Page 6 of Ruined By Blood (Feretti Syndicate #2)

I close the door on my way out of Sienna's room, my frustration boiling over. The woman is stubborn to the point of self-destruction. She's clearly terrified, but refusing help even when it's handed to her on a silver platter.

I stride down the hallway, my footsteps echoing against marble as I make my way to Damiano's office. Noah steps aside when he sees my expression, smart enough not to engage.

I push open the heavy wooden door to find my brother still seated behind his desk, phone in hand.

"She's not talking," I announce, dropping into the leather chair across from him. "Sterling's daughter is too fucking scared to give us anything useful. "

Damiano ends his call without ceremony and leans back, studying me with that calculating gaze that's dissected men far more intimidating than I am.

"And you're surprised?" He raises an eyebrow. "If Henry Sterling is half the monster our intel suggests, she's been living in hell."

"I need a different approach."

The solution strikes me suddenly, so obvious I'm annoyed I didn't think of it immediately. "Lucrezia. We need Lucrezia."

Damiano's expression hardens instantly. "No. Absolutely not."

"Listen to me," I lean forward, hands flat on his desk. "They're close in age. Lucrezia has a way with people—look how quickly she bonded with Zoe."

"That was different."

"Was it?" I challenge. "Zoe came here as an enemy, and Lucrezia saw through all that bullshit instantly. Now they're practically sisters."

I can see Damiano considering it, his jaw working as he weighs the options.

"Sienna's traumatized, but she's not going to open up to either of us. We're exactly the kind of men she's been running from." I lower my voice. "Lucrezia understands trauma. She knows what it's like to feel powerless."

Damiano's eyes flash dangerously. "Careful, Enzo."

"I'm not suggesting we use our sister's pain," I clarify. "I'm saying she has a compassion neither of us can offer. Sienna needs that right now."

Silence hangs between us as Damiano weighs my proposal. I know he's thinking of Lucrezia's fragile recovery, the nightmares that still wake her screaming.

"Sienna Sterling is the daughter of one of the most dangerous human traffickers in the country," I press. "If he's looking for her, we need to know exactly what we're dealing with. And she's not going to tell us."

Damiano sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't like involving Lucrezia in family business."

"This isn't business. This is a woman who needs help, and our sister might be the only one who can reach her."

I leave Damiano's office with his reluctant approval and make my way toward Lucrezia's wing of the house. My footsteps slow as I approach her door. Since the attack, these visits have become a delicate dance of knowing when to push and when to back off.

I knock softly. "Luce? It's me."

Silence stretches long enough that I wonder if she's sleeping, then her quiet voice filters through. "Come in."

I push the door open to find my sister curled in the window seat, staring out at the rain that's started to fall. The room is a mess of half-finished sketches and abandoned projects. Her once vibrant art studio corner sits covered in a thin layer of dust.

"Hey." I step carefully around a pile of books on the floor. "Bad day?"

Lucrezia shrugs, not turning from the window. "Not bad. Not good. Just... a day."

I sit across from her, giving her space. It kills me to see her like this—my vibrant, fiery little sister reduced to someone who startles at shadows.

"We have a guest staying with us," I begin carefully. "A woman named Sienna."

This gets her attention. Lucrezia turns slightly, her eyes finding mine with a glimmer of curiosity. It's the most engagement I've seen from her in days .

"Is she a friend?" The question holds a hint of the old Luce's mischief.

"No." I almost smile. "She's someone who needs help. She was attacked at our casino." I don't mention the years of abuse Dr. Romano discovered. One trauma survivor doesn't need to bear another's pain.

Lucrezia's expression softens. "Is she okay?"

"Physically, she'll heal. But she's terrified and won't talk to Damiano or me." I lean forward, careful not to move too quickly. "I thought maybe you could visit her? Just to talk. Woman to woman."

The request hangs between us. I'm asking something significant—for her to step outside her safe cocoon, to face a stranger when some days even family overwhelms her.

Lucrezia looks back toward the rain-streaked window. "Why would she talk to me?"

"Because you're not us," I say simply. "You're not... intimidating."

A ghost of a smile touches her lips. "That's a first. The Feretti men admitting they might scare someone."

I reach for her hand, relieved when she doesn't pull away. "You have a gift, Luce. You see people. You always have."

She's quiet for a long moment, and I don't push. Finally, she nods once.

"I'll try," she whispers. "Not promising anything, but I'll try."

Relief washes through me. "That's all I'm asking. Just a conversation."

Lucrezia tilts her head, studying me with those same perceptive eyes that have seen through my bullshit. Even now, broken as she feels, my sister still reads me like a book .

"Why do you care so much about this stranger, Enzo?" she asks softly.

I look away, focusing on the rain streaking down the window. Truth has always been our currency, even when it cuts deep.

"Because I failed you, Luce," I finally say, my voice barely audible over the rainfall. "I was supposed to protect you, and I didn't."

"Enzo—"

"No," I cut her off, the familiar pain twisting in my chest. "It's the truth. I'm your older brother."

