Chapter 2

"Because if you run, I'll burn everything you care about before I drag you back."

I gripped the vase tighter, knuckles turning white. 

"You think you can just threaten me like that? My friends have nothing to do with this sick world."

Damien stepped fully into the room, closing the connecting door behind him with a soft click. He didn't look angry. He looked like a man who had already decided how this night would end. 

"Sit down, Isabella."

"No," I stayed on my feet, heart hammering against my ribs. 

"You don't get to order me around. I don't know you. I don't want any part of whatever empire my father built."

He crossed his arms, the tattoos on his forearms shifting with the movement. 

"Your father owed debts. Blood debts. People are coming to collect, and they see you as the receipt. You can hate me all you want, but right now I'm the only thing standing between you and a shallow grave."

I laughed, sharp and bitter. 

"Standing between me and a grave? You probably put him in one. Rico said your name like everyone knows you did it."

Damien's eyes narrowed. 

"Watch your mouth. I didn't kill Marco. But I won't lie and say I didn't want him gone. He crossed too many lines, even for our world."

"Then why am I here?" I shot back, voice rising. "If you didn't do it, let me leave. I'll disappear. You never have to see me again."

He moved closer, slow steps that made the room feel smaller. 

"Because the moment you step outside these gates without my protection, you're dead. Or worse. Some families like to break pretty things before they kill them. You want that?"

My stomach twisted. I lowered the vase but didn't put it down. 

"I had a normal life. Students who liked my classes. A little studio where I painted the ocean every morning. You took that."

"I saved it," he said flatly. 

"Your apartment was already being watched. My men got there first."

I stared at him, searching for any lie in those grey eyes. Nothing. Just cold certainty. 

"Why should I believe anything you say? You kidnapped me. You locked me in here like some prize."

Damien ran a hand through his dark hair, looking almost tired for half a second. 

"Because the alternative is worse. Tomorrow morning we will go through your father's files. You'll tell me everything you know about his contacts, even the small things. In return, I keep you breathing."

"I know nothing," I said, shaking my head. 

"He never told me about any of this. Just sent money and asked if I was okay."

He watched me closely. 

"Then you'll learn fast. I don't have time for weak links, Isabella. Either you become useful or you become a problem."

The words stung. I stepped forward, close enough to see the faint scar along his jaw. 

"I'm not a link. I'm a person. You can't just own me because my last name is Moretti."

A small, dangerous smile touched his lips. 

"In this world, that name already owns you. And now it belongs to me too."

I swallowed hard. 

"What does that mean?"

"It means," he said, voice dropping lower, "you stay under my roof. You eat when I say. You speak when I allow it in front of others. And if anyone asks, you're mine. My guest. My responsibility. My leverage."

Heat rushed to my face. 

"Your leverage? Like a tool? I'd rather die."

"Don't say that." His tone sharpened. 

"You have no idea what dying looks like in our business. I've seen it, men begging, women broken, children used as messages. You want that for yourself?"

I turned away, chest tight. The vase felt heavy in my hands now. I set it down on the dresser with a loud clack. 

"I want my life back."

Damien stayed quiet for a moment. Then he spoke again, closer than before. 

"That life is gone. But you can build something new here. If you stop fighting me every step."

I spun back around. 

"Stop fighting? After you threatened my friends? After you locked me up?"

He shrugged one shoulder. 

"I protect what's mine. Right now, that's you. Get used to it."

The connecting door was still open behind him. I could see part of his room, a big desk, dark sheets, and guns laid out neatly. 

"What if I agree to help with the files?" I asked carefully.

"Then what? You let me go after?"

Damien gave a short laugh. 

"No. You'll stay until the threats die down. Could be months. Could be years. Depends on how smart you are."

"Years?" My voice cracked. I hated it. "I can't live like this. Not as your prisoner."

"You're not a prisoner," he said. "You're an asset. A very valuable one. Play nice and I'll give you freedom inside these walls. Art supplies. Books. Whatever you need. Fight me and life gets harder."

I crossed my arms, mirroring him. 

"And if I try to run anyway?"

His eyes darkened. He stepped even closer until I had to tilt my head up to meet his gaze. 

"Then I'll cuff you to that bed myself and stand guard all night. Don't test me, Isabella. Not tonight."

My breath caught. The threat should have scared me more, but something else mixed in anger, confusion, and a spark of something I didn't want to name. He was too close, too tall, too sure of himself.

"Fine," I whispered. 

"I'll look at the files tomorrow. But I'm not yours. I'll never be yours."

Damien studied my face for a long moment. "We'll see."

He turned to leave, then paused at the door. 

"One of my men will bring you clothes and food soon, eat, sleep. Tomorrow isn't going to be easy."

"Wait," I called as he started closing the door. 

"Did my father really say my name? At the end?"

Damien stopped. He didn't turn around. 

"He did, he said your name and then he begged for you."

The door clicked shut. I sank onto the bed, legs finally giving out. Tears burned my eyes but I wiped them away fast. Crying wouldn't help. I needed to think, needed a plan but as I stared at the connecting door, I heard Damien's voice on the other side giving orders again, low, sharp, deadly.

"Watch her closely, Rico. She's smarter than she looks. And if any Moretti loyalists come sniffing around tonight, shoot first."

My blood ran cold. Smart or not, I was trapped with the one man who might have wanted my father dead and something told me the real danger had only just started.