Page 14 of Their Reckless Thief (The Below #1)

CELESTE

The sharp clang of metal on metal jolted me from a restless sleep. I shot up, my heart pounding, my eyes struggling to adjust to the dim light in the cell. The headache that followed the sudden movement had me groaning and clutching my head.

“Rise and shine.” Vincenzo’s deep voice cut through the fog, full of mockery and something darker. I cracked one eye open, peering at him through the bars. He was crouching next to me, his dark eyes narrowing as they swept over me like I was a pathetic creature unworthy of his time.

I closed my eyes again, the pounding in my head making it impossible to think straight. “I don’t feel so good,” I muttered, my voice rough and thick with the weight of exhaustion and something more.

“No shit,” Vincenzo scoffed, leaning in closer, his sharp gaze scanning my face with unnerving precision.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He tilted his head, his dark eyes locking on mine as if he’d just uncovered a devastating secret.

“Your pupils… you’re addicted to Phantomine, aren’t you? ”

I didn’t even bother denying it as I stared at his fangs. What was the point? “Yeah.” My throat was dry, my hands trembling slightly as I tried to steady my breathing. I didn’t want to beg; I hated that I had to, but the need grew inside me, clawing at my chest with every passing second.

“Please,” I rasped, swallowing past the dry lump in my throat. “Just a little. I need it.” It was as if an elephant had planted itself square in the center of my chest. My fingers began to tingle, and my lips went numb. “Please.”

Vincenzo’s expression twisted into something that looked like sadness as he stood, towering over me with that domineering presence that made me feel much smaller than I cared to admit.

The bastard enjoyed the power he had over me entirely too much.

Hell, he probably lived for moments like this, where someone smaller and weaker than him depended on his mercy.

He sighed, as if the whole thing was a major inconvenience. “You really are in over your head, aren’t you?” Vincenzo pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed quickly. “Camilla, bring me a vial of Phantomine.”

Within minutes, a red-haired woman—Camilla, I assumed—appeared and handed a small vial to Vincenzo. He nodded and dismissed her, twirling the vial between his fingers. The glint of the shimmering purple liquid inside made my heart race.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, taunting me with the very thing I was craving.

My body shook as I nodded weakly.

I hated him in that moment. Hated that he had this kind of control over me. But I needed the Phantomine. I’d do anything to stop the agonizing withdrawal clawing at my insides.

Vincenzo chuckled darkly as he shoved the vial into my hand. “Take it. Just shut the fuck up.”

I didn’t hesitate. My fingers fumbled with the cap, and I downed the liquid in one quick gulp. Relief flooded me, a small reprieve from the edge I’d been teetering on. But it was fleeting. Phantomine always was. It was a temporary fix, one that came with a steep consequence.

Addiction.

Vincenzo stared at me for a moment, something unreadable in his expression, before he grabbed my arm and hauled me up to my feet. His grip was firm, but not cruel. Still, the sudden movement made my head spin.

“You need to clean up.” He jerked his head toward the door at the end of the hall. “There’s a bathroom down the hall. You’ll shower, then you’re getting dressed.”

I stumbled along beside him, too weak to fight back, though I probably wouldn’t have even if I could. I was trapped, and until I could figure out a way out of this mess, the only option I had was to play along. For now.

He shoved me toward the bathroom door and tossed a bundle of clothes at me. “Go on. Don’t waste my time.”

I slammed the door behind me and locked it, my breath coming in shallow gasps. The weight of what I’d gotten myself into settled heavy in my chest. I pressed my back against the door, sliding down to the floor as I caught my breath. This was bad. Really fucking bad.

Vincenzo wasn’t only a powerful mafia lord, he was a smart fucker.

He’d been around for several hundred years, and in that time, he’d accumulated wealth, allegiances, and, most importantly, a deep-seated knowledge and understanding of the human and supernatural psyche.

From what Roberto had told us, Vincenzo liked to torture his enemies or victims psychologically before he killed them.

Was that what he was doing to me? Giving me a hit of Phantomine to revive me so he could tear me back down and hold another knife to my throat? Stick his hands down my pants to show he owned every bit of my life?

Taking a deep breath, I got to my feet and started to strip out of my clothes. My reflection looked as terrible as I felt. Dark circles under my eyes, skin pale and clammy. I barely recognized the woman staring back at me.

