The safehouse was a concrete fortress tucked away in the shadows of the Italian Alps. It was cold, damp, and smelled of old cedar and gunpowder. Dante threw Sienna onto the king-sized bed in the center of the room. She hit the mattress hard, her white silk dress torn at the shoulder, her eyes wide with a mix of terror and pure, unadulterated rage.
Dante didn't look away. He stripped off his tactical vest, dropping it to the floor with a heavy thud. He looked at her like a predator looks at a trapped rabbit but he wasn't hungry for food.
"Get up," he barked.
"Fuck you," Sienna hissed, pushing her hair out of her face. "You think you can just snatch me off the street? My father will burn this entire mountain to the ground to find me."
Dante laughed, a dark, dry sound that didn't reach his eyes. He walked over to her, his shadow looming over her small frame. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Your father is a coward who hides behind glass and bodyguards. I walked through fire to get to you. Do you think I give a fuck about his threats?"
"You're a monster," she whispered, though she didn't pull away.
"I'm a Moretti," Dante corrected, his thumb tracing her lower lip with a terrifying slowness. "We don't play fair. Your father took my brother, Enzo. He was twenty-one. A kid. Your father put a bullet in his back while he was eating dinner. So now, I'm taking his heart. That's you, isn't it, Sienna? His 'Little Bird'?"
He gripped her hair, pulling her head back just enough to make her gasp. "You're going to be my leverage. And until he gives me what I want, you stay in this room. You eat when I say. You sleep when I say. And you definitely don't talk back to me."
"I'd rather die," she spat.
Dante leaned down, his breath hot against her neck. "Death is too easy, *principessa*. I want you alive. I want you to feel every second of what it's like to be owned by the enemy."
He let go of her abruptly and walked toward the door.
"Wait!" she called out, her voice trembling. "What are you going to do to me?"
Dante paused at the door, his hand on the heavy iron bolt. He looked back over his shoulder, his eyes dark with a possessive fire. "Everything I've been dreaming about since I saw your face in that car. Get some rest, Sienna. You're going to need it."
The heavy door slammed shut, and the sound of the bolt sliding home echoed like a gunshot. Sienna was alone, trapped in the dark, with the scent of Dante's cologne smoke and expensive leather clinging to her skin.