Page 16 of Stefano
Chapter Ten
Hope And Fear
Andrea
The warehouse feels colder now.Hours have passed, though I’ve lost track of time.There are no windows, no clocks, just the heavy scrape of boots on concrete, the murmur of Spanish voices, the rattle of bottles when one of them drinks too much.My body aches from the restraints, my throat is raw from screaming earlier, and every breath feels like it carries the weight of dread.
I know I look a mess, but none of it matters.Because beneath the fear, something else has taken root.A tiny ember that refuses to die.
Hope.
Because even if Matías is wrong, Stefano will come for me.He’ll come because he can’t do anything else.That’s the man he is.And even if he doesn’t feel the same way I feel about him, even if I’m just an inconvenient responsibility to the family, I know Stefano Cammareri doesn’t let anyone take what belongs to him.
The question is ...do I belong to him?
My heart answers before my head can argue.Yes.I do belong to him even if he won’t claim me.
Matías paces in front of me, his sharp suit discarded for a plain black shirt and jeans.His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, tattoos winding over the corded muscle of his forearms.He looks less like the charming Luca who once made me laugh over text and more like the predator he truly is.
“Do you think he’s coming?”he asks suddenly, his voice cutting through the haze of my exhaustion.
I glare at him, though my eyes sting with unshed tears.“Yes.”
He laughs softly, crouching so he’s eye-level with me.“You sound so sure.Like you believe in him more than you believe in yourself.”
I flinch, but I don’t look away.“Because I do.”
His smile fades.“That’s dangerous,princesa.Love like that?It’s a leash around your neck.You think it makes you strong, but it makes you weak.”
I spit in his face, anger flaring bright enough to burn through the fear.“Then why are you so afraid of it?”
For a moment, something sharp flashes in his eyes.Then he slaps me.The crack echoes through the warehouse, my head whipping to the side, my cheek stinging hot.Tears well instantly, but I grit my teeth and swallow them down.I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me break.
He grabs my chin, forcing me to face him.“Stefano is going to crawl through hell for you.And when he does, I’ll put a bullet in his head while you watch.”
My chest heaves, fear clawing up my throat.But still, the ember of hope refuses to die.
“No,” I whisper, “you won’t.Because he’ll kill you first.”
His grip tightens, but I see it, the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.Stefano terrifies him, even if he won’t admit it.
The men at the table laugh again, shuffling cards, drinking like they don’t have a captive tied a few feet away.One of them glances over at me, his gaze lingering too long, sliding down my body in a way that makes my skin crawl.
He says something crude in Spanish, and the others chuckle darkly.I don’t catch every word, but I don’t need to.The intent is clear.
Matías whirls, barking something sharp.His tone is lethal, his eyes promising death if they touch me.For now, his control keeps them back.
But for how long?
