Queen Of Mafia Brothers

Serena~

The cold light of the spotlight hit my skin, and I gasped.

Where am I?

My head spun as I blinked into the brightness, the world around me fading in and out like a nightmare. But this wasn't a nightmare-it was real. Too real. I was standing in the middle of a room filled with shadows, the murmur of voices echoing ominously around me. My heart pounded, each thump echoing through my chest, and panic gnawed at the edges of my mind.

"Eight hundred dollars," a voice boomed from the darkness, cold and detached.

What?

I swallowed, my throat dry. The weight of what was happening crashed down on me, the sharp realization piercing through the fog of confusion. They're bidding on me. Me. The room felt smaller and tighter, as the spotlight trapped me like an animal on display.

"Eight hundred dollars, one."

"Eight hundred dollars, two."

The numbers climbed, and with each new bid, fear clawed its way through my body. Where am I? Why is this happening? My thoughts spun wildly as I clutched the towel wrapped around my body, desperate to shield myself from the unseen eyes devouring me from the darkness.

I had come to a party, hadn't I? A party my father had organized. I could still feel the fabric of the too-tight red gown. My stepmother, Liliana, had forced me to wear earlier-her dress, her choice. I hadn't wanted to wear it, but Vittoria, my stepsister, had told me it was my father's request. I had no choice but to obey.

A party. For me.

But where was I now?

"Five thousand dollars," another voice broke through the fog of my mind, sending a shiver down my spine.

I turned, searching for a way out, my eyes darting around the room, but the shadows swallowed everything beyond the spotlight. My legs shook beneath me, and I stumbled slightly, feeling like the world was closing in. My throat burned with the remnants of the strange juice Vittoria had practically forced into my hand.

And then it hit me.

Vittoria. Liliana. They had planned this. The party, the dress, the drink... they had set me up. This wasn't about celebration. This was about betrayal.

"Ten million dollars."

The voice, cold and devoid of emotion, cut through the room like a blade. I froze, the sound paralyzing me. The crowd grew silent, anticipation thick in the air. Who would pay that much?

"Ten million, one."

"Ten million, two."

The finality of it washed over me like a wave of cold water.

"Sold."

The lights flickered on, and the room exploded into clarity. I stood, exposed, on a stage in front of a sea of faces. Men-powerful men-sat at round tables, their eyes gleaming with greed. My stomach lurched as their gaze traced the outline of my barely covered body. I had been reduced to an object, nothing more than a prize to be bought and sold.

"Mr. Dante Romano, you've won this woman," a voice announced with sickening formality.

My body tensed. Mr. Romano.

I didn't need to look to know who that was. I had seen him earlier-watching me. He had sat in the corner of the party, quiet, commanding, his ice-blue eyes never leaving me. Dante Romano. I had felt his gaze, sharp and dangerous, searing through me even before I understood the full horror of the night.

The crowd parted as he approached the stage, his footsteps slow and deliberate. My heart pounded in my ears as he came into view-tall, dressed in an expensive black suit, his expression unreadable, his presence suffocating.

He stopped in front of me, his icy blue eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, everything around me disappeared-the crowd, the voices, the lights. It was just him and me, and the unspoken tension that hung in the air between us.

"I never buy anything," he whispered, his voice like steel, "without making sure it's of the highest quality."

His words sent a shiver through me, but it wasn't just the coldness in his tone. It was the way he looked at me-like I was something to be conquered, something to be owned.

"I won't take her until I've confirmed she meets the standards," he continued, turning slightly toward the large screen behind me.

My blood ran cold as I followed his gaze. There, on the screen, was footage of me in the bathroom, naked and vulnerable, water cascading over my body as I showered. They filmed me. They planned this. My stomach twisted in horror, my shame exposed for everyone to see.

"Of course, Mr. Romano," another voice said, but I didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

My father.

I looked up, eyes wide, searching the crowd until I found him-standing on a balcony above the room, his expression blank, emotionless. His eyes met mine, but there was no recognition, no love, no regret.

"Dad," I whispered, my voice breaking.

But he didn't respond. He didn't care. He had sold me. Just like that.

"Undress her," my father commanded coldly.

My breath hitched in my throat, and I clutched the towel tighter to my chest, panic rising. "No!" I screamed, my voice trembling. But the guards didn't hesitate. They yanked the towel from my body, leaving me exposed and humiliated.

