Trapped By The Other Twin

Content Warning: This book is intended for adult readers (18+) and contains themes such as dubious consent (Dubcon), consensual non-consent (CNC), as well as references to violence, rape, slavery, abuse, and other sensitive topics. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Please note that this is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, or events is purely coincidental. Thank you.

Third-person POV

Twenty years ago.

In a private underground mine, hidden from the eyes of the government and ordinary folks, and owned by the wealthiest and fastest-growing Italian drug lord, Orlando Alessandro, lived multiple malnourished orphaned children-children who had been adopted only to be forced into slavery.

Among them was a boy named Damiano, nicknamed "Monster."

Damiano was a twelve-year-old boy who often refused to follow orders, and as a result, he was frequently beaten, chained, and thrown into a cell. The cell was cold, dark, and crawling with insects. A place no child wanted to be.

Every child except Damiano.

He had grown used to it.

The darkness.

The silence.

The pain.

Being locked away no longer frightened him. And today was no exception.

After being caught trying to escape the underground mine, Damiano had been beaten half to death and left in the cell to die.

Dakota-eight years old and the daughter of Orlando Alessandro, visited the mine with her father. As usual, her small legs carried her toward the cell where Damiano was locked up.

With her feeble hands, she reached for the keys where they were usually kept, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

The moment she entered, the insects and rats crawling over Damiano's nearly lifeless body scattered into hiding, leaving her alone with him.

She swallowed, her throat tight, and watched him from a distance-waiting, hoping he would sense her presence and wake up.

He didn't.

Gathering what little courage she had, she took a step. Then another. Until she stood right in front of him.

Still, he didn't move.

She hesitated, then poked his cheek. Once. Twice. Again.

His eyes slowly opened.

The moment his gaze landed on her, she flinched and fell back onto the floor, fear shooting through her at the look in his eyes.

It took her a moment, but she steadied herself and crawled back toward him.

Quietly, she opened her backpack and brought out a piece of cake, part of her lunch, and a bottle of water. She held them out to him.

Damiano turned his head away.

His breathing was shallow. His body was covered in wounds; old ones, fresh ones. One eye was swollen shut; the other looked tired... too tired for someone his age.

"Hm," she murmured softly, nudging the food closer.

He refused to look at her.

Time was ticking. Her father would start looking for her soon.

Dakota needed a solution.

She thought quickly, then made a decision.

She had tried this before. It hadn't ended well. But she was desperate.

Opening the cake, she moved closer-close enough to reach him, and pushed a piece into his mouth.

Before he could spit it out, she clamped her hand over his mouth, forcing him to keep it in.

Damiano reacted instantly.

He jerked up, growling furiously, rage flashing through his eye as he struggled against her.

Dakota held still.

She didn't back away this time.

His hands and legs were chained. That gave her enough confidence to continue.

Slowly, stubbornly, she got him to eat.

When she offered him water, he surprisingly didn't refuse.

After he finished, his strength slightly restored, his deep blue eye settled on her. He watched silently as she placed the bottle back into her bag and zipped it up.

When she looked back at him, their eyes met.

For a few long moments, they simply stared at each other; quiet, unmoving, wordless.

Dakota knew better than to speak.

He never responded.

He never had.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she rose to her feet, ready to leave. She had barely reached the door when she noticed her father's guards rushing toward her.

Her eyes widened.

Fear gripped her.

No, not for herself, but for him.

For the blue-eyed boy behind her.

The boy she had come to care for.

The guards burst into the cell, ignoring her cries and weak attempts to stop them. They rushed Damiano and began beating him again, reopening wounds that had barely begun to heal, crushing him beneath the weight of their boots.

Blood spilled from his mouth.

He thrashed, trying to fight back, but his strength gave out quickly. Within moments, his body went still.

Unconscious.

Motionless.

The guards stopped.

Then they grabbed Dakota and dragged her out of the cell, ignoring her struggles as they escorted her upstairs, where her father was waiting.

The moment she saw him, she quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks and replaced them with a bright smile. She ran to him and held his hand.

When they got home, she went straight to her room.

The moment the door closed behind her, she collapsed onto her bed and broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. She blamed herself for his pain, for what had happened, for everything.

