Page 148 of The Silence Lies

“This is all my fault,” Giovanni mumbles. His words are full of defeat, but I refuse to let them deflate me. I swing my body out, hoping the chains above me might give, but it’s fruitless. All I’m left with is more aches and bruises. I groan, letting my weight sag as the metal cuts deeper into my flesh. The cool air lashes at the grazes I can feel on my skin, doing nothing to soothe it.

I swing my body around until I’m facing Giovanni. I blink through the darkness, faintly making out his silhouette. “How can you say that, Gio? You didn’t know this was going to happen.”

“I should have done more, Sera. I should have—” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because the door ahead of us swings open and a blast of light beams through the space before a light overhead turns on.

I squint through the brightness, finally glimpsing Giovanni and his blood-soaked shirt. He’s slumped, just like me, though I can practically feel his desolation. It hits me like a wave, making me nauseous and dizzy. I turn my head to focus on the blurry figure lingering ahead of us. They approach slowly, almost cautiously, like we’re prey. In all honesty, I feel like prey right now, but it doesn’t take a genius to work out who my predator is.

Rage sparks through my blood. I wriggle and swing, trying to break free from my binds. It’s no use, though, my wrists are bound tight, my entire body hanging from a chain pinned in the low ceiling. Pain radiates so sharply that numbness extends to my extremities, making me dizzy. I groan through the pins and needles in my hands, my eyes struggling to focus on anything because it’s all still blurry.

“Topolina.”

I shudder at the nickname, little mouse. That single dread-filled word spoken in his voice makes me want to hurl. I clench my eyes shut, willing for this to be all part of the same nightmare. It’s wishful thinking, though. I know it as soon as his hand slides down my back.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” I scream, kicking my legs out. I narrowly miss him. If I had a little more give in these chains, I’d be choking him out with my legs or knocking him out with a swing kick. Clearly, Luciano has considered that, because my body only gently moves, even from my exertion.

Luciano tuts at me, shaking his head and stepping in front of me to pinch my cheeks together. “I considered killing you, you know. Leaving you for dead on the side of the Valley road would have been a lot easier. But I’ll be honest, the idea of having you here with me is much more exciting, don’t you think?”

I spit a glob of saliva out, landing it perfectly on his face. “Do you think I’m going to believe your sentiment?” I laugh sadistically. I push my head through my arms, getting as close as I can to Luciano. I won’t give him the satisfaction of my fear. That’s reserved for someone who deserves it, someone like Giovanni who has done nothing but take bullet after bullet for me. “You can’t kill me, you don’t have the fucking balls.”

Luciano sneers back, his anger thinning his lips. I know I’ve struck a nerve when my head shoots sideways and pain radiates through my cheek. He grabs my face with one hand, pressing his forehead to mine. “I don’t have to kill you, Bianchi. I just have to give you enough pain. You always liked the pain, didn’t you? Though I have to admit, you have more fight in you this time around. I’m going to have even more fun breaking you now.”

I suppress a shudder at his proximity. Luckily, he shoves me back harshly, putting some distance between us. The weight of my body and the restriction of my chains doesn’t allow me to move far enough though, which means it’s on Luciano to step away.

The cuffs punch my wrists as I writhe against them. The urge to scream out is almost unavoidable, so I bite down on my lip, willing my fear to withdraw even just a sliver so I can keep my cool.

“You can hurt me all you like, Luciano,” I grit out. “You’ll get nothing.”

“Is that so?” Luciano steps towards Giovanni, a sly smirk on his face. “Maybe she’ll change her mind once we tell her the truth, what do you think, Gio?”

I turn my head toward Giovanni, my brows furrowing.

“I did what you asked,” he growls. “Now give me my daughter back!” Giovanni thrashes against the chains, but his body isn’t strong enough to get him loose.

Luciano cackles at his efforts. “You can have her back when this is finished.”

My eyes widen and shock has me frozen. It all hits me like a sledgehammer to the gut as realization sinks in that these two know each other.

“What is he talking about?” I snap, trying to catch a glimpse of Giovanni. “Gio?”

Luciano swings me back around to face him, gazing at me with evil intent. “You trust too easily, Topolina.”

My brain seems to move a million miles a second, but I’m having a hard time keeping up. My thoughts are blurred with questions. I’m so fraught with confusion that I can’t seem to find any fucking words. But Luciano was always good at mind games, and I should have known that this was inevitable; him attempting to break me one last time.

“Gio?” Though I try to be strong, his name parts my lips on a whimper. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve called out to him, and it stings that he won’t answer me.

Luciano laughs sadistically before turning on his heel and heading into a corner of the room, toward a table full of rusty tools. Luciano plucks up each one, examining it quietly. That action alone tells me he’s had this all planned out, and the shame I feel that I’m once again at the Verdi’s mercy kills a piece of me, little by little.

The pause gives me the chance to look around— as much as I can in my restricted state. We’re in some kind of basement where mold festers in the cracks of the walls. It smells damp and reeks of death.

Luciano grins up at me, his blue eyes filled with a sadistic flare. In his hand, he holds a knife, sharp and clean.

If there’s one thing I know about tools like these, it’s that it doesn’t matter if they’re rusty or not. They all hurt the same. There’s a reason rusty tools are used over clean ones, though, and that’s because you don’t have to go as deep. You can still score flesh and cause excruciating pain, the added bonus being the infection you die from afterward. Sharp tools are used to cause quicker pain. You don’t carefully slice and dice, but slash to your heart’s content. And I think that’s what scares me the most. Bleeding out isn’t a pleasant way to die. If I’m going out, I want it to be quick. Though I’ve known Luciano long enough to ignore my naïvety now. He’s not going to make this quick at all.

“Darling, Serafina.” Luciano draws the blade down my cheek. It’s cold and sharp, like every molecule in this room. The slice of flesh burns through my face as the air around us hits the open wound. I can feel the warmth of my blood trickle down my face as Luciano drags the metal down my neck and over my top. The straps of my camisole snap away with a flick of his wrist, the material pooling at my waist.

“The things I want to do to you,” he says whilst suppressing a groan. “It’s like old times, no?”

I suppress the urge to shudder with disgust. I can’t allow it to bother me because that’s the kind of sick satisfaction Luciano gets. He preys on the weak because he knows he can’t gain a sense of power any other way. The lunatic thrives off of power trips. But I won’t give him what he wants. He can paint this room with my blood, but I still won’t beg.

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