Page 13 of Stefano
Chapter Eight
Captive
Andrea
The warehouse smells like rust and gasoline.My wrists burn where the zip ties cut into my skin, every movement slicing deeper.The chair beneath me wobbles on the uneven floor, and every creak echoes like thunder in the silence.
Matías circles me like a shark, his eyes sharp and cruel.Gone is the easy smile of Luca, the man who made me laugh over text.What’s left is something darker, hungrier.A predator who tricked me into walking willingly into his trap.
“You looked so pretty tonight,” he says, crouching low so his face is inches from mine.“All dressed up, thinking you were going on a date.Instead, you came right to me.”
My stomach twists.“Why me?”My voice is hoarse from crying, but I force the words out.“What do you want with me?”
He smirks, brushing a strand of hair from my face.The touch makes bile rise in my throat.“Because of who you belong to.”
“I don’t belong to anyone,” I snap, my voice shaking.
“Ah, but you do.”His grin widens, teeth flashing.“The Cammareri.Stefano.”
The sound of his name on Matías’s lips sends a shiver down my spine.My pulse races.“He ...he doesn’t care about me.”
“Lies,” Matías hisses.“I saw the way he looked at you.That’s why you were so easy to take.Because men like him, men who think they’re untouchable, always have a weakness.And you,princesa, are his.”
My chest tightens.Fear and shame twist together until I can barely breathe.I want to deny it, to insist Stefano doesn’t see me that way.But the truth burns hotter than the fear.
He does, even if he won’t admit it.And Matías knows it.
The other men laugh and drink in the corner, tossing cards onto a crate, their voices a low rumble.One of them mutters something in Spanish,diviértete con ella.My blood turns to ice.I don’t need a translation to know what he means.
Matías’s gaze flicks toward them, sharp.“No one touches her.”
Relief surges, but it’s laced with confusion.Why protect me?Why stop them?He leans closer, answering the question I can’t ask.
“You’re bait,” he whispers, answering my unasked question.“If anyone breaks the toy before he comes for it, it ruins the game.”
I clench my jaw, tears burning hot.I won’t give him the satisfaction of crying another fucking tear.I won’t give him the pleasure of seeing me break.
“You think Stefano will come for you?”he asks, tilting his head.“You think he’ll risk everything for one woman?”
“Yes,” I whisper, surprising even myself with the certainty in my voice.“He will.”
Matías studies me for a long moment before laughing low and cold.“Then we wait.”
Hours pass.The men drink, smoke, and laugh too loudly.My head throbs from the sound, my throat dry, my body aching from sitting so long in the same position.
Every creak of the warehouse door makes my heart leap.Every shadow makes me hope.I know Stefano.I know he won’t stop until he finds me.
The fear is still there, sharp and suffocating.But beneath it, something else grows.A thread of strength I didn’t know I had.
Because if Matías is right, if I really am Stefano’s weakness, then that means I matter.And maybe, just maybe, I’ll be strong enough to survive until he comes.
