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Gunfire still pierces the air, relentless and terrifying. I don't know where Damien's mom and sister could be in this chaos, and my heart clenches with worry for them. I continue to shake Seraphina, my hands trembling, refusing to let terror paralyze me.
"Seraphina, please," I whisper urgently.
Around us, the mayhem rages on, a storm of violence and fear, but I can't, I won't leave my friend vulnerable and alone. She's family to me. We've faced the world side by side, and I am determined to see us through this nightmare together. My resolve hardens. I will protect her at all costs. Desperation gives way to fierce determination as I scoop her limp body into my arms, prepared to carry her if I must. Failure is not an option. I stagger under her weight. Suddenly, a familiar voice slices through the air.
"I knew you'd put up a fight," it sneers.
I try to whip my head around to face the new threat, steeling myself for another confrontation. Before I can spot the speaker, something heavy crashes against my skull. A burst of white-hot pain flashes through my consciousness, and then, much like the lights that flicker and die above us, everything goes black.
31
CHAPTER 31
Isabella
Consciousness creeps back to me, sluggish and reluctant. My head throbs in time with my pulse, and pain races through me like sharp needles. As my eyes fight to open, reality warps in and out of focus, the world around me slowly taking shape. Walls, unfamiliar and cold, surround me, painting a picture of confinement I wish I could disbelieve.
Fingers fumbling, I realize with a sinking heart that I'm shackled to a chair, with my wrists chafing against the harsh bite of rope. A futile struggle ensues as I attempt to wriggle free, but the bonds hold fast, unyielding.
There’s a single window barred from the outside, casting a funnel of daylight that seems to grasp at the otherwise dim interior. The furnishings are minimal. A metal table bolted to the floor, flanked by two chairs of the same unyielding material. On the table lies a pitcher of water and a glass beside it.
The air is still, scented with the faintest trace of lemon, an attempt at comfort, perhaps, in this cold and utilitarian space. Despite the lack of adornment, the room doesn’t feel cramped. It’s spacious enough, yet the emptiness serves as a constant reminder of my isolation. This is an old house made to look more maintained than it has been.
"Sera...phina," I gasp out, my voice a mere whisper against the thick silence that fills the room.
To my left, a soft moan answers me. It's Seraphina. She stirs with her own battle with consciousness etched on her face. Her eyes flutter open, heavy with disorientation. She scans the room, her confusion palpable as her gaze lands on me.
Shock registers in those deep, familiar eyes as reality sets in. Realizing she's bound just as I am, her body jerks in a reflexive attempt at escape. But like me, she is tethered, imprisoned by more than just ropes, by fear, by desperation. We are trapped, mutual recognition igniting a silent alarm between us as we face the unknown perils that wait in the shadows.
The door creaks open, drawing a stark line of light across the darkened room that momentarily blinds me. My eyes widen in response to the silhouette that's now framed by the doorway. It's Aurora, the last person I expected or wanted to see. Three men follow her in, faces stern and unreadable. Aurora's voice breaks the oppressive silence, smooth and cold as ice.
"Ah, you're finally awake," she states, her eyes examining me as if I'm nothing more than a specimen under her microscope. "You have caused more problems than you know. I didn't want to get my hands dirty, but you left me no choice."
I frown, jerking against my restraints, with confusion and anger mingling in my gut. "I don't know what you're talking about," I reply, but my voice sounds far less certain than I intend it to.
Aurora laughs a hollow sound that bounces off the walls and wraps around me like a chilling embrace. "You really are clueless, aren't you?" she taunts.
She begins to circle me, and I follow her with guarded eyes, my body tensing instinctively. Each step she takes sends a wave of ominous foreboding through me, and goosebumps rise on my skin despite the stuffy air. A visceral reaction to the predator prowling before me. Aurora stops back in front of me, her gaze cold and calculated. She pauses for just a moment, evidently savoring the control she holds over this twisted situation.
"I'd like to introduce you to someone," she declares with a sly edge to her voice and gestures toward the door they came through. I'm on high alert, muscles tensed and mind racing, until he walks in. My father. My eyes go wide as my heart slams against my chest.
"What the fuck!" I blurt out before I can stop myself. "What have you gotten me into this time, Dad? I don't have any money to help you. Why these people think that, I have no idea."
As I glare at him, the puzzle pieces are tumbling into place. This isn't just about money. If Aurora is involved, there's something much larger at play. She's a Blackhart, for god's sake. They're loaded with money. Fear twists in my stomach. It's not just the money they're after.
My father strides forward, and before I can even flinch, his hand cracks across my face. The stinging slap sends my head careening to the side, and a pained moan escapes me. I taste blood as I've bitten my cheek.
"Bitch! Why did you have to be so difficult," he hisses, his voice dripping with contempt.
"Don't touch her, you sick son of a bitch!" Seraphina's voice, raw and furious, cuts through the stunned silence following his outburst. There's a brief moment of tension. Then another smack sounds, this one not against my skin. Seraphina moans in pain, and the sound wrenches at my heart.
I can't see her from where I'm tied, but anger and worry swell within me like a turbulent storm. "Seraphina!" I shout, straining against the ropes. "Why are you doing this?"
My father's eyes burn into mine, simmering with anger as he leans in closer. "Because you're about to come into a large sum of money, and I need that money," he spits out, the words laced with venom.
Confusion washes over me. I have no knowledge of any money. I may be married to Damien, but it’s technically notmymoney; it’s his. My father’s greedy eyes don't leave me, and it's clear that he believes this, whether it's a delusion of his desperate mind or a cruel fact, I'm yet to uncover.
"What are you talking about," I ask. My breath hitches, and a chill races down my spine.
