Chapter Eight
Nina's POV
I couldn't stop staring.
The red room pulsed around me like a living thing, shadows dancing across leather and steel. My heart hammered so hard I could hear it in my ears, louder than the muffled chaos somewhere above.
Gunshots. Definitely gunshots.
And shouting. Male voices barking orders.
I should've been terrified and I was, part of me was but standing here surrounded by chains and silk and things I'd only ever seen in forbidden corners of the internet, I felt something else entirely.
Fascination.
My fingers traced along the edge of the padded table, feeling the smooth, expensive leather. Everything in here was pristine. Cared for. Used but treasured.
What kind of woman comes here willingly?
The thought sent a shiver down my spine.
What kind of woman enjoys this?
I picked up a silk blindfold, running the fabric through my fingers. It was softer than anything I'd ever touched, the kind of softness that promised surrender.
My mind flashed unbidden to the scene downstairs. The woman's arched back, her breathless moans. The way the men had touched her firm, commanding, but reverent somehow. Like she was precious even as they took her apart.
Yes, Daddy.
Heat pooled low in my belly.
I set the blindfold down quickly, as if it had burned me.
This was insane. People were trying to kill me. I was locked in an underground panic room. My father had sold me like livestock.
And here I was, getting wet thinking about…
A loud bang echoed from above, closer this time.
I jumped, pulse spiking.
Then silence.
Heavy, oppressive silence.
I backed away from the table, suddenly aware of how exposed I was. If someone got through—if those attackers made it past Dante, Nikolai, and Enzo—I'd be trapped down here. Helpless.
I retreated into the panic room, leaving the red door ajar. My eyes darted to the steel door leading upstairs.
Still locked.
Come on, Enzo. Come back.
The minutes crawled by like hours. I paced the small concrete space, arms wrapped around myself, trying to control my breathing.
They won't get in. They won't. Enzo promised.
But what if he was wrong? What if ?
The lock disengaged with a sharp click.
I froze.
The steel door swung open.
Enzo stepped through, and my breath caught.
Blood.
There was blood on his hands, his forearms, spattered across his white T-shirt in dark red streaks. His jaw was tight, eyes hard and flat in a way I hadn't seen before.
Dangerous.
Not playful, not teasing. This was the man beneath the smirk the killer they'd hired.
"You okay?" he asked, voice clipped.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
His gaze swept over me, clinical, checking for injuries. Then his eyes caught on the open door behind me.
The red room.
His expression shifted surprise, then something darker. His jaw ticked.
"You found it," he said quietly.
It wasn't a question.
"I didn't mean to …" I stammered. "The door was there, and I thought maybe…"
"It's fine," he cut me off, but his tone said otherwise.
He stepped past me, glancing into the red room. His shoulders tensed.
"Did you touch anything?" he asked.
My cheeks burned. "No. I mean just looked."
He turned back to me, studying my face. "Just looked."
"Yes."
"Uh-huh."
The way he said it made my stomach flip.
"What happened up there?" I asked, desperate to change the subject. "Is everyone okay? Are you okay ?"
"We're fine," he said. "They're not."
They're dead.
He didn't say it, but I heard it anyway.
"How many?" I whispered.
"Four." He wiped his hands on his jeans, smearing blood across the dark fabric. "Sent to test our defenses. See if you were really here."
"And now they know."
"Now they're dead," he corrected. "And whoever sent them knows we're not fucking around."
He moved toward me, and I backed up instinctively. He noticed, mouth twitching.
"Relax, kitten. If I wanted to hurt you, I'd have done it by now."
"That's not comforting."
"It wasn't meant to be."
He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could smell the gunpowder and sweat on him, mixed with the faint scent of his cologne.
"Dante wants to see you," he said.
My stomach dropped. "Why?"
"Because you found our office. Read our files. And now you've seen the red room." His eyes glinted. "He's not happy."
"I didn't mean…"
"Doesn't matter what you meant. You know too much now." He leaned in slightly. "And Dante doesn't like loose ends."
Fear spiked through me, cold and sharp. "Are you saying ?"
"I'm saying," Enzo interrupted, "you need to come upstairs and face him. Now."
The house was a war zone.
Bullet holes pocked the walls. Glass crunched under my feet. Furniture was overturned, one of the massive windows overlooking the ocean was shattered.
And in the center of it all stood Dante.
He was on his phone, speaking in rapid Italian, his free hand gesturing sharply. Blood streaked his knuckles. His shirt was torn at the shoulder.