She cried for a long time.

When she finally stopped, something had changed in her.

Before leaving her room, she came up with a plan. A plan to save Damiano. A plan to take him out of that hell. And for it to work, she needed help. And she knew exactly who to ask.

Her uncle, the man who hated her father but loved her endlessly.

That evening, when she saw him seated at the dining table beside her father, her face lit up, her cheeks flushing with excitement.

After dinner, she approached him quietly.

"Uncle, I need your help," she whispered.

***

Dakota stood at the front door, hands clasped tightly together, her cheeks flushed red. Her uncle was on his way back, and he was supposed to return with good news.

It had taken a lot to convince him, but he had agreed.

He promised he would sneak Damiano out through a secret route in the underground mine and told Dakota to wait for him.

The sound of a car pulled her from her thoughts.

Her eyes lit up as his black Jeep drove into the compound.

Excitement coursed through her veins as she ran toward it, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

The door opened and he stepped out. But the look on his face made her heart skip a beat.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

"I'm sorry, Dakota," he said quietly. "I was too late... he's dead."

Her hands dropped to her sides.

The world seemed to tilt.

A breath caught in her throat as she gasped, "What...?"

Present Time

Dakota's POV

"I don't want a single mistake. Move the tables to the sides, yeah, over there. Do not make a mistake."

"Do I have to tell them every fucking thing? Fuck."

The sound of laughter behind me draws my attention to my best friend and assistant, Harley. She's twenty-eight, half American, half Italian-like me. She walks up to me and places a hand on my shoulder.

"Sweetheart, you need to calm down. You don't have to do this. I'm sure they know what to do."

"No, they don't," I fume. "They keep placing the tables in the wrong direction. This is a modern mask-themed party, for crying out loud. I know we don't do this every year, but we do it once every three years. You'd think they'd have gotten the hang of it by now, but no, they need to be controlled and told what to do. I am tired," I add bitterly.

She laughs again. "Come on, let's go to the bar room. You need a good drink. I'll prepare one for you."

She takes me by the arm and leads me away from the ballroom to the bar. Slipping behind the counter, she starts mixing drinks like she always does. Honestly, I'm starting to think she enjoys it. Maybe she should consider a career here. She's ridiculously good at this.

After mixing, she hands me the drink. I take it and gulp it down in one go. I frown at the initial bitterness, but it quickly melts into something sweet.

"Wow... when did you learn how to do this?" I gasp, really impressed.

She giggles, tucks her hair behind her ear, and bats her lashes playfully, clearly proud of herself.

"I hope you're coming to the masked party tonight?" I ask.

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it for anything, especially since your brother will be there," she says, blushing.

I roll my eyes. "My brother is engaged."

"Yeah, sure. But you and I both know he doesn't love her. It's an arranged marriage. I can still win his heart," she says with a hopeful wink.

I shake my head, unimpressed. Harley has always been obsessive. Once she likes something or someone she doesn't let go. But I really hope she lets him go. As much as it pains me, Gino is taken.

He's engaged to be married.

***

The last item I put on is my mask. It's shaped like a butterfly, one side glittering, the other completely black. It's one of the most beautiful pieces I'm wearing tonight, and I intend to keep it on throughout the party.

It is a masked party, after all.

Stepping into the ballroom, my eyes scan the crowd. There are more guests than last time. The room is packed. That's good for my family. Especially my father.

I like to think of him as the head of the town. He doesn't hold any official political or social position, but he's respected and powerful in ways people don't openly discuss. Politicians come to him in secret for help; financial backing, influence, favors. He funds campaigns and private ventures.

Even with the masks, I recognize a few of them tonight.

They're gathered in a corner, speaking quietly with my father; business, politics, the usual. They never miss these events we host every three years. Why? I still don't know. But I suspect it has something to do with whatever power my father holds behind the scenes.

My brother stands with his fiancée and her family at a corner. I recognize them easily because I was with them earlier.

And Harley?

She's nowhere to be found.

Knowing her, she's probably already followed some man she met tonight back to a private corner... or worse.

I scoff inwardly.

And my boyfriend?

I don't want to think of him.

I don't want him here.

