I didn't sleep.
Not even for a second.
The bed was too soft.
The room was too quiet.
And my thoughts—
Too loud.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my father's face.
Not the version I grew up loving.
Not the man who used to carry me on his shoulders or laugh too loudly at his own jokes.
But the one from last night.
The one who stood in the doorway and let them take me.
The one who chose himself.
Over me.
I sat up abruptly, the anger rising all over again like it had never left.
"Stupid," I muttered under my breath.
Stupid for trusting him.
Stupid for believing we were safe.
Stupid for thinking my life was mine.
Morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden—almost peaceful.
It didn't belong here.
Nothing about this place deserved peace.
I swung my legs off the bed and stood, pacing the room slowly.
Think.
Observe.
Plan.
That's what mattered now.
Not emotions.
Not fear.
Survival.
The door.
I walked toward it and tried the handle.
Unlocked.
I paused.
That… was unexpected.
Too easy.
Which meant—
It wasn't really freedom.
Just another illusion.
Still, I opened it.
Slowly.
Carefully.
The hallway outside was quiet.
Empty.
But I could feel it again—that invisible presence.
Like eyes watching from places I couldn't see.
Security.
Guards.
Control.
Everywhere.
"Good," I whispered to myself.
At least now I knew.
This wasn't a prison with walls.
It was a prison with rules.
And rules?
Rules could be studied.
Broken.
Used.
I stepped into the hallway.
One step.
Then another.
Each movement deliberate, measured.
I wasn't running.
Not yet.
Right now, I was learning.
Voices echoed faintly from downstairs.
Male.
Low.
Serious.
I followed the sound.
Not rushing.
Not hesitating.
Just enough curiosity to seem harmless.
As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I saw them.
Three men.
And him.
Luca.
He stood with his back partially to me, dressed in black again, his posture relaxed but not careless
Never careless.
The other men spoke quietly, but the moment I stepped closer—
Silence.
Immediate.
Total.
All eyes turned to me.
I resisted the urge to stop.
To shrink.
To react.
Instead, I kept walking.
Calm.
Controlled.
Unbothered.
Even if it was a lie.
"Well," I said lightly, folding my arms. "This is… welcoming."
One of the men shifted slightly.
Uncomfortable.
But Luca—
Luca just watched me.
That same unreadable expression.
"You're awake," he said.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
"I tend to be," I replied.
A pause.
Then—
"Did you sleep?"
"No."
"Good."
I blinked.
"Good?"
"Yes."
I frowned. "You're strange."
"And you're observant."
The other men exchanged glances.
Clearly unsure how to react to this… whatever this was.
Because this wasn't fear.
And it definitely wasn't obedience.
Luca stepped closer.
Not aggressively.
Not softly either.
Just… intentionally.
"You shouldn't be down here," he said.
"And yet," I gestured around, "here I am."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"Testing boundaries already?"
"Understanding my environment," I corrected.
A flicker of approval crossed his face.
Quick.
Barely there.
But I saw it.
"Leave us," Luca said suddenly.
The other men didn't argue.
Didn't hesitate.
They just left.
Like his word was law.
The room felt different the moment they were gone.
Quieter.
More dangerous.
"You're not afraid," Luca said.
It wasn't a question.
I tilted my head slightly. "Should I be?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
He stepped closer again.
Closer than before.
Close enough that I could feel it—that pull again.
That tension.
That… something.
"Because," he said quietly, "you're standing in the middle of something you don't understand."
I held his gaze.
"Then explain it."
Silence.
Heavy.
Measured.
"You don't ask for permission," he noted.
"I don't like being controlled."
A faint smirk touched his lips.
"That's going to be a problem."
"For who?" I asked.
That did it.
That was the moment something shifted.
Not visibly.
Not dramatically.
But I felt it.
Interest.
Real interest.
"You're different," Luca said.
"Disappointed?"
"No."
A pause.
"Curious."
I exhaled slowly, steadying myself.
"Then satisfy your curiosity."
He studied me for a long moment.
Like he was deciding something.
Weighing something.
Then—
"Your father didn't just owe money."
My chest tightened.
"I figured."
"He owed loyalty."
That made me frown. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Luca said, "he broke an agreement that had nothing to do with cash."
A chill ran down my spine.
"What kind of agreement?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he walked past me, pouring himself another drink like this was a casual conversation.
Like my life wasn't hanging in the balance.
"When people work with us," he said slowly, "they don't just walk away."
"And he tried to?"
"Yes."
My mind raced.
My father.
Running from something this big?
This dangerous?
"What did he do?" I asked quietly.
Luca glanced at me.
"Something that put a target on his back."
"And me?"
His gaze darkened slightly.
"You became collateral."
There it was again.
That word.
Cold.
Detached.
Dehumanizing.
"I'm not collateral," I said firmly.
Luca walked back toward me.
Slow.
Measured.
Dangerous.
"No," he said softly.
"You're leverage."
My jaw tightened.
"I'm starting to hate that word."
"Get used to it."
Silence fell again.
But this time—
It wasn't just tension.
It was something deeper.
Something forming.
"Why didn't you kill him?" I asked suddenly.
The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Luca paused.
"That would've been easier," he admitted.
"Then why didn't you?"
His eyes met mine.
And for a second—
Just a second—
I saw something human.
"Because," he said quietly, "dead men don't fix problems."
I swallowed.
"That doesn't explain me."
"No," he agreed.
"It doesn't."
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Then—
"You're here," Luca said, "because you're going to help me fix what your father broke."
I let out a short laugh.
"You kidnapped me for a business problem?"
"Yes."
"You're insane."
"Maybe."
I shook my head, pacing slightly now.
"This is ridiculous. You expect me to what—work for you?"
"I expect you to survive," he corrected.
I stopped.
Turned back to him.
"And if I refuse?"
The air shifted.
Instantly.
Luca's expression didn't change.
But something in the room did.
Something heavier.
Darker.
"Then," he said calmly, "you'll learn the difference between having a choice…"
A step closer.
"…and thinking you have one."
Silence.
My heart pounded.
But I didn't look away.
Didn't back down.
Because if there was one thing I understood now—
One thing I was absolutely certain of—
This wasn't just a cage.
It was a game.
And Luca?
Luca wasn't just the one in control.
He was the one setting the rules.
But me?
I wasn't here to play by them.
I was here to break them, no matter the cost