Nikolai leaned against the kitchen counter, cleaning a gun with methodical precision. He looked up as we entered, dark eyes unreadable.
Dante ended his call and turned to face me.
The air shifted.
"Sit," he said, pointing to the couch.
I sat.
Enzo remained standing near the door, arms crossed. Nikolai set his gun down but didn't move closer.
Dante approached slowly, each step deliberate. He stopped directly in front of me, looming.
"You went into my office," he said.
Not a question. An accusation.
"I , I mean yes," I admitted. There was no point lying.
"You read the contract."
"Yes."
"And?"
I swallowed hard. "And I know my father sold me. For four point seven million dollars. As collateral."
Dante's expression didn't change. "What else?"
"That's it. That's all I saw before Enzo came in "
"What else did you find?" Dante's voice dropped, lethal and soft.
My pulse hammered. "Nothing. I swear."
"Enzo," Dante said without looking away from me. "Did she take anything?"
"I searched her," Enzo said from behind me. "She's clean."
Dante's eyes narrowed. "You're sure."
"Positive."
The tension stretched, taut as a wire.
Then Dante crouched in front of me, bringing us eye-level. This close, I could see the faint scar bisecting his left eyebrow, the flecks of gold in his dark eyes.
"Do you know why those men came here tonight, Nina?" he asked quietly.
I shook my head.
"They came to kill you."
The words hit like a punch.
"Not to kidnap you. Not to ransom you. To kill you." He leaned closer. "Because your father didn't just sell you to us for protection. He sold you to hide you. From the people he owes money to. The people who want him dead and you along with him."
My breath came in short, shallow gasps. "What?"
"Your father is a dead man walking," Dante continued. "He's made enemies. Dangerous ones. And when they couldn't get to him, they decided to go after what he loves most."
"Me," I whispered.
"You."
Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
"So he sent you here," Dante said. "Told us to keep you safe. Paid us a fortune to do it. But he didn't tell you the truth, did he?"
I shook my head mutely.
"He let you think this was temporary. That you'd go home after the funeral. That everything would be fine." Dante's jaw clenched. "He lied to you, Nina. And now you're stuck with us. Because the second you leave this house, you're dead."
The room spun.
"How long?" I managed.
"How long what?"
"How long do I have to stay here?"
Dante stood, looking down at me with something that might've been pity.
"Until we eliminate the threat. Or until your father pays his debts." He paused. "Neither of which is happening anytime soon."
"So I'm—"
"You're ours," he said simply. "For the foreseeable future."
Ours.
The word sent a shiver through me.
"And the red room?" I asked before I could stop myself.
Dante's gaze sharpened. Nikolai's head lifted. Even Enzo shifted behind me.
"What about it?" Dante asked softly.
"What is it for?"
Silence.
Then Dante smiled slow, dark, dangerous.
"It's for pleasure, Nina. And pain. And everything in between." He tilted his head. "It's where we take women who want to surrender. Who want to be owned. Used. Broken apart and put back together."
My mouth went dry.
"Does that scare you?" he asked.
Yes.
No.
I don't know.
"It should," Nikolai said from across the room, his voice a low rumble.
Dante ignored him, eyes locked on mine. "You saw the restraints. The toys. The tools. You saw what's in there."
I nodded.
"And you didn't run screaming."
"I couldn't," I stammered. "The door was locked."
"Enzo unlocked it when he came down," Dante countered. "You could've run up those stairs. But you didn't. You stayed. And you looked."
Heat flooded my cheeks.
"So I'll ask you again, Nina. Does it scare you?"
I met his gaze, heart pounding.
"Yes," I whispered.
"Good," Dante said. He straightened, stepping back. "Fear keeps you sharp. Keeps you alive."
He turned toward the stairs, then paused.
"One more thing," he said without looking back. "You're ours now. Whether you like it or not. And if you're smart…" He glanced over his shoulder, eyes burning into mine. "…you'll learn to like it."
Then he was gone, footsteps echoing up the stairs.
Nikolai followed without a word, leaving me alone with Enzo.
I stared at the floor, hands trembling.
"He means it," Enzo said quietly.
I looked up. He was watching me with an expression I couldn't read.
"Means what?"
"All of it." He pushed off the doorframe and crossed to me, crouching where Dante had been moments before. "You're ours, kitten. And whether you admit it or not…" His fingers brushed my knee, feather-light. "…you want to be."
My breath hitched.
He stood, leaving me cold where his touch had been.
"Get some sleep," he said, heading for the stairs. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
And then I was alone.
In a house full of killers.
With a target on my back.
And a red room waiting in the dark below.