I really don't-

Oops.

He's here.

And he's seen me.

He's walking toward me.

What do I do? Pretend I didn't see him? Run?

I can't let him get to me. All he ever wants is sex. Sex. Sex.

I'm tired of him.

I'm tired of being used as a sex doll.

I still can't believe he's the man my father chose for me to marry.

I have to get away.

Breaking eye contact, I turn and head toward the exit, ignoring his calls as I move quickly through the crowd. But just as I near the door, I collide with someone tall, and spill his champagne.

"Sorry," I whisper, my voice small as I struggle to keep my posture.

He's wearing a full black mask that covers his entire face, except for his deep blue eyes.

But he doesn't respond.

Instead, he sets his glass down on a nearby tray and disappears into the crowd.

Weird.

I purse my lips, unsettled, and am about to leave when I notice a neatly folded handkerchief on the floor.

I pick it up quickly, scanning the room for him. But he's gone.

The handkerchief looks expensive. Similar to the kind my brother uses.

I'll keep it. He might come back for it. Who knows?

I fold it carefully and slip it into the small pocket in my dress.

It smells... good.

Really good.

Sandalwood. Vanilla. Clean. Fresh.

I only brushed past him for a second, but I noticed these scents from him.

I'll keep it. If he comes back, I'll return it.

A sudden touch on my shoulder makes me flinch.

I turn-

Luco.

My boyfriend.

He is standing there with that same irritating smirk.

"Were you running from me?" He asks.

"Running? No... why would I?" I reply, forcing innocence into my voice.

"Hmm. Looked like it," he says. "Anyway, I've got a burning need you need to take care of. Let's go upstairs."

Before I can protest, he grabs my hand and pulls me out of the ballroom.

I know exactly what that "burning need" is.

His erection.

Gosh, I hate him.

He always blames me for it, he says my body drives him crazy. My curves. My chest.

As if that excuses everything.

He doesn't let go of me until we reach one of the guest rooms on the second floor. He shuts the door behind us, already unbuckling his trousers.

Typical of Luco.

He's already hard.

I don't think I've ever seen him otherwise.

Without asking, he pushes me down onto my knees and forces his pink stick into my mouth.

"Shit... suck it," he groans.

I take a breath and do what he wants. I swallow him, sucking and making him harder than he already is.

It doesn't take long before he pulls away and orders me onto the bed.

I obey, standing and turning my back to him.

I don't dare refuse. Not with the kind of report he could give my father.

He comes behind me, lifting my dress and settling himself between my legs.

I still and brace myself for the next step but instead I hear a loud sound.

The door bursts open and...

A body slams into me. I turn and see Luco. And there's a bullet in his forehead. Blood is oozing out of the hole.

My breath catches.

And then I see the man behind him.

He's the masked man from earlier.

Same height.

Same presence.

Same scent.

But with a different eye color.

He's holding a gun.

Pointed directly at me.

A whimper escapes my lips.

Am I next?

I open my mouth to beg for my life, but before I can do that, a sound echoes in the room.

Bang.

I open my eyes when I don't feel a thing.

Huh... How come? A shot was fired. I heard it. Was it not from him? If yes, where did it come from?

Before I can react, the man signals for me to stand up.

I do, raising my hands above my head. I turn to the other side of the room. I feel him come behind me, and when a cold metal touches my skin, I immediately know what he is trying to do.

But I don't let him. I forcefully slam my body against his extremely hard chest, then turn and reach for his gun. When I don't get it, I reach for his mask instead. Then I pull it off.

A small scream escapes me when I see his face. He is... scary-looking.

He has scars all over his face and neck-knife marks, burns, so many of them. The cuts are ugly. They make him look really dangerous.

Dangerous... and hot, I might add.

I felt his abs when I slammed into him. I'm pretty sure he lives in the gym with how built and strong he is.

Was he in a fight? Is he a fighter? How did he get so many scars? I wonder, still staring at him in bewilderment.

I notice the moment he clenches his jaw, clearly irritated by my actions.

Before I can make another move, I feel a sharp hit on my neck.

Darkness replaces everything as I black out.

***

A groan leaves my lips as I regain consciousness. I open my eyes, but I don't recognize where I am.