Turning the shower on, I stepped under the hot spray, letting the water wash away the grime and sweat from the night before. As the steam enveloped me, my mind raced. How the hell was I going to get out of this?

Vivian would be worried. And Roberto... shit. He’d be asking questions soon enough. Vivian would come looking for me, I was sure of it. Well, she’d try. She’d never been to The Below.

But Roberto? He’d take his time, figuring out how I screwed up before he even lifted a finger to help—if he helped at all.

I couldn’t wait for them. I had to figure out a way to get myself out of this mess. The clothes Vincenzo had given me were nice—too nice. Black leather pants, a tight tank top, and a fitted leather jacket, all my size. He knew too much. It made me wonder what else he knew about me.

When I stepped out of the shower and got dressed, I caught a faint whiff of something.

The leather carried the scent of luxury, but also something else.

Something familiar. Him. Of course, it smelled like Vincenzo.

My mind flashed with the memory of him pressing me against the wall in the basement.

Of him licking my arousal from his fingers and groaning.

The way his hard length had pressed into me as he pinned me to the wall, moaning over the taste of my blood like it was the best fucking thing his tongue had ever touched.

Suddenly, I was dripping, and not from the shower.

Fucking traitorous vagina.

I shook it off, trying to clear my head as I dressed. I needed a plan. And fast.

As I glanced at my reflection in the mirror one last time, the gravity of my situation slammed into me. Vincenzo wasn’t some lowlife mob boss I could outwit. He was a predator, a dangerous one, and I was already caught in his snare.

I squared my shoulders, trying to push down the rising panic. Hell, I’d survived this long. I could survive this.

Couldn’t I?

I’d have to. One way or another.

Dorian was leaning against the doorframe when I stepped out of the bathroom, his arms crossed over his broad chest and a playful grin spread across his handsome face. His eyes sparkled with mischief. I instinctively stiffened when he stepped forward and took my arm.

“Look at you, all cleaned up,” he said, his voice low and teasing, as his breath brushed against my ear. “I’ll be your chaperone for the day, love.”

I pulled back slightly and narrowed my eyes. “Lucky me.”

His grin widened. “Oh, trust me, you’ll have a blast.” He wrapped his hand around my arm, though not forcefully. It was almost casual, like he was leading me into a party instead of to a mafia lord’s office where anything could happen.

As we walked through the hallways, Dorian’s presence seemed to fill every corner, his energy carefree but tinged with darkness.

The tension between us was unspoken but also undeniable.

His flirtatious remarks might have seemed lighthearted, but I could sense something lurking beneath the surface, an awareness of the danger we both knew surrounded us.

“So…” He glanced down at me. “How’s it feel to be caught red-handed by some of the most dangerous men in The Below?”

I scoffed, trying to sound nonchalant. “Not great. It could’ve gone better, but hey, I’m still breathing. That counts for something, right?”

Dorian chuckled, his fingers brushing against the inside of my arm in a way that sent an unwanted shiver down my spine. “For now, darling. For now.”

We rounded a corner, and Vincenzo’s study loomed ahead like the mouth of a cave.

It was dark, intimidating, and filled with the kind of power that could crush someone without a second thought.

Dorian pushed the door open with his usual casual air and led me inside.

Vincenzo sat at his desk, deep in conversation with a man who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

The man’s back was to me, but his posture alone made me tense.

This wasn’t going to be a friendly chat.

“Take a seat,” Dorian said, guiding me toward a plush leather chair near the desk. I eyed him but sat, my skin prickling with unease as Vincenzo glanced up, his dark eyes briefly locking with mine before returning to his guest.

I tried to calm my nerves, forcing myself to lean back and look like I wasn’t completely out of my depth.

But I was so fucking far out of my depth.

The door to the office swung open again, and a new figure strode in.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, with an air of authority that felt almost suffocating.

His dark hair was slicked back, his expression unreadable as he dragged a man in by the scruff of his neck.

The guy’s face was bruised, blood trickling from his nose and the corner of his mouth.

He was shoved to the floor, landing in a crumpled heap, and I immediately knew this wouldn’t end well.

“Matteo,” Vincenzo greeted, “always a pleasure. What have you brought for me today?”