Page 5 of Ruined By Blood (Feretti Syndicate #2)

I stride through the hallways, my mind still replaying the woman's terrified expression when she woke in my guest room. I don't bother knocking before pushing open the heavy oak door to Damiano's office.

My brother sits behind his massive desk, sleeves rolled up to reveal the intricate tattoos covering his forearms. His normally immaculate hair looks slightly disheveled, evidence of the interrupted weekend plans.

Zoe stands by the window, her blonde hair catching the afternoon light as she turns toward me.

"You didn't have to come back," I say, the guilt hitting me as I take in their casual clothes. "I could have handled this. "

Damiano's dark eyes assess me with that calculating gaze that misses nothing. "When my consigliere calls about an unconscious, beaten woman in our territory, we come back. Period."

Zoe offers a small smile. "We can have another weekend."

"What I need to know," Damiano continues, leaning forward on his desk, "is who she is. Did you know her before last night?"

I crack my knuckles, a habit from childhood that surfaces when I'm agitated.

"No. First time I saw her was at the bar.

She stood out—nervous, uncomfortable in her own skin.

Then some prick showed up, calling her his 'property for the evening.

' Something felt wrong, but she left with him.

Next thing I know, I'm finding her half-dead behind our fountain. "

Damiano's jaw tightens. "Property?"

"Yeah. Had to stop myself from breaking his fucking jaw right there."

"And we have no ID? Nothing?" Damiano asks.

I shake my head. "She's terrified. Won't talk."

"Romano said she shows signs of long-term abuse," Damiano says, tapping his fingers on the desk. "Someone's been hurting her for a while."

"She was drugged and beaten on our property, Damiano. Our fucking territory."

Damiano's phone rings, interrupting our conversation. He glances at it and answers with a curt, "Alessio."

I watch his expression change as he listens, eyes narrowing. He puts the call on speaker and places the phone on his desk.

"Repeat that," Damiano commands.

"Henry Sterling's men are all over the casino," Alessio's deep voice fills the room. "They're looking for his daughter. Disappeared last night. The description matches your mystery woman."

My blood turns cold. Henry fucking Sterling. Even in our world, that name carries weight—and not the good kind.

"Sterling's daughter," I repeat, remembering the blonde woman's terrified eyes. "You're sure?"

"Positive," Alessio confirms. "I recognized her from the security footage you sent. That's Sienna Sterling. Only child of Henry Sterling. Word is he's offering a substantial reward for her return."

"Sterling's into human trafficking, weapons, drugs—all the shit we don't touch," Damiano says, rubbing his thumb along his lower lip thoughtfully.

"And apparently beating his own daughter," I add, rage coiling in my gut like a viper.

Zoe's face pales. "That poor woman."

"Find out everything about both of them," Damiano orders Alessio. "And I mean everything."

"Already on it," Alessio responds before Damiano ends the call.

My brother turns to me, his expression grave. "Be careful, Enzo. Sterling's not someone to fuck with lightly."

"Neither am I," I say, already moving toward the door. "Now that I know who she is, she'll talk."

I make my way back to the guest suite, determination fueling each step. She needs to understand that her silence isn't protecting her anymore. Whatever she's afraid of, I need to know so I can fight it.

When I enter the room, she's standing by the window, tension visible in every line of her body. She turns at the sound of the door, eyes widening with apprehension .

"Your father is looking for you," I say without preamble.

Her face drains of color. She takes a step back, her legs hitting the edge of the bed.

"Henry Sterling." I continue, watching her reaction carefully.

A small sound escapes her—something between a whimper and a gasp. She wraps her arms around herself as if trying to disappear.

I move closer, careful to keep my movements slow and unthreatening. "I need your name."

She looks up at me, tears filling her eyes. For a long moment, she says nothing. Then her lips part, and in a voice barely audible:

"Sienna. My name is Sienna Sterling."

" I 'm pleased to meet you, Sienna Sterling."

Enzo stands before me with that name hanging in the air between us. My name. My prison sentence stamped on my birth certificate. The identity I've already tried to escape by running.

"Please," I whisper, my voice barely audible even to my own ears. My hands twist in the soft blanket covering my lap, the fabric bunching between my fingers. "Don't take me back."

His eyes narrow slightly, those dark depths calculating as he watches me. The silence stretches between us, heavy with all the things I won't say. Can't say. Because once I start talking, the floodgates will open, and I don't know if I'll ever stop.

"I'd rather you kill me." The words slip out, raw and honest. My first truth in this beautiful prison of his. "If those are my options—going back or dying—I choose death."

He moves closer, each step measured and controlled, his massive frame blocking the light from the windows.

"Kill me," I say again, not a question but a request. My voice steadies with the certainty of it. "It would be a mercy compared to what he'll do when he finds me."

"I need you to talk to me." Enzo's voice softens just slightly, though the steel remains. "Soon. Not everything, not all at once, but something. If I don't know what I'm protecting you from, I can't keep you safe."

I look up at him, this dangerous man offering protection when I've known nothing but possession.

"Why would you protect me at all?" I ask, the question escaping before I can stop it.

For a moment, he doesn't answer, and I wonder if I've pushed too far. Men like him don't explain themselves to anyone, especially not to girls like me.

"In my family," he finally says, his voice low and controlled, "we don't allow others to beat women on our properties."

The bluntness of his statement catches me off guard.

"The Venetian Rose is ours. What happens there reflects on us." He takes another step closer. "Whoever did this to you did it on Feretti ground. That makes it my business."

I study his face, searching for the lie. For the hidden agenda that must be there. No one helps without expecting something in return. That's the first lesson my father taught me.

"So it's about... pride?" I ask carefully, still trying to understand. "Your reputation?"

His dark eyes hold mine, unflinching. "It's about what we stand for. There are lines we don't cross. Lines we don't let others cross on our territory."

I almost want to laugh at the irony. A criminal with a moral code. A monster with principles.

"Who was the man at the bar?" Enzo asks, his voice hardening. "The one who called you his property?"

I flinch at the memory, feeling the phantom grip of Cortez's fingers digging into my arm.

"What the hell happened, Sienna?" Enzo presses when I remain silent.

My fingers twist the blanket tighter. "I appreciate everything you've done for me," I say carefully, measuring each word.

The guest room, the clothes, the doctor.

Kindnesses that feel like traps waiting to spring.

"I'll repay whatever it cost you, whatever you want, but I can't... I won't say anything that will make me regret it. "

"You don't understand," I continue when he doesn't speak. "Telling you will only put me in bigger danger than I already am."

"I'm offering protection," he says, as though it's that simple. As though words could be shields.

I shake my head, a bitter almost-smile touching my lips. "There are some people you can't protect me from. Trust me, killing now would be better for you too."

Enzo crosses his arms, his broad shoulders blocking more of the window light. "Better for me?" The question comes with a dangerous edge .

"Safer," I clarify, meeting his gaze directly. "You have no idea what you're getting involved in."

"Try me."

The invitation hangs between us, tempting in its simplicity.

"I can't," I whisper, dropping my gaze to my hands. "I just can't."

The silence stretches between us, thick with all the things I won't say and all the dangers he doesn't know are already hunting me.