The room filled with gasps and murmurs as they took in my naked form, but I didn't hear them. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart, the crushing weight of my father's betrayal, and the coldness of Dante Romano's gaze as he watched me with a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Enough," he finally said, his voice calm, but filled with authority.

He reached out, grabbed me by the arm, and dragged me off the stage. My legs were weak, barely able to support me as he pulled me toward the exit.

"Please... don't," I whispered, but my words were swallowed by the crowd.

"Drive," Dante ordered his driver as he shoved me into his car. He climbed in beside me, his presence filling the small space with a suffocating intensity.

One last glance out the window, and I saw them-Vittoria and Liliana, smiling triumphantly. And my father-still unmoved, still cold, still uncaring.

Hatred burned through me, hotter than ever before. How could they do this to me? How could he?

Dante's chilly breath brushed against my skin as he leaned in close, his voice a low whisper. "Be ready for one more surprise, my slave. From now on, you will breathe with my permission."

Serena ~

"I am not your slave!" The rage boiling inside me forced the words out, my eyes locking with Dante's cold, piercing blue gaze. He cannot turn me into his slave. That auction was a deception. My father has no right to sell me.

His grip on my hair tightened, and he jerked my head back painfully until his face hovered just inches from mine. His hot and suffocating breath brushed against my cheek, making my skin crawl.

"What did you just say?" His voice was dangerously low, each word dripping with malice.

"I said-I am not your slave." The pain in my scalp was excruciating, but I refused to break in front of this monster. My body screamed for relief, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing my tears. I'll never let him see me cry.

His lips curled into a cold, cruel smile. "You are my slave. I paid for you, and I'll make sure you know exactly what that means." His icy gaze flicked to my lips, lingering momentarily before he released me with a rough shove.

I hit the floor, my body trembling, but I bit down hard on my lip. I will not break. I won't give him what he wants. No matter what my father has done, I will not let this man own me.

"Sit there," he ordered, his voice chilling. He pointed his feet at the floor. Without hesitation, he shoved me down, making sure my face was level with his shoes.

The rough carpet of the car scratched against my bare legs as I struggled to stay upright. Humiliation wasn't enough for him-he wanted me to feel like I was beneath him, literally. I bit my lip, my stomach twisting with both disgust and fury.

I won't give in to him.

The car came to a sudden stop, and I lurched forward, hitting the seat in front of me. I instinctively reached out, my hand grabbing his leg, my head falling against his knee. He chuckled, dark and mocking.

"Good. You're already learning your place," he sneered, his eyes flashing with satisfaction. One of his men opened the car door, and he stepped out, adjusting his suit like nothing had happened.

"Hm... wear this," he said, throwing his coat toward me.

I stared at him in confusion. Why now? Just moments ago, he paraded me around like I was nothing. Why give me any decency now?

"Button it up," he ordered coldly. His commanding tone sent chills down my spine.

My fingers fumbled as I quickly buttoned the coat from collar to hem. After buttoning the coat, he grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the car.

The mansion loomed ahead, tall and foreboding, its grandeur shrouded in shadow. Armed guards stood like statues, their eyes tracking my every movement as he dragged me toward the entrance. The cold air cut through me, but the fear gnawing at my insides made my skin burn.

"Come on. Let's show my father what I've brought him," his voice thundered as we entered the grand hall.

My breath caught in my throat.

The place reeked of wealth and power, from the crystal chandelier above to the dead animal heads mounted on the walls like trophies. I felt the weight of their stares-the guards, the servants, all watching me with cold indifference.

I stumbled as his grip tightened on my hair, but he didn't care. He yanked me forward, his expression full of sadistic glee as I winced in pain. Every time I tripped, he dragged me harder, relishing my suffering.

"Father, I have a surprise for you!" His voice echoed through the cavernous hall, filled with pride. I glanced around, desperation clawing at me.

Who is his father? What do they want from me?

A figure descended the grand staircase-a man whose very presence seemed to command the room. Age lined his face, but his sharp eyes were cold and calculating. He moved with the same quiet authority as the man holding me, but something about him made my heart stop.

For a moment, hope flickered inside me. Could this man release me?

He didn't look at me the way the others had. Maybe he wasn't like his son. Maybe I could appeal to him and make him see that I wasn't a part of their world.

"Dante, my lion," the older man greeted, his voice rich with affection. "What have you bought me?"

Dante? So that was his name.

