•Polina•
The pain in my wrists is all I can feel with the shackles pressed tightly against the tender skin. I've barely slept. The exhaustion enveloping my body is almost overwhelming and hunger tugs at every part of my insides. The first day of my punishment when Luca released the shackles I fought him. It wasn't my best or brightest moment, I'll admit, but all I could think was this man knew where my sisters were and I had to know. I needed their location, needed visible proof they were unharmed. It was ignorant of me, I quickly learned that. I'm not sure how long I've been here, the days blend together, each one never ending. I hadn't seen Riot since I spit in his face, it was always Luca now.
I'm starting to lose my mind. Maybe it's the hunger, the exhaustion, or the pain from the shackles, or maybe it's a mixture of all three. I've stopped eating. Luca tried his best to get me to eat. He'd sit me on the floor with me and tried his best to entice me with the meals he made, even trying to feed me himself. But I couldn't eat. All I could think about was my sisters. Sofka was probably terrified and Aleksandra, god, she was probably causing more trouble than I was. If they were even alive, how could I trust the words of that man?
Riot threatened me to be good or he would hurt them but I'm having a hard time believing that he hasn't already. I could picture it, him torturing them until they bled their secrets for him, not that they had any. The thought enraged me and I screamed and thrashed against the shackles, ignoring how the abused skin on my wrists throbbed in agony.
The light flicked on, burning my eyes as two sets of heavy steps came down the stairs. I kept my gaze on the floor, refusing to meet theirs as they approached. My body feels so beaten down, I don't have the energy to fight with them right now. I know what I've been doing isn't logical but I can't help it. If my sisters are dead I have nothing to live for anymore, I'd rather die.
A set of loafers and a set of boots stop in front of me. Fingers grip my chin and turn my head until I'm staring in the amber gaze of the grim reaper. His eyes dance across my face, his brow dipping. "Today you will eat or baby Ivanov will die a long and agonizing death. I've been patient, I haven't touched a hair on their little blonde heads but you've been a bad girl and I warned you what would happen if you disobeyed me."
My heart aches as I think of my baby sister. "I don't believe you. I don't believe that you haven't already killed them."
I couldn't, the thought didn't mesh with the image that had been painted of the evil man that stood in front of me. I'd never heard of him not harming whomever he held captive, never heard of them leaving him alive. I thought about it over and over those first few hours after he left me shackled to the wall until it drove me absolutely mad.
He gives an exasperated sigh and releases his hold on me before digging his phone out of his pocket. He taps on it a few times and a minute later he turns it around to show me a picture on the screen. Tears fill my eyes at the sight of my sisters. Sofka is trying her best to smile but Aleksandras not even attempting to, her scowl obvious. He taps the screen a few times and shows me the date and time the picture says it was taken and then shows me the date and time on his phone. A week, I've been shackled to the wall for a week.
He slips the device back in his pocket and gives me a devilish grin. "See, alive and well. Now, if I release you, are you going to be calm?"
I nod silently.
"Good." He mutters and quickly releases the shackles. I stumble forward on weak legs and he grips my forearms, steadying me. His touch sends a tremor of fear up my spine and he tightens his grip as if he senses it. He guides me over to the mattress and helps me lower myself until I'm sitting. His eyes go to my wrists, the skin there raw and red.
His gaze comes back to mine, his hand cupping my face so gently I have to fight the urge to close my eyes and lean into it. "You're smart not to trust so easily, topolina. You shouldn't trust me because I only have ill intentions, especially when it comes to you and when you fight it only makes it harder to resist them. I don't mind it, as long as it's me you're fighting." His fingers snake into my hair and his grip on the strands prickles across my scalp. "But when it's Luca you're putting your hands on well—" He lets out a dry laugh. "—let's just say that's a quick way to piss me off." Something sharp drags across my neck and my entire body tenses up. His face hardens but his eyes ignite as they drop to my neck. "Not enough to kill you, just enough to give in to the urge to hurt you."
A gasp falls from my lips as he adds pressure to the tip of the blade and a trail of fire blazes across my neck. My heart races in my chest, my body frozen as I feel a drop of blood trickle down my chest. He lightens the pressure and drags the blade up my chin and over my lips, his eyes following it the entire time. It's cool against my heated skin and sends goosebumps across my flesh.
"Should I continue or are you going to be good?" He questions.
