Serena remained in the foyer long after Dante disappeared up the stairs.
Her legs had turned to water.
She pressed her back against the cold marble wall, needing its solidity to keep herself upright.
Laura's screams still echoed in her ears—that raw, animal sound of someone whose world had just shattered.
The crack of bone.
The casual brutality of Dante's hand as he'd snapped her finger like it was nothing.
That could have been me.
The thought sent ice through Serena's veins.
If she'd been anyone else.
If she hadn't been purchased for two and a half million dollars.
If Dante didn't see her as his property to protect...
She pressed trembling fingers to her cheek.
The cut stung, but it was shallow.
It would heal.
No permanent damage to the merchandise.
God, she was going to be sick.
"Miss Miller."
Serena's head snapped up.
Enzo stood a few feet away, a first aid kit in his massive hands.
His expression had softened slightly—not quite sympathy, but something adjacent to it.
"Let me see to that."
She wanted to refuse.
Wanted to tell him she could handle it herself.
But her hands were still shaking too badly to be trusted with scissors and bandages.
Enzo guided her to one of the ornate sofas in the sitting room.
Morning light streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, painting everything in shades of gold that felt obscene given what had just happened.
"This will sting," Enzo warned.
He wasn't lying.
The antiseptic burned like hellfire when it touched the scratches.
Serena bit down on her lip hard enough to taste copper, but she didn't make a sound.
She'd already shown enough weakness today.
Enzo's hands were surprisingly gentle for someone his size.
He worked with the careful precision of someone who'd patched up wounds before—probably his own, probably worse than this.
"Laura..."
Serena's voice came out hoarse.
"Does she really have children?"
Enzo's jaw tightened.
"Three. Two boys and a girl."
Guilt twisted in Serena's stomach.
"I didn't want—"
"Don't."
Enzo cut her off, but not unkindly.
"Laura made her choice. She knew the rules. Everyone who works here knows—you don't touch what belongs to the Boss. Ever."
"I'm not a possession."
The words escaped before Serena could stop them.
Enzo paused in his work.
Met her eyes.
Something flickered in his expression—regret, maybe. Or pity.
"In this world, Miss Miller, we're all possessions. The only question is who owns us and how well they protect their investments."
He finished bandaging her cheek and sat back on his heels.
"Can I give you some advice?"
Serena nodded, throat too tight for words.
"If you want to survive here, remember two things."
Enzo's voice dropped to barely above a whisper, like he was afraid the walls might hear.
"First, never anger the Boss. Second..."
He glanced toward the doorway, then leaned closer.
"Make yourself valuable. Make him need you. Right now, you're a prize. A trophy. But if you become something he can't function without?"
Enzo's expression turned knowing.
"Then you're not property anymore. You're a partner."
Valuable. Need. Partner.
The words circled in Serena's mind like keys to a locked door.
"How?" she whispered.
"That's for you to figure out. But I've seen your file, Miss Miller. Full scholarship to Columbia. Computer science degree. You're not just a pretty face, are you?"
Before Serena could respond, a sound from outside made them both freeze.
Car engines. Multiple vehicles.
Enzo was on his feet instantly, hand moving to the gun at his hip.
He moved to the window, pulling back the curtain just enough to see out.
His entire body went rigid.
"Shit."
Serena stood.
"What? What is it?"
"Stay here."
But Serena was already crossing to the window.
She looked out and her blood turned to ice.
A massive black SUV had pulled up to the estate's main gate.
She recognized it immediately—the chrome detailing, the tinted windows so dark they looked like holes in reality.
Viktor's car.
The passenger door opened.
Viktor stepped out, and even from this distance, Serena could see the cruel set of his smile.
Four of his men flanked him, all armed.
"He can't be here," Serena breathed.
"Dante said—"
"The Boss got called away on urgent business an hour ago."
Enzo's voice was tight.
"City emergency. He won't be back for at least two hours."
No.
No, no, no.
"Viktor knows."
The realization hit Serena like a physical blow.
"He planned this."
Enzo was already pulling out his phone.
"I'm calling the Boss."
Outside, Enzo's men had moved to intercept Viktor at the gate.
Serena watched as Viktor said something that made the guards hesitate.
Of course.
Viktor was part of Dante's organization.
