29. Lana

29

LANA

P anic floods through me as a blindfold is roughly tied over my eyes, plunging me into darkness. Then the engine of the car roars to life. I try to steady my breathing as we drive, trying to memorize every turn and sound. But it's useless. We drive for what feels like hours, the silence broken only by my captors' occasional murmurs.

Finally, the vehicle slows to a stop. Rough hands yank me out, and I stumble, disoriented. The ground beneath my feet changes from pavement to what feels like dirt or gravel.

"Welcome to your new home, Miss D'Amato," one of them sneers. "Hope you enjoy your stay."

The blindfold is ripped from my eyes, and I blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the dim light. As my vision clears, I take in my surroundings. I'm in what appears to be a basement—cold, damp, and musty. Bare concrete walls surround me, with a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling casting eerie shadows.

I try to move. I'm pushed against the wall and my cuffed arms forced over my head, where Dickhead Rogers latches the cuffs to something that holds me in place, leaving me in an awkward, painful position.

"Comfortable?" Dickhead asks.

I glare at him, refusing to show fear. "You won't get away with this. My family will find me."

He laughs, a cold, humorless sound that sends chills down my spine. "Oh, we're counting on it. But by then, it'll be too late for you."

His words make me think that maybe he doesn't have Elio and Matteo, after all. Otherwise, he'd gloat, right?

As he turns to leave, panic starts to set in. I struggle against the chains, but it's useless. They're too strong, and I'm completely immobilized.

The door slams shut, leaving me in near darkness. The only sound is the clanking of my chains as I shift, trying to find a less painful position. But it's impossible. My shoulders already ache from the strain.

I close my eyes, fighting back tears of frustration and fear. I need to stay strong, to think. There has to be a way out of this.

The door opens again, and this time, several men walk in. My heart sinks as I recognize Detective Hartley, Henry's partner. His eyes are cold, filled with hatred. Next to him stands Dickhead and the other cop from the search in my office.

When Henry told me cops might be involved in Lazaro's disappearance, did he know about Detective Hartley? A kernel of doubt takes root about Henry. Surely, he'd have warned me if he knew specific cops were involved.

Dickhead Rogers steps closer, a leering grin on his face. "Well, well, Miss D'Amato. I've been looking forward to this moment."

I try to keep my face impassive, but inside, my stomach churns with disgust and fear. His eyes roam over my body, making me acutely aware of my vulnerability.

"Think of all the fun we're gonna have. It will be nice, I promise. I'll make you feel good before your life ends."

I swallow hard, fighting the urge to recoil as he reaches out to touch my face. Hartley's voice cuts through the tension. "That's enough. We're not here for your sick fantasies."

The cop backs off, but his words have done their job. My fear has skyrocketed, and I have no doubt it's going to get worse before it's over.

Lifting my chin, I meet Hartley's gaze with a defiant glare. "You're pathetic. Hiding behind badges and chains. Is this the only way you can feel powerful?"

Hartley's eyes narrow, but I don't flinch. If I'm going to die, I'm going out kicking and screaming.

"You think you're tough?" he sneers. "We'll see how long that lasts."

I'm terrified. But I won't let them see it. I force a cold smile onto my face. "You forget how I've been raised. I've seen men make weasels like you cry."

I hang there, muscles screaming in agony, as Hartley approaches me again. He pulls out a knife, the blade glinting in the dim light. My breath catches in my throat as he brings it close to my face, the cold metal barely grazing my skin.

"You know, Lana," he says, his voice eerily calm, "I've been waiting a long time for this moment."

I try to lean away from the blade, but there's nowhere to go. My chains rattle uselessly as I struggle.

"Soon, you'll disappear," Hartley continues, tracing the knife along my jawline. "Just like your brother Lazaro did."

My heart stops. "What did you do to my brother?" I demand, my voice hoarse but steady.

Hartley's lips curl into a cruel smile. "Let's just say I made sure he couldn't cause any more trouble. And now, it's your turn."

I suppose I can die happy, finally knowing what happened to Lazaro. "What did you do to him?"

He laughs. "Wouldn't you like to know? Don't worry, you'll find out soon enough. You'll be joining him shortly."

The knife moves to my throat, the sharp edge pressing against my skin. I freeze, hardly daring to breathe.

I stare into Hartley's eyes, searching for any hint of humanity, but all I see is cold hatred.

Despite the knife at my throat, I find my voice. "Why are you doing this? What did we ever do to you?"

His grip on the knife tightens, his knuckles turning white as he leans toward me, his dark eyes filled with a hate I've never seen before. "Your family destroyed so many lives, and you don't even care."

I swallow hard. "What are you talking about?"

"My father," he spits out, his voice shaking with rage. "He was a good man, a decorated officer. And your psychopath brother murdered him in cold blood."

I remember Henry asking me about Lazaro and a cop. My heart starts to sink that Henry knew all of this and didn't tell me. His excuse was to protect his case, but it was really to protect his partner.

"You think Lazaro killed your father?"

Hartley's eyes flash dangerously. "I don't think, I know. And now, I'm going to make your entire family pay for what they've done."

I shake my head, wincing as the movement causes the knife to nick my skin. "Why not put him in jail?"

"Only death can rid the planet of vermin like you."

"I don't think he killed your father?—"

"Shut up!" Peter roars, pulling the knife away, only to slam his fist into the wall beside my head. I flinch but hold his gaze.

"Your family is a plague on this city," he snarls, returning the blade to my neck. "You think you're untouchable, that you can do whatever you want without consequences. Well, not anymore. I'm going to destroy every last one of you."

The venom in his voice chills me to the bone. This isn't just about justice or revenge anymore. This is a vendetta, fueled by years of hatred and grief.

"You're insane," I whisper, more to myself than to him.

His lips curl into a twisted smile. "Maybe. But I'm the one holding the knife."

I stare at him, my mind reeling from his revelation. The pieces start to fall into place. Lazaro's disappearance. The calls to raid our properties. The relentless pursuit of my family. It's all connected to his father's death.

"You're a cop. You're supposed to protect people, not kidnap and torture them. What would your father, a decorated cop, think of this?" It's a risky move, but I need to keep him talking. Every minute I stay alive is another minute for someone to find me.

He launches into another tirade about my family's sins and how we're not fit to breathe the same air as him. His knife presses tighter on my neck until I'm sure he's pierced the skin. I wince at the pinch of pain.

My thoughts drift to Henry. Part of me hopes he'll burst through that door, gun drawn, ready to save me. But another part dreads the possibility that he might join in my torment.

I close my eyes, recalling the memory of my last night with Henry, the tenderness in his eyes, the warmth of his embrace. It couldn't all have been a lie… could it?

Opening my eyes, I meet Hartley's gaze with renewed defiance. Whatever happens, I won't go down without a fight. I'm Lana D'Amato, and I'll face this nightmare with all the strength I have left.