It's cold. Very cold.

And I'm lying on a wet floor.

When I try to move, I can't. My hands are chained behind me, and my legs are restrained.

"Where am I?" A whimper leaves my lips as I struggle to understand what is going on.

"Hey, Dakota, you're awake. Finally," a soft, familiar voice says. I follow the sound. I look up and see my elder brother sitting a distance away from me, a small smile on his face.

"I'm glad you're alive. I've been calling you since they brought you in," he says.

"Gino..." I shiver, surprised.

"Hey, can you sit up?" He asks softly.

"I... I'll try," I swallow, pushing myself into a sitting position. I lean back against the wall and look at him again.

"Gino..." I call, panic rising inside me. "What is this? What is going on?"

"Hey, don't be scared, okay?" He says calmly. "They haven't killed us for a reason. I'm sure they want something. We'll be fine as long as we cooperate."

"What happened?" I ask. I don't remember anything clearly.

My question makes his expression change. He takes a deep breath and lowers his gaze.

"Father is dead," he says. "They beheaded him before setting the house on fire."

I frown. "I... I don't understand," I stutter, confused.

Who are these people? Why would they do that? "Who are the people holding us?" I ask.

"I don't know," he shakes his head. "But one thing I know is that they hate Father. And they want something from us."

"What about the others? You said they set the house on fire... did they kill everyone?"

He nods. "Yeah... they did. I was conscious. I watched the house. It was terrifying... their screams..." He pauses, taking a shaky breath. "I still hear them."

***

My brother has explained everything, and I understand it now. We've been taken hostage.

These people hate our father-or should I say, our late father. They killed him and everyone else, but they kept us alive because they want something from us.

I don't know what it is, but I hope they make their demands soon and let us go. Whatever it is, I'm willing to give it.

I also remember the man who killed my boyfriend. I remember how he shot him. The look on his face before he knocked me out. I remember everything now.

My brother is asleep. He snores softly. According to him, he stayed awake waiting for me and hasn't slept at all.

I wish I were closer to him. I'm scared. Terrified of what these people might do to us.

The loud sound of the door opening causes Gino to stir awake. Two men walk in, holding weapons.

A gasp leaves my lips, and my heart starts beating faster as they walk closer. But they don't come to me. They go to my brother.

When they start unlocking his chains, fear overwhelms me.

"Where... where are you taking him?" I ask.

No response.

"Are you going to hurt him?" I ask again.

Still no response.

They remove his chains and start leading him out.

"Gino! Gino!!" I scream, my heart pounding wildly.

I see the fear in his eyes before they take him away. The door closes.

And then...

His screams.

They're loud. Painful. Terrifying.

Tears instantly fill my eyes and roll down my cheeks.

No. Not Gino. Not my brother.

He doesn't deserve this. He has never hurt anyone.

They killed our father, the one who wronged them. Why are they hurting him? Why?!

"Open the door!"

"Open the fucking door!" I scream, kicking and struggling.

"Open it, you bastard! Open the door or I swear I'll kill you! Leave my brother alone!"

I thrash against the chains, trying to break free. But it's useless. I can't escape. I can't stop them.

His screams go on for minutes.

Then they stop. Silence...

After some time, the door opens again. A man walks in, dragging Gino's bloody body behind him.

My breath catches in my throat when I see this. He chains him back to where he was before.

The man turns to leave, but I'm too angry to allow it.

"Hey!" I call out.

He stops.

To my surprise, he turns and walks toward me. The moment he gets close enough, I spit in his face.

"Bastard," I snap, anger burning inside me.

A dangerous smirk forms on his lips. I spit at him again.

"Useless cunt. You people are nothing but vagabonds."

He doesn't respond. Instead, he grabs my jaw, holding my face in place as he studies me. Then he lets go and stands up.

He's about to leave when I speak again.

"I want to see him," I say. "Your gang leader or whoever he thinks he is. I want to see his ugly face." I hiss.

He stops.

Then he turns, anger flashing in his eyes as he glares at me. "How dare you speak about him like that?" He growls.

Before I can process his words, I feel his palm land hard on my cheek.

Smacks!

My head snaps to the side.