Technically, he had every right to be here.
The gates opened.
"Boss isn't answering."
Enzo's knuckles had gone white around his phone.
"The meeting must have started."
Viktor was striding toward the main entrance now, his men following like wolves at his heels.
Serena's heart hammered against her ribs so hard it hurt.
She couldn't breathe.
The room felt too small, the walls closing in.
"Go to your room," Enzo ordered.
"Lock the door. Don't come out until I come for you."
But Serena's feet had frozen to the floor.
Because she knew—with a certainty that lived in her bones—that a locked door wouldn't stop Viktor.
Nothing would stop him except Dante, and Dante wasn't here.
The front doors burst open.
Viktor's boots echoed on marble as he strode into the foyer.
His eyes swept the space like a predator scenting prey, and when they landed on Serena through the sitting room doorway, his smile widened.
"There you are."
His voice was gravel and smoke.
Serena stepped back instinctively.
"You can't be here. Dante said—"
"Dante?"
Viktor laughed, the sound sharp and ugly.
"Your precious Boss is halfway across the city dealing with a little... distraction I arranged. Probably won't be back for hours."
He took a step into the sitting room.
Then another.
"See, I've been thinking about you, sweetheart. About that pretty mouth of yours. 'I'm not broken,' you said."
Viktor's gaze dragged down her body like hands.
"I like a woman with spirit. Makes it more fun when you finally break them."
"Stay back."
Serena's voice shook, but she forced steel into it.
"Or what?"
Viktor was close now.
Close enough that she could smell whiskey and cigars on him.
Close enough to see the scar tissue on his knuckles, probably from beating men to death with his bare hands.
He reached out.
Grabbed a lock of her hair.
Wound it around his fingers.
"Dante's been selfish, keeping you all to himself. I think it's time to share, don't you?"
Serena slapped his hand away.
"Get the fuck away from me."
Viktor's expression darkened.
"You little—"
His hand shot out, closing around her wrist.
Hard.
Hard enough to bruise.
Serena gasped in pain.
"Let me show you what happens to bitches who don't know their place—"
"Remove your hand. Now."
Enzo's voice cut through the room like a blade.
He stood in the doorway, gun drawn.
Not pointed at Viktor—not yet—but the threat was clear.
Viktor didn't let go.
"This doesn't concern you, Enzo. Go guard a door or something."
"That's the Boss's property you're touching."
Enzo's gun rose fractionally.
"I'll give you three seconds to let her go."
"You won't shoot me. We're on the same side."
"One."
"Dante will have your head if you—"
"Two."
Something in Enzo's eyes must have convinced Viktor he wasn't bluffing.
The scarred man released Serena's wrist with a disgusted sound.
"Fine. Fine."
Viktor held up his hands in mock surrender.
"I was just saying hello. No harm done."
He turned to leave, then paused at the doorway.
Looked back at Serena.
"See you soon, princess. When your guard dog isn't around."
Then he was gone, his men trailing after him.
The front door slammed hard enough to rattle the chandelier.
Serena's legs gave out.
She collapsed onto the sofa, whole body shaking like she'd been electrocuted.
Her wrist throbbed where Viktor had grabbed her.
When she looked down, his fingerprints were already darkening into bruises on her pale skin.
"Are you alright?"
Enzo holstered his weapon.
"No."
Serena's laugh came out jagged.
"No, I'm really fucking not."
"I need to tell the Boss—"
"No."
Enzo froze.
"What?"
Serena forced herself to stand.
Her legs wobbled, but they held.
"Don't tell him."
"Miss Miller, Viktor just assaulted you. The Boss needs to know—"
"Dante already told me he wouldn't protect me."
Serena's voice hardened.
"Last night. He said if something happened to me because of Viktor, it was my own fault. So why would he care now?"
"He would care," Enzo said quietly.
"You're his."
"Exactly. I'm his property. And I'm done being property."
Serena straightened her spine.
Made a decision that probably sealed her fate one way or another.
"Take me to him. To Dante. Right now."
"He's in a meeting—"
"I don't care if he's meeting with the fucking President. Take me to him now, or I'll find him myself."
Enzo studied her for a long moment.
Then, surprisingly, he nodded.
