Page 44 of Made to Sin

I groaned in pain, cramping from the awkward bend of my elbows, but didn’t say another word. The familiar metal tucked in his waistband kept my mouth shut.

Pragmatically thinking, if they were taking me to Luciano, I might be able to plead my case. Sure, I would be mortified, but it was better than getting treated as a trespasser by the infamously cruel Benevetis enforcers.

Given that we shared a kiss earlier today, he would have some sympathy to let me go unharmed, right?

Right… I needed to keep optimism. Anything less would send me into a spiral and the last thing I needed was another panic attack.

The car stopped after what felt like twenty minutes, and I was rudely pushed out. I had been blindfolded and sat between two large men I didn’t notice were at the scene, removing any ideas of trying to run. Though I never would have tried with the reminder of having a gun pointed at me sans hesitation.

As the man on my left removed my blindfold, I expected to be standing on the dirty pavement in front of the club. Instead, I was at a grim warehouse that resembled a place for extreme torture.

“Where are you taking me?” I worriedly asked.

No response from any of the surrounding men.

I tried again. “Hello? Where are you taking me?”

No response.

“Please..”

Whenever it got too quiet, my brain had a habit of trying to fill the silence. Since nobody gave me an answer, I started coming up with worst-case scenarios myself.

No response.

All this because I decided my life needed some color. Well,the only colorful thing now was the string of curses I was internally yelling at myself.

Midway into telling off my ancestors for giving me the dumb gene, a sharp pain punctured my neck. I was instantly too drowsy to react, but I knew I was drugged and completely at their mercy.

Merda.

IBLINKEDAWAKEATTHEsound of a heavy door slamming shut. The room I was in was dark and empty, not one I remembered ever being in before.

My limbs were heavy, my mouth was dry, and my head was pounding. I moved to stretch out the soreness, but my arms wouldn’t lift further than a few inches. Panic flashed through me when I realized I was tied up to a metal chair.

I tugged in attempts to free myself, but a foreign, deep sound of someone clearing their throat captured my attention.

Looking up, the man who entered was not anyone I recognized. His head was lowered and darkness covered his face, but I knew I wouldn’t forget him if we had met before. He had a presence from the top of his hair to the soles of his steeled boots.

There were so many things to take in about him, but I could only think about the uncanniness of the raven swatch of hair that flowed to the base of his neck. The connection didn’t click right away, not until he came closer and an all-too-familiar shade of kohl eyes stared directly at me.

Merda, was I in a simulation?

At a glance, a person could mistake him for Luciano’s brawnier twin. If I didn’t know any better, I would say theywere.

But upsettingly, I’d been around Luciano enough to spot their differences. For one, Luciano’s eyes were more on the gray spectrum, while this man’s seemed to be overridden by black. Another difference was the perfection of Luciano’s smooth planes versus this man’s jagged cuts. Then, there was the fact that Luciano wouldn’t be caught dead out of his suit, yet this man was casually sporting a white henley and jeans.

Finally, it was the way each man carried their darkness that let me know I preferred Luciano. The shadows embraced him, but they feared the man in front of me.

I couldn’t tell which was scarier, but better the monsters you knew than the ones you didn’t.

I flinched as he came closer, thinking the man was going to hurt me, but his frown loosened, and he seemed almost relieved to see me awake.

“Are you Katarina Camello?” He asked, voice so gravelly that it caused an abrasion in my ear.

“Yes,” I croaked out, cringing at my unused vocals.

He held a clear bottle to my lips, directing me to take a drink. When I stared warily at it, he clarified it was water. I debated if I should trust him, but my throat felt as if I just ate a spoonful of cinnamon, so I reluctantly took a sip.

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