Page 75 of Darkest Oblivion
“I know,” Giovanni said softly, almost pitying. “But her rebellion, her recklessness—it’s dangerous. She’s putting us at risk.”
Dmitri’s jaw tightened. “I know. Her father comes tomorrow. Marco might try to take her back. I need security around her—airtight.”
“I’ll handle it,” Giovanni said, firm and steady.
Dmitri nodded, his frame still tense, and as he turned toward the alcove’s entrance, I spun on my heel, heart hammering, and tiptoed down the corridor.
The oversized shirt flapped against my thighs, a fragile shield against the memory of his hands, his lips, his possession.
My bare feet whispered against the marble, but inside, my mind screamed.
Jealousy? Dmitri?
The man who had cuffed me, stripped me, claimed me with a cruelty that left me shivering didn’t seem capable of something so human. Yet his words—Everything I do is for her... and because of her—echoed in my chest like a bell tolling doom.
What did he mean by everything?
He hated me, yes, despised me for sins I didn’t understand, for debts my parents owed that I had never agreed to. And yet, that same obsession, that unrelenting need, felt like a chain I couldn’t escape—and part of me, the part I loathed most, didn’t want to.
I reached my room, the heavy oak door groaning as I slipped inside, heart ragged.
The four-poster bed loomed, its silk sheets a mockery, gleaming under the dim light.
I sank onto the edge, clutching Dmitri’s shirt to me, inhaling the scent that still lingered on the fabric like a warning.
My father was coming tomorrow—Marco Romano.
I had to see him, demand answers.
Why did Dmitri despise us? What had my parents done to turn the boy I’d loved into this vengeful, obsessive beast?
But how? The villa was a fortress, every corridor lined with guards, cameras capturing every heartbeat, every step.
Dmitri’s orders to Giovanni meant no room for error—security tighter than any prison I had imagined.
My stubbornness flared, a tiny defiant spark in the darkness. I would not let my father leave without me.
I’d find a way—steal a key, slip a note, anything. I needed to know the truth, to untangle the storm that had swallowed the boy I had loved, the boy he had once been.
I paced the room, the cool air brushing my bare legs, my chest tight with tension.
Tomorrow night, Dmitri would take me to Lupo Nero, and his possessive gaze would follow me through the crowded club.
Another cage, another game—but also a chance.
A fleeting window to slip away, to find my father, or to discover the truth he had buried so deep.
I clenched my fists, letting the ache of the boy I’d loved mix with the fire of the woman I had become.
I would be ready. Not submissive. Not broken. Defiant. Stubborn. And even if my heart shattered, even if I longed for the boy he’d killed, I would not vanish without a fight.
Chapter 20
PENELOPE
Darkness pooled against the windows, thick and endless, while I faced the mirror, smoothing the sleek black dress I’d chosen for Lupo Nero.
The club was a gauntlet, a place where eyes followed me like I carried plague, and every gaze whispered fear of Dmitri Volkov.
