Chapter 5 Now's my chance.

V I V I A N A

The moment I am dragged through the doors of the ballroom, the noise behind me vanishes, swallowed by thick walls and distance, and all that remains is the sound of my own voice tearing itself apart as I scream, curse, threaten, beg, anything to keep myself from disappearing into the night like this, like a body being removed from a crime scene.

Hands are locked around my arms, fingers digging deep and forcing me forward through corridors I know better than my own reflection. This house has watched me grow, watched me bleed, watched me train until my body shook, and now it watches me be ripped out of it without protest. Servants press themselves against the walls as we pass, their eyes lowered and their mouths shut tight. No one intervenes, no one even flinches, and that makes me fight even harder.

My heels scrape against the marble, my dress tangling around my legs as I snarl like a feral animal, twisting, biting, kicking wherever I can reach. That's when one of my elbows slams backwards and connects with a rib, followed by a grunt from one of the guards holding onto me. I feel the grip around my right arm loosen for half a second, and that's all the time I need. I rip my arm free long enough to slam my palm into a throat, making the man choke and stumble, eventually letting me go as well. Now, there's no one holding onto me, and the moment I'm free, I feel something wild ignite inside my chest.

Now's my chance.

And there's no way in hell I am leaving quietly.

But before I know it, I feel someone yank my hair, pain spreading across my scalp immediately and causing rage to take over completely, cancelling out fear and thought and leaving only instinct. I hold onto the wrist of the person holding my hair and twist sharply, ducking low before driving my knee up hard towards his stomach. I feel it connect, then hear the man grunt out loud, the air leaving him completely, just as he finally lets go of my hair. Another man lunges, and I immediately grab his wrist, bending it the wrong way and soon hearing a sharp crack, right before he screams. I am breathing hard, my lungs burning, blood roaring in my ears, and the world narrowed to movement and survival.

They did not expect this.

I rip free again, stumbling but upright, and my gaze snaps to the holster at one man's hip... A gun... so close it feels like destiny reaching out a hand...

And so, I move before anyone can stop me. My fingers wrap around the grip, the feeling all too familiar, as I tear it free and spin, raising it with both hands, and pointing it right at the man who's behind all of this...

Don Dante Accardi...

The very same man who watched me take down his men single-handedly.

My arms tremble, but my aim is true, and my training takes over. Years of drills, years of muscle memory have all led me to this moment. To face the man that's trying to kidnap me...

He stands at arm's reach, watching me carefully, his gaze momentarily shifting from the gun, then to me.

He doesn't move a muscle, and looks far from a man afraid of being shot. His gaze is locked on me, dark with intent, and something in his eyes tells me he already knows how this ends.

Without thinking, I fire.

The sound rips through the night, sharp and muffled through the silencer fitted at the tip of the gun, and at the exact same moment, hands clamp around my wrists and wrench them upward. The shot tears into the open sky, sparks flaring somewhere above, and the recoil jolts through my arms uselessly as the gun is forced from my grip.

My breath leaves me in a broken sound as I stare at him in disbelief. I have never seen someone with such reflections...

As he holds onto my wrists, forcing my arms high until my shoulders scream, he tugs me towards him until my body collides with his, forcing me to look up at him, our faces only inches apart. My pulse hammers so hard it feels like my chest might split open. I quickly snap out of it, realising that no matter how handsome he is, this is the same man who is trying to kidnap me and force me into a marriage I never asked for. And so I begin to thrash, trying to bring my knee up, trying to bite, trying to do anything to free myself, but he shifts with me, close enough that I can smell him, clean, dark and dangerous, close enough that his presence crowds every thought out of my head.

"That's enough, dollface," he says quietly and smoothly, as if stating a fact that has always been true.

"Fuck you." I hiss at him, just as I stop fighting him, realising that I'm only wasting my energy. My wrists twist painfully, and that's when he reaches up to my hands and takes the gun away. That's when he spins me around and pins my hands to my back instead, forcing my back to his chest.

"It's gonna take a little more than that for you to be free of me..." He whispers into my ear, his face moving towards my neck where his breath would lightly fan my skin. For a moment, I shut my eyes, trying my best not to let him get to me. I know he is simply toying with me, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing... he is starting to get to me.

Before I can even react, he spins me around, this time so I'm facing him again, and bends slightly, hauling me up in one smooth motion and throwing me over his shoulder.

The world tilts violently, and the blood immediately rushes to my head just as I yell out in surprise, trying my best to keep my head up.

"No!" I scream, pounding my fists uselessly against his back, my voice cracking, shredding itself apart. "Put me down! You bastard, put me down!" I continue, but he doesn't care.

His arm hooks around my thighs, locking me in place, his other hand still pinning my wrists together, preventing me from striking or clawing. I twist and scream, my rage spilling out of me in ugly, broken sounds. He began walking, carrying me down the steps, through the front doors gates and toward the waiting car.

I see the mansion upside down as we pass it, lights glowing warmly behind the windows, my home standing tall and indifferent as I am carried away from it like trash being taken to the curb.

This is it.

This is how I leave.

The car door opens, and the cool air hits my face. causing my throat to tighten as my chest seizes, and suddenly the fight drains out of me all at once, leaving only something far worse behind.

Grief.

It crashes into me without warning, violent and uncontrollable, and my body betrays me completely. Tears spill from my eyes, hot and furious, blurring everything as my hands curl into fists against his shoulder.

"I hate you," I choke, the words torn from somewhere deep and wounded. "I hate him. I hate all of you."

Dante pauses for half a second before lowering me into the back seat. He does not drop me or toss me aside. Instead, he sets me down carefully, still holding my wrists until I am seated, until I am contained, until escape is no longer an option.

Then he releases me and doesn't say a word to me. Instead, he lets out a sigh and steps back, the door shutting behind him.

I face forward, my hands shaking as sobs rip out of me, and I press my forehead to my knees, my entire body trembling with fury and loss and humiliation. I cry not because I am weak, but because everything I was has been ripped out of me in one night, because my father erased me with his voice. After all, my name has been stripped from my bones, because no matter how hard I fought, I was still taken.

That's when the car begins to move, and somewhere deep beneath the tears, beneath the pain, beneath the rage, a burning feeling forms... a taste for vengeance that needs to be satisfied...

All I know... they think this is the end of me... but they haven't heard the last of...

Every last one of the Costanzo family...