"Alright. But you're going to owe me for this."
Dante returned to the estate ninety minutes later.
He looked exhausted—tie loosened, shirt sleeves rolled up, jaw tight with tension.
Whatever business had called him away had not gone well.
He headed straight for his study, probably planning to drown the day in expensive scotch.
He found Serena waiting outside his door.
Dante's eyebrows rose.
"Little Bird. What are you doing out of your cage?"
The casual condescension in his tone made Serena's hands curl into fists.
But she'd come this far.
No backing down now.
"I need to talk to you."
"I'm not in the mood for—"
"I want to make a deal."
That stopped him.
Dante's expression shifted from annoyance to something sharper.
More interested.
"A deal."
He studied her like she was a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out.
"What exactly do you have to bargain with, Serena?"
"My freedom."
"Your freedom isn't yours to bargain with. It's mine."
"Then let me earn it back."
Dante was silent for a long moment.
Then he opened his study door.
"Get in."
Serena followed him into a room that screamed wealth and power.
Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
A desk that probably cost more than a car.
Windows overlooking the estate grounds.
Dante poured himself two fingers of scotch and dropped into his leather chair with the casual grace of a man who owned everything he touched.
"Talk."
Serena's mouth had gone dry.
This was it.
Her one shot.
If she fucked this up, she'd spend the rest of her life as nothing more than his beautiful, caged bird.
"I can be useful to you."
"You already are. You're decorative."
The dismissal stung.
"I can be more than that."
"How?"
"I have skills. Real skills. I have a degree from Columbia in computer science. Data analysis, coding, cybersecurity..."
She took a breath.
"Hacking."
Dante's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes.
Interest.
Calculation.
"You're a hacker."
"Was. White hat. I worked on security systems, found vulnerabilities before the bad guys could exploit them."
"And now you want to work for me."
It wasn't a question.
"I want to work with you."
Serena stepped closer to his desk.
"In exchange for certain freedoms. The ability to leave this estate sometimes. To breathe fresh air without armed guards hovering. And..."
She swallowed hard.
"I want my door unlocked at night. I'm not an animal in a cage."
Dante set down his glass.
Rose from his chair.
Rounded the desk with predatory slowness until he stood directly in front of her.
"You're asking me to give you freedom in exchange for... what, exactly? You expect me to believe you can do something my entire IT department can't?"
"Your systems are outdated."
Serena forced confidence into her voice even though her insides were liquid fear.
"I've seen them. Your security protocols are at least five years behind current standards. Any decent hacker could breach them if they wanted to."
It was a gamble.
A complete shot in the dark.
She hadn't actually seen his systems.
But she was betting that most criminals—even successful ones—underestimated the importance of cybersecurity.
Dante's hand shot out.
Caught her chin.
Forced her to meet his eyes.
"If you're lying to me, Little Bird, the punishment will be severe."
"I'm not lying."
"Then prove it."
His thumb traced her jaw, the touch somehow both gentle and threatening.
"Tomorrow. You'll audit my systems. Find the vulnerabilities. Fix them. And if you succeed..."
He leaned in close.
So close she could feel his breath on her lips.
"We'll discuss your freedom."
"And if I fail?"
Dante's smile was knife-sharp.
"Then you'll learn that disappointing me has consequences."
He released her.
Stepped back.
Dismissed her with a wave of his hand like she was a servant.
"Enzo will show you to the IT room tomorrow morning. Don't make me regret giving you this chance."
Serena turned to leave, heart still racing.
But his voice stopped her at the door.
"Serena."
She looked back.
"You're clever. I'll give you that. But don't mistake this for trust."
His eyes were cold.
Empty.
"You're still mine. Deal or no deal. Don't forget it."
Serena didn't answer.
She just left, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
Only when she was alone in the hallway did she allow herself to breathe.
To feel the full weight of what she'd just done.
She'd offered Dante Moretti her skills in exchange for the illusion of freedom.
And he'd accepted.
Which meant tomorrow, she'd have to deliver.
I can do this, she told herself.
I have to do this.
Because the alternative—spending the rest of her life as nothing more than his beautiful, broken bird—was not an option she could accept.
One step at a time.
One small victory at a time.
She would survive this.
And maybe—just maybe—she'd find a way to escape.