My knuckles go white as I clench my fists, the memory still sharp enough to draw blood. "So maybe this is the universe giving me a second chance. Another girl who needs protection. Someone I can actually help this time."

The silence stretches between us, heavy with shared pain. When I finally look back at her, tears shimmer in Lucrezia's eyes.

"You didn't fail me," she whispers, her voice breaking. "You can't be everywhere, Enzo, not you, neither Damiano. You can't stop every monster."

"I should have stopped yours." The admission tears from my throat, raw and honest.

Lucrezia slides across the window seat and wraps her arms around me, burying her face against my shoulder. I freeze for a moment—she hasn't initiated contact like this in months—before carefully returning the embrace, holding her like she might shatter.

"Help her," she murmurs against my shirt. "Help her because she needs it, not because you're trying to make up for something that was never your fault."

I rest my chin on the top of her head, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. For a moment, she feels like the old Lucrezia again—my fierce little sister who never backed down from anything.

I 'm sitting on the edge of the bed, as far from the door as possible, when I hear a gentle knock. My muscles tense instantly.

The door cracks open before I can decide whether to respond.

A young woman slips inside—early twenties, delicate features, dark waves cascading over one shoulder.

"Hi," she says, her voice soft but not timid. "I'm Lucrezia. Enzo's sister."

I study her face, searching for resemblance to the dangerous man who's keeping me here. Her eyes, perhaps. Same intensity.

"I'm Sienna."

"I know." She moves to the armchair, curling her legs beneath her with casual grace. "Do you mind if I sit? Enzo said you're hurt."

I shrug, unsure what her purpose is here. A softer interrogation strategy?

"I was watching Gossip Girl reruns. Do you watch it? Enzo pretends to hate it, but he knows all the characters."

The image of the intimidating Enzo Feretti watching teen drama makes me blink in surprise. "I... wasn't allowed to watch much TV."

"Oh." Lucrezia tilts her head. "What about music? I'm obsessed with Taylor Swift's new album."

"I like classical," I admit, the response automatic from years of my father's programming about what constituted 'appropriate' culture. "But I secretly listened to pop sometimes. On earbuds."

"Secret listening parties. I get that." She smiles, revealing a dimple in one cheek. "How old are you, Sienna?"

"Twenty-one."

"I'm twenty-two. Just barely older," she says with a grin that momentarily transforms her face. "Do you like art? I paint. Well, I used to. I'm trying to get back into it."

The careful way she says this catches my attention. "I do. I... take photographs. When I can." When I was allowed. When I could steal moments of freedom.

"Really? What kind?"

"Landscapes. Empty spaces." Places without people who could hurt me. "Sunrise over water."

Lucrezia nods slowly. "I get that. Open spaces feel... safer sometimes."

I study Lucrezia's expression, wondering if this apparent openness is genuine or calculated.

"My brother says you were hurt." She doesn't phrase it as a question, which I appreciate. No prying for details.

"Yes." I twist the edge of the blanket between my fingers, an old habit. "I'll survive."

"You're safe here, you know. The compound is like a fortress."

I almost laugh. "A beautiful cage is still a cage. "

"True," she concedes with surprising honesty. "But some cages protect what's inside from predators outside."

"Your brother..." I start, unsure how to phrase my question.

"Is intimidating and bossy and overprotective," she finishes with a small smile. "But he'd die before hurting a woman."

Suddenly, memories of why I'm here flood back—Cortez's hands, the alley behind the casino.

My breathing quickens.

Lucrezia notices immediately. "Sienna? What's wrong?"

"I have to leave," I whisper, panic rising. "My father will be looking for me. The longer I stay missing..."

"Henry Sterling," Lucrezia says flatly, all warmth draining from her voice. "Enzo told me."

I flinch at my father's name.

"He sells women, doesn't he?" Lucrezia asks, suddenly direct. "Is that... is that what he was going to do with you?"

The room feels too small, the air too thin. "He'll come for me. He doesn't let his property escape."

Lucrezia's expression hardens. "You're not property."

My laugh comes out bitter. "Tell that to him. Tell that to Cortez who—" I stop abruptly, realizing I've said too much.

Pain flickers across Lucrezia's face—not pity, but recognition. She stands suddenly.

"I should let you rest. You're still healing." Her voice has gone tight, controlled. "I'm sorry I upset you."

I shake my head. "You didn't. It's just complicated."

"Complicated," she repeats, a distant look in her eyes. "Yeah, I understand complicated."

She moves toward the door, then hesitates. "For what it's worth, my brother has never lost a fight. And my other brother, Damiano? He runs half of this city. If anyone can keep you safe from Henry Sterling, it's the Ferettis."

"Why would they bother?" I ask, genuinely confused.

Lucrezia's hand rests on the doorknob. "Because that's what we do for people who need protection." Her smile is sad.

She slips out, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the terrifying possibility that for the first time in years, I might actually be safe.

For now.