I glanced at him, watching as he straightened, his cruel grin fading into something almost... respectful. He was bowing his head as if seeking his father's approval. I had never imagined a man like him could submit to anyone.

"I won her at an auction, Father."

The older man's eyes flicked to me, his gaze raking over my body with cold detachment.

"What's so special about her? You can send her to the brothel with the others."

Brothel? My stomach lurched at the word, and my mind spun with confusion and horror.

Dante's lips curled back into a smirk. "She's not like the others. She is Don Moretti's daughter."

I froze. Don Moretti. My father.

The older man's expression darkened with surprise and then amusement.

"Is that so?" His eyes lit up with something far more dangerous than I had expected.

Dante puffed out his chest, clearly pleased with himself. "Yes, Dad. I paid ten million dollars for her. I thought she'd make the perfect gift."

Laughter-sharp and menacing-filled the room. The older man's face twisted into a smile that made my skin crawl. "Good job, my lion. Now we'll use her to break that bastard Moretti. He'll regret ever crossing us."

My heart plummeted. They were going to use me to destroy my father. I should have felt relief that the man who betrayed me would suffer, but something was wrong. The more I watched, the more I wondered-what was this man's connection to my father? Why did they want revenge?

Dante's father motioned for him to approach, and I watched in disbelief as Dante kneeled before him, pressing a kiss to his hand. The powerful, sadistic man who had just tortured me stood like a servant in front of his father.

"Kneel," Dante's voice snapped, dragging me out of my thoughts. I met his gaze, fury rising inside me.

"No."

His eyes darkened, filled with cold rage.

"What did you say?"

Before I could react, he yanked my hair again, forcing me to my knees in front of his father. My scalp burned, but I gritted my teeth and stared straight ahead. I would not submit. Not to him, not to anyone.

"You're ours now, woman," Dante snarled. "You'll learn respect."

His father's hand gripped my chin; his eyes were cold and menacing.

"You'll learn that in time, all women bow to power. And power is all we have."

I swallowed hard, holding back the tears threatening to spill. "You can control my body, but you'll never break me." My voice trembled, but I meant every word. I would never let them win.

The old man's grip tightened on my chin, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Break her, Dante. She'll bow soon enough. Make her understand what it means to defy us."

Dante's breath brushed against my ear as he leaned in close. His voice was a cold whisper, full of malice.

"You won't survive long, Serena. You'll learn what it means to obey, or you'll be begging me for death."

Serena~

"Keep her out of my sight, Dante, until she learns manners and how to treat her masters respectfully!"

When I refused to yield, Dante's father erupted in anger. His words thundered through the room, and my heart sank further into despair. His voice carried a lethal authority that made my stomach twist, and I realized this command wasn't just punishment-it was a sentence.

"Dad, please don't let this slave ruin your day." Dante's voice, now dripping with sweetness, was a stark contrast to the cold cruelty he'd shown me. The sudden shift sent a wave of confusion through me. How could he change so easily? One moment, he was torturing me; the next, he wore charm like a mask, almost as if performing for his father's amusement.

"I'll teach her manners soon. She'll know how to treat you with dignity."

Dante's icy eyes flicked to me, and I shuddered as he leaned closer. His gaze was both a threat and a promise. His hand was like a vise around my arm as he pulled me harshly aside, his fingers digging into my skin.

"You understand now what happens when you insult me in front of my father." His words were a whisper, but they dripped with venom as he grabbed my arm and yanked me toward the far corner of the room.

I turned, hoping to find some mercy in his father's eyes, but there was nothing. His expression remained stone-cold, indifferent to the violence his son inflicted on me. This is now my life-caught in a family of monsters. Trapped like an animal. I was safe and isolated in my father's house just twelve hours ago. Though I received little love, I never knew such cruelty. Now, every moment was a waking nightmare.

"Lock her in the basement and let her starve until she learns respect," Dante commanded, his voice calm and collected, like he was making an ordinary request. There was a casual cruelty in his tone that made my blood run cold, as if my suffering was inconsequential, routine.

Starve me? My chest tightened with fear, but I swallowed it down. I wouldn't let them see my fear; I wouldn't let them break me, no matter what.

"Big brother, are you sure you want to keep her here?" A softer voice interrupted. I looked up to see a man standing nearby, his light green eyes filled with something that almost resembled... concern?

"Yes, Marco," Dante snapped, clearly annoyed.