"I'm sorry, I'll be good." I whisper, my chest aching with emotion.
He gives me a malicious grin. "Brava ragazza." His eyes dropped to my neck for a second. "Reds your color, topolina."
(Brava ragazza: good girl)
He releases his hold on me and rises to his full height, wiping the blade of his knife off on his suit jacket before closing it and slipping it back in his pocket. He grips Luca by the shoulder, giving it a squeeze as he speaks to him in Italian. Luca replies and Riot leaves the basement. Luca approaches me and I feel guilty for fighting him that first day, which is absolutely insane but I do. Even after that he's still been gentle with me, he's tried his best to get me to eat. He doesn't seem to play games like Riot or if he does he hides it extremely well.
"If I make you lunch will you eat it?" He asks me.
"Yes." I whisper.
He grabs the shackle above the mattress and extends it from the wall, his touch gentle as he grabs my arm. His eyes go to the mark on my wrist just as Riots had and his jaw clenches. He drops my arm and grabs my foot, attaching the shackle to my ankle instead. I breathe a sigh of relief. Having that thing back around my tender wrist wasn't something I had been looking forward to.
"I'll be right back." He mutters and leaves the room.
I grab the notepad and paper from the floor, my messy scrawl filling the first two pages. It's the only thing I've done while being locked in the weird headspace I've been in. I have nothing but time to think. It's hard constantly being stuck inside your head with the thoughts that run through mine. One part of me revels in knowing the Bratva is slowly being dismantled, piece by piece, but the part cowers at the thought of the destruction going on outside these walls. Children losing their fathers, mothers losing their sons. An absolute slaughter of all the people I know. It's enough guilt to drown in.
My eyes scan the page, reading through everything I've written down so far as I try my best to think about anything I've missed. I've obviously missed something because as far as I know they haven't found my father yet. I bring the pen to the paper and write down a few more things I remember, each pen mark carving itself in my brain for eternity. If I ever make it out of here my back will be covered in ink from all the lives lost in this battle.
Luca comes back with two trays in his hands. He places one in front of me and then takes a seat on the mattress beside me and places the second in front of himself. Does he not realize I could wrap this chain around his neck and kill him in only a few minutes? Why would he put himself in such a vulnerable position like that? Maybe because he knows I'm too weak to do him any harm right now? Or does he not care?
He glances over at me, a knowing look in his eyes. "Don't do anything that will get you or your sisters killed, Polina, it's not something I'd like to have on my conscience. We both know you're too weak to actually succeed right now."
He truly isn't like Riot if he has a conscience.
My eyes go to the tray in front of me and my stomach clenches painfully at the sight of the delicious looking sandwich on the plate.
"How does someone with a conscience end up stuck at Riot DeLucas beck and call or is it just a capo thing?" I ask as I pick my sandwich up.
I take a bite and hold in a groan. It's even better than it looks. I fight the urge to shovel it in, my empty stomach demanding more before I've even swallowed the first bite.
"Riot didn't choose to live this way. He worked with the hand he was dealt as best as he could, he adapted. You should have more sympathy for him, you have more things in common with him than you realize." Luca replies, his eyes on his own sandwich.
"And what might that be?"
Because as far as I can see, Riot and I couldn't be more opposite.
Luca shakes his head. "That's not my story to tell."
I take another bite of my sandwich, chewing slowly, savoring each flavor. Would Riot tell me? Would he sit beside me like Luca and tell me about his past? I almost laugh at the thought. No. He would never do that and I don't know that I would want him to anyway. I see him as my captor and his explanation could change that and that would be dangerous because at the end of the day he's still Riot DeLuca. He's still got me shackled to the wall in his basement and has my sisters held up in a safe house somewhere. He has so much control over me it makes me nauseous.
"So what's your story then?" I ask Luca, trying to quiet the racing thoughts in my brain. His eyes meet mine, drop to the wounds on my wrists, and then return to my eyes. I hold my wrist up, flashing the red flesh. "This bothers you, doesn't it?"
His focus goes back to his sandwich, his jaw clenching and unclenching. "I grew up watching my Dad put his hands on my mom, so yeah, it does bother me. Having you here, locked in this basement, bothers me."
I bite the tip of my tongue until I taste blood, forcing the urge to beg him to let me go down. If he hates seeing me like this then why won't he let me go?
But I knew why.
