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I jerk in surprise, turning toward the sound, my heart leaping violently. My captor stands there, towering beside the bed. My breath catches painfully as I take him in—his features are strong and sharply defined, handsome in a terrifying way, eyes a startling steel-gray threaded with golden flecks, like lightning flashing through storm clouds. His body fills the space around him, broad shoulders encased in a dark suit.

Fear coils tight around my throat.

Memories flicker back suddenly—this man leaning close, me grabbing his hair, shoving him desperately. The other man—I bit him. My stomach lurches sickeningly at the vivid memory, the metallic taste of his blood fresh in my mouth. Dear Mother Mary, forgive me. Tears spring hotly to my eyes as guilt churns inside me.

“Ti prego, perdonami,” I sob, my voice trembling as I plead desperately, tears burning my cheeks. “I—I didn't mean to hurt you or your friend. Please, let me go back to my Nonna.”

His studies me for a long, silent moment, then takes a slow step forward, making my heart skip painfully.

“The man who died in your Nonna’s café,” he begins calmly, eyes pinning me mercilessly.

“I—I don't know him!” I blurt quickly, shaking my head so hard it aches. “Please, believe me. He just stumbled inside, bleeding. Then he died. That's all I know!”

He leans closer. I shrink back, instinctively pressing into the pillows, my chest rising and falling rapidly.

“What did he tell you?”

I hesitate a heartbeat too long. “Nothing.”

In a merciless motion, his hand clamps around my throat, forcing a strangled gasp from my mouth. His grip is strong, calloused fingers pressing against my windpipe—not fully choking, but tight enough to send cold, sharp terror racing through my veins.

His face comes closer, voice a dangerous whisper. “Don't lie to me, little girl. If you lie, not only will I kill you—but I'll make you watch as I destroy everyone you've ever loved, piece by piece. Capisci?”

My lungs strain for air as tears stream uncontrollably down my face. Trembling violently, I nod weakly beneath his punishing grip.

“Speak,” he orders quietly, easing his hold just enough to let me breathe.

“Diamonds!” I choke out, sobbing, my voice raw and broken. “He said something about diamonds, that they belonged to me. I swear, that's all he said! I don't even know what he meant, I promise!”

He releases my throat abruptly, and I cough painfully, gasping for air as I curl onto my side, shaking.

His eyes narrow dangerously, watching me like a predator assessing its prey. “What else did he say?”

“Nothing, I swear on my life,” I plead desperately. “He fell and died.”

He straightens slowly, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. His calmness terrifies me even more.

His hands move to the back of his shirt and my heart leaps.

I cry out weakly, desperate. “Wait, I need to pee.”

His eyebrows shoot upward, a brief flash of surprise crossing his face. My cheeks burn, humiliated, but the need is overwhelming, tears rolling freely.

“Please, I need to use the bathroom,” I beg, sobbing.

With an irritated sigh, he turns sharply and moves toward the door. He opens it partially and barks an order down the corridor.

“Vieni subito qui.” Come here, now.

A woman enters swiftly, keeping her gaze lowered submissively. She glances briefly at the intimidating figure beside her and waits nervously. The man steps back, allowing her to approach.

He gives her the key to my hand cuffs and then casts me a final, unreadable look before turning away. “Be quick,” he commands sharply, leaving the room and closing the door firmly behind him.

The woman carefully unlocks the cuff from my wrist. My skin feels fiery, tender beneath the cold metal as blood rushes back into my fingers. She gently steadies me, helping me sit upright, but even that small movement sends sharp pain stabbing through my head. The room tilts and sways, threatening to drag me back down into the darkness.

I groan softly, barely staying upright as nausea twists sharply in my stomach.

“Easy,” she murmurs softly, her hand firm on my arm, guiding me carefully toward a small, worn door in the corner of the room.