The door groaned open — heavy, metal, dragging along the floor — and slammed shut with a metallic thud that rattled the walls.I flinched, curling in on myself as footsteps echoed closer.
“Nico!Miller!Have you got her?Where is she?”
I didn’t look.Couldn’t.My knees came up to my chest, arms locked around them.I was shaking so hard my teeth chattered.Every step he took toward me made my heart beat harder, faster, like it was trying to escape my body.
“Chi cazzo è lei?Non è una biondina!”
“Yeah...about that,” one of the men muttered.“We might’ve got the wrong person.”
“You know what your shit boss is like,” the newcomer snapped.“Go tell him that.”
So that’s what this was — a fucking mistake.
I stared at the floor, fury mixing with disbelief.They kidnapped me by accident.Who the hell does that?
“Get up,” the new man ordered, voice like gravel and smoke.
I looked up at him.Tall, broad, built like trouble.The kind of man who could kill without raising his voice.Everything about him screamed danger — from the sharp lines of his face to the way his eyes barely blinked.
“Sei un fottuto sordo?!I said get the fuck up!”
My legs didn’t want to listen.I barely managed to push myself onto my knees before the two brutes grabbed me.Their hands clamped down hard, thumbs digging into my arms until I whimpered.
It didn’t matter.They didn’t stop.
To them, I was just cargo.
“Look at me or I’ll shoot you.”
The growl in his voice was sharp enough to cut air.Rage rolled off him, thick and raw, and for the life of me I couldn’t understand why this man was so pissed.I didn’t ask to be kidnapped.
His words hit like a slap, and my head snapped up before I even realized it.My eyes met his — cold gray, steel with a pulse.
For a second, I forgot to breathe.Those eyes were dangerous, but damn if they weren’t beautiful.And behind all that fury was a face that didn’t make sense.Perfect features.Jaw like it was carved.He looked unreal — like some kind of life-size, male Barbie doll who’d crawled out of a nightmare instead of a toy box.
What the actual hell.
“What’s your name?”he asked, the gun now aimed directly at my face.
My gaze flicked to the barrel, pulse spiking.Every instinct screamed lie, and that’s what I did best.Survival rule number one in my life: never tell the truth when you’re not in control.
“I said what’s your fucking name?!”he barked.
“B-Bella,” I stammered.
He cocked a brow, eyes narrowing.“Bella?That your real name?”
I swallowed hard.I was a terrible liar, and I knew it.Before I could answer, the door creaked open behind him and another man stepped in — calmer, sharper, built like someone who’d seen it all and didn’t need to shout about it.
“Salvatore, stop teasing the poor girl and let’s go,” the newcomer said flatly.“You know boss doesn’t like waiting.”
“I’m not fucking teasing her!”
“Fine,” he sighed.“You’re flirting with her.Now move your ass.”
“Shut the fuck up, Bruno,” Salvatore snapped back, irritation flaring.
So, now I had names.Salvatore — Mr.Gray Eyes — and Bruno, the sarcastic one.Italians.No doubt about it.I understood enough of their words to be sure.
