The knife flies past my head so fast I feel the wind in my hair.
I scream and duck, covering my face with my hands. My heart pounds like a drum in my chest. When I look up, Dante is laughing, pulling the knife from where it stuck in the wall behind me.
"Relax, princess," he says, spinning the knife between his fingers. "If I wanted to hit you, I would have."
"That's not funny!" My voice shakes. I'm still on the floor, my whole body trembling.
"It's a little funny." Dante grins, but his eyes are cold. "Consider it lesson one. Pay attention, or you'll get hurt."
I want to cry. I want to run. But there's nowhere to go. The door is locked, and even if it wasn't, there are four of them and one of me. Four dangerous men who could do anything they want.
Marco walks into the room, and Dante straightens up immediately. Marco doesn't look at me at first. He's reading something on his phone, his face blank and expressionless. When he finally glances my way, I feel like he's looking through me, not at me.
"Stop terrorizing her," Marco says quietly. "We need her cooperative, not traumatized."
"I'm just having fun," Dante protests.
"Have fun somewhere else." Marco's voice doesn't get louder, but something in it makes Dante leave the room without another word.
Now it's just me and Marco. Somehow, that feels worse.
He sits in the chair across from me, crossing his legs. He still hasn't really looked at me—not like a person looks at another person. More like someone examining a math problem.
"Do you understand why you're here?" he asks.
I shake my head. My throat feels tight.
"Your father took something from us. Something very valuable. We're keeping you until he returns it." Marco says this like he's explaining homework, not kidnapping. "The faster he cooperates, the faster you go home."
"My dad wouldn't take anything from you," I whisper. "He's a good person."
Marco's lips twitch, almost like he wants to smile. "Everyone thinks their father is good. But people are rarely what they seem."
He stands up and walks to the door. Before he leaves, he turns back. "The rules are simple. Don't try to escape. Don't cause trouble. Do what we say. If you follow the rules, you won't get hurt."
"And if I don't?"
Marco tilts his head. "Then I can't protect you from the others."
The door clicks shut behind him, and I'm alone again.
Time moves strangely here. I don't have my phone or a watch. The windows are covered, so I can't tell if it's day or night. I could have been here for hours or days. Everything blurs together.
The door opens again, and this time it's Luca.
I remember him from before—the one who carried me when I couldn't walk. He has kind eyes, which doesn't make sense. How can someone who kidnapped me have kind eyes?
"I brought you food," he says, setting a tray on the table. It's just a sandwich and water, but my stomach growls. I haven't eaten since... I can't remember.
I don't move toward the food. What if it's poisoned? What if it's some kind of trick?
Luca notices my hesitation. He picks up half the sandwich and takes a bite. "See? It's safe."
Slowly, I reach for the other half. The first bite tastes like nothing, but by the second bite, I'm so hungry I can barely chew fast enough.
"Slow down," Luca says gently. "You'll make yourself sick."
I want to hate him. I should hate him. But he's the only one who's been nice to me, and right now, I need nice.
"Why are you doing this?" I ask between bites.
"Doing what?"
"Being nice to me. The others don't care."
Luca is quiet for a long time. "Just because we're doing something bad doesn't mean we have to be cruel about it."
"That doesn't make sense."
"No," he agrees. "It probably doesn't."
He sits with me while I eat. He doesn't talk much, but his presence is calming. When I finish, he takes the tray and leaves without saying goodbye.
Alessandro comes next.
He doesn't say anything at all. He just stands in the doorway, watching me with dark, unreadable eyes. I pull my knees to my chest, trying to make myself smaller. Maybe if I'm small enough, he won't see me.
But he sees everything. I can feel his gaze like a weight on my skin.
"Why do you just stare?" I finally ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Alessandro doesn't answer. He just keeps watching, like I'm some kind of puzzle he's trying to solve.
After what feels like forever, he speaks. "You're stronger than you look."
I blink, confused. "What?"
"Most people would be crying by now. Begging. You're doing neither."
"I cried before," I admit.
"But not now." He steps into the room, and I press myself against the wall. "That's interesting."
"Please don't hurt me," I whisper.
Alessandro stops. For a second, something flickers across his face—something almost like surprise. Then it's gone, replaced by that blank expression.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he says. Then he leaves.
I don't know if I believe him.
The days blur together. Luca brings me food. Marco asks me questions about my father that I can't answer. Dante makes jokes that aren't funny. Alessandro watches.
I learn their patterns. Luca comes in the morning. Marco in the afternoon. Dante whenever he's bored. Alessandro at night.
I learn the rules. Don't go near the windows. Don't touch anything. Don't ask questions. Don't cry where they can see me.
I learn to be invisible.
But on the fourth day—or maybe the fifth—everything changes.
I'm half asleep when I hear shouting. Not in my room, but somewhere else in the house. Loud, angry voices. Something crashes.
I press my ear to the door, trying to hear.
"—father won't negotiate—"
"—running out of time—"
"—what if we're wrong—"
Then silence.
The door suddenly opens, and I stumble back. All four of them are there, standing in the hallway. Their faces are serious, scary serious.
"Get up," Marco says. "We're moving you."
"Moving me where?"
"Now, Isabella."
Luca steps forward like he's going to help me, but Alessandro holds up a hand, stopping him. They're all tense, like something bad is about to happen.
My heart starts racing again. "What's going on?"
"Your father made a mistake," Marco says coldly. "A very big mistake."
Dante grabs my arm, pulling me into the hallway. "Come on, princess. Time to go."
"Go where? What did my father do?"
No one answers.
They rush me through the house, their grips tight on my arms. I try to look around, to figure out where I am, but everything happens too fast.
We reach a different room, deeper in the house. Darker. Colder.
And that's when I see it.
A chair in the middle of the room. Ropes hanging from the arms.
"No," I breathe. "No, no, no—"
"Your father needs motivation," Marco says, his voice empty of emotion. "We're going to give it to him."
I try to run, but Dante's grip is too strong. He pushes me toward the chair.
"Please!" I scream. "I didn't do anything! Please!"
Luca looks away. Alessandro's face is stone. Marco watches without feeling.
And Dante smiles.
"Lesson two, princess," he whispers in my ear. "Sometimes following the rules isn't enough."
They push me into the chair, and I hear the ropes being pulled tight.