Page 6 of Control (Dark Syndicate #1)

Daniela

The sounds wake me up in the dark. At first, it’s just the usual street noise—distant honking, the shuffle of feet, the occasional shout. But this feels different.

I sit up slowly, pulling my knees to my chest while trying to calm the racing in my chest. That’s when I hear it—the unmistakable sound of boots. Heavy. Measured. Like they’re here for something.

I slide my hand under the pillow, my fingers curling around the cold metal of my knife. It’s a reflex, one I can’t help. It’s the only thing that ever made me feel like I had some control in this godforsaken neighborhood.

Then, the door slams open.

I don’t flinch. I don’t scream. But the chill running down my spine? It’s real. My heart beats harder, as though it’s trying to break out of my chest, and my grip tightens on the knife. Whoever’s coming, they won’t be expecting a fight.

Two men step in. Both wear dark suits, their presence swallowing up the room. The taller one has the kind of eyes that see through you. Cold and calculating, like he’s sizing me up. The other doesn’t say a word. He just stands at the door, blocking any chance of escape.

I take a breath, trying to sound steady. “Who the hell are you?”

The tall one doesn’t answer right away. He just watches me. “We’re here to take you to our boss.”

The words hit me, but I don’t let them show. Not yet. “Boss? You’ve got the wrong person.”

“Don’t think so,” he replies, a smirk creeping onto his face. It’s too easy. Like this is nothing new to him.

I swallow hard. I know what this is. The Mafia doesn’t take mistakes lightly.

“Why?” I ask, forcing myself to sound defiant. “Why me? What the hell do you want with me?”

The second man moves, closing in on me. He grabs my arm and yanks it back before I can react. I try to wrench away, but it’s no use. His grip is like iron.

Then, the first guy steps closer, his voice low and firm. “Don’t make this difficult.”

I’m dragged out of the apartment, and my heart hammers with every step. The knife feels like a dead weight in my pocket. It’s useless here. I’m useless here.

When we get outside, they shove me into a car, the doors slamming shut like a final warning. I barely register the drive, too busy trying to breathe, trying not to lose it.

Not long after, we stop in front of a building that doesn’t belong in this neighborhood.

Probably because it doesn’t. We are in the elite area of the city, where the rich live in their shiny, sterile bubbles, worlds apart from everything I’ve known.

It’s shiny and sterile, and it feels like a whole different world.

I don’t even know how they got me here without me noticing. Maybe I wasn’t meant to notice.

I’m shoved into the elevator, my stomach flipping as the doors close behind me.

One second, I’m in my crappy, cramped apartment, the kind that smells like mold and destitution, and the next, I’m staring up at a building so sleek that it might as well be made of glass and ambition.

It’s like a fucking luxury magazine cover come to life.

The ride up feels like a countdown, like the seconds are ticking away toward some inevitable disaster I can’t stop, no matter how hard I try.

I focus on the numbers above the door, watching them climb higher, one after the other, but my mind’s too busy spinning.

What the hell comes next? Who the hell has the power to just drag me out of my life and throw me into this… whatever this is?

When the doors finally open, I’m hit with this heavy, almost suffocating air.

It’s rich, the kind of air that’s been bought and paid for.

The floors gleam like they’ve never known the touch of dirt.

The furniture is sleek, with all sharp lines and polished surfaces, like it’s been designed to intimidate, not welcome.

It all screams power, control, and dominance. But not warmth. Not comfort.

And then there’s me. Standing here in a ragged nightdress, the kind that’s seen better days, and wondering why the hell I’m not running yet.

And there he is. Remo Callegari.

He’s standing in the middle of it all like he owns every single inch of this space. He doesn’t need to move to take over the room. His eyes are locked on me, cold, unblinking, and it’s like he’s sucking all the air out of the place.

I hold his stare, trying to ignore the strange pull I feel. Is it fear? Curiosity? Some darker, twisted mix of both? I don’t know what it is, but I hate it. I hate that my body reacts to him like this. I hate that standing here, in front of him, makes me feel so fucking small.

“Welcome, Dolcezza,” he says, his voice smooth but laced with a threat I can almost taste in the air.

His eyes never leave mine.

“I’m sorry about the means of getting you here, but I’m sure you wouldn’t have complied if I asked nicely.

I’m glad to see you again, Daniela. I want you to have a good time here.

