Laurel P.O.V
Cold air hit my skin before my eyes even opened.
The first thing I felt was pressure—thick ropes digging into my wrists,my ankles locked against the legs of a hard chair. When I finally managed to lift my head, a wave of dizziness washed over me...and then the nightmare came into focus.
I wasn't in a room.
I was inside a den.
Dim lights flickered like dying candles. Men—only men—filled every corner. Some were crowded around a table, gambling loudly, slamming cards and money down like their lives depended on it. Others stood in pairs, speaking in hushed tones, voices sharp like they were sealing some dangerous business deal.
And then my gaze froze when i saw two men kissing each other aggressively in a corner, careless and wild like the world around them didn't exist.
My breath got stuck in my throat.
This place…this wasn't a hideout.
It was a kingdom of chaos.
Then I saw a woman,maybe in her late twenties—tied so tightly to a pillar that her arms looked drained of blood.Her face was bruised everywhere,swollen beyond recognition,scarred from wounds that were clearly recent.Her clothes were torn as if she'd been dragged through fire.
She was shaking uncontrollably.
Before I could process it,Abigail walked up to her and i realised she was the only female here.Yet she held a presence as strong and dangerous as any man in the room.Maybe even stronger.
She lifted the woman's head by the chin, inspecting her face as if she was assessing the worth of a damaged object.
The woman's voice trembled.
"Please…please spare me...I'm begging you…"
Abigail didn't blink.
Her tone stayed ice-cold.
"You shouldn't have done that in the first place"
The woman's trembling worsened. She knew what was coming.
Abigail reached behind her back and pulled out a small silver pocketknife. The metal glinted under the light and before the woman could react, Abigail dragged the knife across her cheek,deep enough to make the woman gasp in pain,but she didn't scream. She swallowed it down like someone who'd been warned not to make a sound ever again.
I felt sick.
My stomach twisted.
My heartbeat was loud enough to echo in my ears.
If this was how they punished one of their own....What would they do to me?
My leg throbbed suddenly—sharp, burning.
The gunshot.
I remembered the moment I was hit. The pain came back in full force and fear swallowed my throat whole.
I forced myself to stay quiet.
Invisible.
Unnoticed.
But fate had other plans.
A man suddenly yelled at Abigail, pointing angrily at the injured woman.
"Che sciocchezza è questa, Abigail?! È finita! Stai perdendo tempo!"
(TRANSLATION: What nonsense is this,Abigail?! She's done! You're wasting time!)
Abigail didn't even turn fully.
"I need information—"
He didn't let her finish.
A gunshot cracked through the room.
The woman was shot instantly, dead.
A few heads turned,annoyed—but not surprised.
Abigail whipped around, fury burning in her eyes.
She shot the man's hand in one sharp, merciless move.The gun flew out of his grip, hitting the floor with a hard clatter.
He screamed, clutching his bleeding hand.
"Continuate a risparmiare la gente!" He spat. "È inutile!"
(TRANSLATION: You keep sparing people!)
(TRANSLATION: It's pointless!)
He suddenly turned his gun toward me.
My entire world caved in.
My breath cut short.
The chair suddenly felt like it would collapse.
I couldn't even blink.
Abigail walked forward slowly, unfazed.
"Go ahead" She said coldly. "Kill her"
My soul left my body at that moment.
But then another man leaned toward the one aiming at me. He whispered something into his ear,too quiet to hear,but the effect was instant.
The man went pale and chuckled nervously like he'd been told a death sentence.
Abigail shoved her gun into his chest, pushing him back.
"Non sono affari miei da gestire" She warned,voice low and venomous. "Alza un dito e perderai la vita!"
(TRANSLATION: That is not my business to handle)
(TRANSLATION: Lay a finger and you'll lose your life!)
He bowed his head in fear and backed away.
The rest of the room returned to its chaos—gambling, laughing, kissing, dealing as if nothing had happened.As if death was normal here.As if torture was everyday routine.
I slowly tried tugging at the ropes,praying they would loosen.
They didn't.
Not even a little.
Then I saw a man in the far corner, talking on a phone. His posture was relaxed, but the deadly glare in his eyes said he owned this place. That he controlled every breath inside this room.
Blood from the dead woman dripped down the pillar,spreading across the floor like a dark stain of finality.
My chest tightened.
Abigail walked toward me—expression unreadable.She untied me without a word as if she was given the order to do so.
For a split second, I thought about running.
But one look around the room reminded me:
Running was death.
Men everywhere.
Guns.
Silence sharp enough to cut.
Death still fresh in the air.
Two huge men grabbed me by the arms and dragged me out. We entered a long, narrow passageway—dim lights flickering above us, shadows stretching like hands reaching out of the walls. It felt like a corridor leading straight to hell.
Hefty guards stepped aside as we passed—each one worse than the last.
Each one stared like they already knew the ending of my story.
I was pushed into another room—pitch black.
Then the door shut behind me.
Blackness swallowed everything.
I stumbled backward,pushing myself against the cold wall, breathing hard.
My hands trembled uncontrollably and I decided to search for an exit.
None.
Then I heard a voice.
Smooth. Calm.But terrifying.
"Trying to run from me,Laurel Mondaris?"
My blood turned to ice.
The lights snapped on.
And there he was—
Richardo.
Reclining on a king-sized bed, draped in a black robe that made him look like a shadow given life.
He stood up slowly like a predator who'd finally cornered its prey.
I backed away instinctively until my spine hit the wall. Hard.
Richardo closed the distance between us in a few steps.
His presence alone made the room feel smaller, the air heavier.
I backed away instinctively.
But there was nowhere to go.
The wall was already behind me.
He grabbed my waist with a swift, unyielding pull, trapping me between him and the wall.
I couldn't move.
I couldn't breathe.
His voice was low, ruthless and final:
"You took what's mine.I shall take what's yours"
He leaned in—too close—and I instinctively raised my hand between us, blocking him.
He didn't care.
He pushed me further into the wall, forcing my hand down as if my resistance meant nothing.
The room felt colder.
Darker.
Unescapable.
And all I could think was—
This is only the beginning.