"She stays here. And I trust none but you to watch her." His tone softened slightly as he glanced at Marco, his expression hardening again when he looked at me.

Marco. So, he's Dante's brother. Unlike Dante's sharp, cruel features, Marco had a face that carried empathy, though I wasn't sure how much of it was real. His green eyes lacked the brutal edge of Dante's blue ones, but I could still see his loyalty to his brother, a devotion that felt even more dangerous for how sincere it appeared.

"I'll take care of her," Marco finally said, though his voice lacked the malice I had grown used to. There was a hardness there, something practiced as if he were used to restraining his true emotions.

Could I trust him? Or was this just another act?

"Take her to the basement," Dante ordered, his expression cold. "Either she bows, or she dies. I don't care which."

As Dante's heavy footsteps retreated, Marco's grip on my arm remained firm but gentle. He guided me toward a dark stairwell, leading me down into a basement lit only by a faint nightlight.

The shadows clung to the walls, and a wave of dread fell over me. I had always been afraid of the dark, but I wouldn't show that weakness to him.

Marco tied me to a chair, his movements quick but not cruel. The ropes bit into my wrists, and my shoulders ached as he pulled them tight. I braced myself for more pain, but it didn't come.

"What's your name?" Marco asked, his voice gentle-so different from Dante's sharp commands. But something was calculating in his gaze, as if he was testing me, measuring my response.

I hesitated, unsure of his intentions. Was he trying to make me trust him? I refused to cry, even though my throat burned with the effort.

"Se..Sere...Serena Moretti."

"Do you want some water?" His voice was soft, as though he truly cared, but I couldn't trust him. Not after everything his brother had done. Kind words don't erase cruelty.

My throat was painfully dry, and I nodded. I hadn't had anything to drink since the poisonous juice Vittoria had forced down my throat earlier. The thought of my family's betrayal stirred another wave of anger in me.

Marco held a glass of water in front of me, the cool liquid inches from my lips. My body screamed for it, my thirst unbearable, but just as I leaned forward, he pulled it away.

"I'm sorry," Marco said, his voice filled with regret. "But I can't defy my brother. He told me not to let you eat or drink until you submit."

The small hope that had flared up inside me immediately died. Of course, I thought bitterly. I'm still just a pawn for them. I flicked my tongue over my dry lips, the ache in my throat growing.

"Why suffer like this, Serena?" Marco asked quietly. "You don't know my brother. He's ruthless. If he wants you to kneel, he will stop at nothing until you break."

Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. More people? What now?

Three tall men entered the room. Dante's dangerous charm was in them, but their personalities diverged. One of them smirked at me, his dark eyes filled with playful malice. His lean frame and devil-may-care attitude reminded me of a cat toying with its prey.

"So, this is the gift Dante bought for Dad?" Amusement laced his voice as he surveyed me, his gaze lingering too long.

"What's so special in her?" Something was degrading in his tone as if he found the idea of me being valuable laughable.

"Luca," Marco snapped, his tone protective. "She is Don Moretti's daughter. Show some respect."

The second man-glared at me with cold disgust, his muscular arms crossed over his chest.

"Dante wasted ten million dollars on this useless thing? On her?"

Useless? The word stung, but I bit my lip, refusing to let them see how much their words hurt. Every degrading comment was like a slap, but I wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

The third man had remained silent until now. His wild, unpredictable eyes danced with mischief as he tilted his head, watching me like a predator.

"Do you have a fear of spiders, young lady? Or maybe... ghosts?"

His voice sent chills down my spine. There was something wrong with him, something even more dangerous than his brothers. He was... unhinged.

"Vito, shut up." His brothers shot him a warning look, but he just laughed and disappeared into the shadows.

"Don't worry," Marco said softly, his hand gently brushing over my hair. "There are no ghosts here. Just us." But his words held no comfort; they were a reminder that I was entirely at their mercy.

Before I could respond, Dante's voice thundered from the hallway, making my stomach twist in fear.

"Marco! Bring her to the hall. Father has an announcement to make."

An announcement? I stiffened, dread clawing at my insides.

What now?

Marco untied me, pulling me to my feet. His grip was no longer gentle, a reminder that any kindness was temporary, conditional. He led me back up the stairs, my legs shaking beneath me.

What does Dante's father have planned for me now? My heart raced, and I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever was coming next would be worse than anything I'd endured so far.