What would you like to drink? Or maybe you’re hungry?

I can have my chef prepare anything you want.

She’s the best this side of the country.

I spent a lot of money to get her to work for me. ”

I barely resist the urge to laugh.

“Are you insane?” I snap instead, fire crackling in my voice. “You break into my house and drag me out in the middle of the night…and now you’re asking if I’m hungry?”

He ignores me like I’m nothing more than an annoying fly buzzing around his head. “Or would you prefer to go to your room? It’s been filled with clothes your size and your favorite perfumes and shampoos. I made sure they were particular about that. Wouldn’t want you to feel out of place here.”

“Are you deaf?” I snap. Because why the hell not? But before I can even finish the sentence, he’s there. He’s so fast that I barely have time to blink. His hand wraps around my neck, slamming me against the wall with enough force to knock the air from my lungs.

I don’t know why my body reacts the way it does. Why his scent—mint and sandalwood—hits me so damn good that it almost makes me ache, and why I want to press my nose against his neck and breathe it all in, even though it’s the last thing I should be thinking about right now.

But I can’t stop. I’m not sane. I never have been.

His grip tightens, and I choke out a breath, trying to push his hand away, though it doesn’t work.

“Now, Dolcezza,” he growls, his voice low and deadly. “Let’s try this again. And I suggest you watch how you talk to me. If you don’t, I’ll make sure you end up in a worse position than you already are. I can do things to you that you won’t ever imagine or recover from.”

Up close now, I see how those gray-blue eyes cut right through me. I didn’t notice them that night, but now I can’t look away. They pierce me with something cold, something sharp that I don’t want to understand.

I haven’t been able to get him out of my head.

Not since that night. Not since he was so close, the heat and darkness that burned off him, a reminder of everything I shouldn’t want.

Even now, I can’t shake the thought of him.

I tried, believe me. I went back to the warehouse, hoping—foolishly—I could find something, some trace of him.

But it was burned to the ground.

Everyone says it was arson. That some notorious gang leader pissed off the wrong people, made the wrong enemies, and got his whole life set on fire. But I know better. I know it was a cover-up.

Of course it was.

He shakes me once, snapping me out of my thoughts. His grip is firm, relentless.

“Is that understood?” he says coldly.

I nod, and he smiles. That damn smile, so sinful, so dangerous. I hate myself for wanting to see it again. He leans in closer now, too close. His breath brushes my cheek, and I can feel his eyes on me like a weight I can’t shake.

“Let’s try this again,” he says again, his voice low.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“I’m Remo Callegari, but I’m sure you already know that by now.”

I glare at him, trying to stay calm. “What am I doing here?”

The corners of his lips twitch, but it’s not amusement. He leans in a little further, his presence overwhelming, like he’s trying to consume me.

“You saw something you shouldn’t have,” he says, his voice dropping to a darker pitch. “Now you’re a problem. A loose end.”

“I already told you I wouldn’t talk,” I snap. “You didn’t have to abduct me. This is a crime. You have no right.”

He steps forward, closing the gap between us until I can smell the dark, expensive cologne he’s wearing. It should repulse me, but it doesn’t. Instead, it draws me in like a drug I can’t resist.

“You see, that’s where you’re wrong.” His voice drips with confidence, so much so that it makes my blood boil. “I have every right. When I see something I want, I take it. No rules. No time to waste on the consequences.”

“So I’m what now? Your prisoner?” I can’t keep the bitterness from slipping into my voice. “This isn’t a Beauty and the Beast spin-off. You can’t just keep people against their will.”

His jaw clenches, a muscle twitching beneath his skin, his anger barely contained. “I can, and I will. You don’t have a choice anymore.”

His words hit me like a slap.

“In the meantime,” he says, his tone shifting slightly, “make yourself at home. Over there is Livia.”

He points to a petite woman standing across the room.

Her sharp green eyes are scanning me with curiosity.

Her short blonde hair is messy, and she’s dressed in black leather combat boots.

She gives me a quick salute and a wink, but I can’t help but wonder why she’s dressed like she’s about to go to war at this hour.

In fact, they all are. The three men and Livia who are surrounding me in this lavish, absurd penthouse. It’s too much, too polished, too perfect. The marble floors beneath my bare feet are like ice, and the windows show the city outside, distant and unreachable, a world I no longer belong to.