Riot.
He would only let me go if Riot allowed it and that's not something Riot will ever do. Begging Luca isn't something that will help me.
"Must not bother you too much." I mutter.
I feel his stare, hard and heavy against the side of my face. "He won't hurt you."
I scoff, my fingers going to my neck, feeling the blood dried across the mark he left behind. "You stood there while he did this."
"But did it hurt?"
I think about it for a second, contemplating his question. It surprised me, it burned, but... it wasn't really painful. I met his gaze, unable to say the words out loud because I honestly hadn't even realized it until now.
"He could've easily gone deeper, he could've made it hurt but he didn't." He adds. "Riots more than what he's made out to be."
"He doesn't exactly try to convince anyone otherwise." I retorted.
In fact he spends most of his time reminding me of his reputation. He wants me to fear him.
Luca arches an eyebrow at me. "Would you if you were in his shoes?"
Having the majority of the criminal world fear you must feel pretty powerful, especially to an underboss. It's expected of a Don and sure most underbosses aren't to be messed with but Riots on a whole different level of his own. It's an advantage most would want. I don't bother answering the question, instead I go back to our previous conversation about Luca's family.
"Did you ever get revenge on your father?"
"One night he almost killed my Mom, beat her until she was barely breathing." He purses his lips, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "I called Riot in a panic and showed up with his eldest brother, Rafael Junior, just a few minutes later. Rafael took Mom to the hospital and Riot killed my father, right there in our living room." My eyes widen and he pauses for a second as if the memories are overwhelming him. "Once Mom recovered Rafael flew us to the states and set us up in a house here in the community and I became a soldier. I haven't been back to Sicily since."
I reach over and give his arm a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry, Luca, I know that must have been hard."
I'm shackled to a wall by my ankle and I'm comforting one of my captors, I've truly lost it. I can't help it though. My father may be a horrible man but he was always good to my mother. I couldn't fathom watching him hurt her for as many years as Luca had to. It must have been an awful life to live.
He gives me a small smile in reply and we go back to eating.
"Has Riot always been like... this?" I question, unsure of how to word it exactly.
"No, he used to be like his youngest brother, Leo. He hated the constant death that surrounded us." He shrugs. "Things changed. The world has a way of chewing you up and spitting you out. You have to learn to adapt whether you want to or not."
It's hard to believe there was ever a time Riot didn't enjoy the things he does. By the way he talks, it's hard to picture it.
"What about your parents? What are they like?"
"My parents were happy when my Mom was alive, my Dad was a better man. Her death changed him, he hasn't been the same person." I sigh. "She died giving birth to my youngest sister Sofia. I pretty much raised Sofia myself. My father became too busy for us and focused on the Bratva and my brother Isay. After Isay died... I don't even recognize my Father anymore."
Luca's hazel eyes are warm and filled with sympathy. "I'm sorry. Death is a hard thing to deal with, especially as a kid."
"How was your Mom after everything?"
He shrugs. "She's different but also the same, it's hard to explain. She's been a lot happier since my father passed but she's timid and terrified of men."
"I can't say I blame her." I mutter.
I'm not terrified of men but the men in my life have always seemed to be against me. It's not something I've ever wanted to welcome into my life so I've steered away from them for the most part. If one of them treated me like she had been treated I'd never want to see another man in my life.
I sit what's left of my sandwich on the plate and turn toward Luca. "How are my sisters? Riot said you took them to a safe house."
"I did." He nods. "They're fine. No one will touch them." He smashed his lips together before he could continue.
"Unless Riot says so." I finished for him, anger pooling in my gut again.
He shakes his head. "He's not going to. He doesn't like to hurt women, it's not really something he's ever had to do before."
"Great, so we're his first." I huff.
But you know what they say about your first? It's unforgettable. Whether it's good or bad you'll never forget it.
"You won't be as long as you listen to him, that's all you have to do." He assures me as if it's the most simplest thing in the world.
We both know that Riot isn't going to keep me forever though. Eventually he'll have no use for me and it's what he does after that that has me searching for an escape plan because if he kills me, he'll kill my sisters and I refuse to let him end their lives.
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Hey babe's, happy Friday!
Well Riot drew some blood 😅
I'm so ready to get to the juicy meat of this story, it's killing me lol
Next upload is Tuesday!
Love youu🖤🖤
— Katy