave if I gave in.

"Your brother was a very powerful man, and he had powerful enemies."

My confusion only deepened.

"My brother was an accountant for his start-up company," I argued.

"Your brother was the accountant for a gang—a family rather—The Black Rose."

The Black Rose.

It was the name Elijah had called his company, and now they were saying it was a gang?

"And now that he's gone, they won't stop until they wipe out the rest of The Black Rose," Silas took a step back. "You signed your fate the second you stepped foot in Italy with that passport. If they get their hands on you, they will kill you or worse."

The heat slowly drained from me, replaced by a chill I recognized as the familiar grip of horror.

"Who's they?"

"Everyone," Lorenzo replied.

Everyone?

What did that even mean?

"I... I'm going back home. I want no part in whatever this is." My foot moved, but my body didn't.

Lorenzo held my arm, keeping me in place.

"You are not leaving."

"What?" I blinked. "You're going to keep me here against my will?"

Lorenzo took a step back this time, letting go of my arm and ridding me of his mind-muddling scent.

"Yes, if that's what it takes."

I trembled, the cold I felt spreading through every inch of me until I was nothing else but a bundle of fear. "How can I be sure that you won't be the ones to kill me?"

That was when Silas chuckled, the sound was like the slithering of a viper, wrapping around my throat like a collar—like a chain.

"That's just it, Tiny, you're not.”