I want to run. My feet itch to move, to escape, but I know better. There’s no way out, not without a fight, not without being dragged back and locked away again.

This place is like a showroom. Everything is immaculate—too immaculate. It’s like they’ve scrubbed away any trace of humanity and replaced it with something cold, shiny, and impersonal.

And I? I’m the filthy little secret they’ve decided to claim.

I can feel my heart still pounding, but now it’s mixed with a rising anger. The kind of anger that comes from being underestimated. From being handled like I’m nothing.

I glance back at Remo, and there he is, still standing too close, his body heat making my skin tingle. I refuse to let him see how rattled I am. I won’t give him that satisfaction.

He studies me, his eyes sharp as knives, cutting through me, stripping me down. It’s like he’s trying to read my soul and see through every wall I’ve built, and I hate him for it.

“Don’t worry,” he says again, softer this time. “You’ll be safe. For as long as you’re here.”

I stare at him, trying to process it, but the more I do, the more I feel like I’m drowning. His eyes lock onto mine, intense and unyielding. It’s like he’s trying to break me with just a look, to force me into submission without even touching me.

“So what? I’m supposed to stay inside all day, hiding because of something that, honestly, the cops probably don’t care about anymore?” I scoff, the sarcasm slipping out before I can stop it. “You’ve already covered your tracks. So why the hell are you still doing this?”

“You’re a liability,” he says with brutal honesty as if it’s no big deal. “That’s why you’re here. I’m keeping you from becoming a problem I don’t need to deal with.”

His words are casual and detached, but there’s something about them that stings. He’s not afraid to treat this like business. Like I’m just another inconvenience to be dealt with.

I feel my pulse spike, my anger rising again. I’ve never been so pissed off in my life.

“Besides,” he adds, like he’s offering me a favor, “I never said you can’t go out.

You can visit the one friend I know you have, go shopping, whatever.

I’ve deposited money into an account for you.

You can spend it however you like, but you’ll be supervised.

Livia here will always go with you, along with two of my men. You won’t be alone.”

I try not to scoff, but it’s hard. “Honestly, this is ridiculous. Why not just kill me? Get it over with.” I throw the words at him, testing his reaction. “Why keep me alive? What’s the point?”

His lips curl. There’s a hint of amusement there, but it’s twisted. Like he enjoys this, enjoys me squirming. “You’re alive because I’ve decided to let you be. Test me, and you’ll wish I hadn’t.”

I tilt my head, trying to figure him out, but I know I won’t. Not now. Maybe never. “You really think that’s enough to keep me here? To make me just…accept this?”

His eyes turn sharp. “Do you really think you have a choice?”

I want to retort, scream, and throw the anger that’s bubbling up in me right at him, but I can’t. There’s something in his eyes, something that holds me in place. It’s like he’s figured me out, every little part of me. Every flicker, every breath. He’s too damn in control.

“You think the world bends to you because you’ve got power and money? Newsflash: I’m not yours to control.”

His eyes darken, and he takes another step closer. I feel the space between us narrow, the air thickening. It’s too close. Too damn close.

“You’ve got it all wrong, Daniela.” His voice has dropped. “It’s not about owning you. It’s because you’re the one thing I can’t figure out, and I don’t like mysteries.”

“Why me?” I ask again. “Why not just…let me go?” My voice cracks, but I push through it.

His eyes narrow slightly, and I see that spark of recognition, of control, burning through.

Remo breathes in deep, and when he replies, his voice is low, like he’s revealing something he never meant to.

“Because I don’t let people go.” He looks at me, his eyes heavy with that dark pull, and I feel myself sinking.

“And I don’t leave loose ends, Daniela. Not anymore.

Especially when they’re as tangled up in this as you are. ”

The ice-cold truth hits me. I don’t let him see it, but I feel it in my bones.

I take a shaky breath. “What is it that you think I’m a part of?”

His eyes stay locked on mine. “You’re part of the story now, Daniela. Whether you like it or not.”

”And what happens to the people in your story?”

“They die,” he says, simple and cold, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “At least the ones who don’t learn their place.”

It’s not a warning. It’s a fact.

There’s no going back anymore. I’m no longer just some innocent witness, some random girl who stumbled into a world she wasn’t meant to see. I’m tangled up in it now, whether I want to be or not. And the worst part? I know there’s no escape.