CHAPTER THREE

S ofia stood staring out the window in her new abode.

It was still dark, but the sun would rise soon, and the shutters would close once more. Another day and night trapped, whether it was in this room or a cell with all those males.

Sofia was grateful to be in this private room and away from them. For six weeks she’d endured life in the cramped cell with over a dozen male vampires. Hardly ideal in a normal situation, but after what she’d been through, it had been hell.

Sofia had watched them run their eyes over her body and heard them relieve themselves with absolutely no shame. She’d lain with her arm over her eyes and tried to block out the sounds, but it had been impossible. When she had, visions of Stefano pounding into her would return. Every damn time.

Some males in the prison had been her team members. They had hated her strict leadership style, and it hadn’t been long before boredom kicked in and they made their feelings known. Fortunately, there were a handful of honorable males among them who had ensured they didn’t touch her.

Sofia had just wanted to be left alone. Needed to be left alone.

She hadn’t had a moment to process the attack by Stefano, fearing he would be back before she was captured by the Moretti army. She strongly suspected the unstable leader of the rebellion would have come for her again if she had still been walking around a free female. She still believed he was coming for her.

Shaking her head, she held back a scream.

She felt so vulnerable locked up here, despite what the Senior Lieutenant Commander Lance De Luca promised her. Sofia knew he was drawn to protect her, but she didn’t know why. Of course, she had a few theories. She wasn’t blind. Either he had a hero complex or he wanted to fuck her.

Even after she had told him what had happened to her, he continued his overprotective behavior. It was confusing. Did he really think she would magically wake up one day and be okay with what had happened and fall into his arms?

Not to mention she was probably going to lose her head.

Sofia tightened her arms around her body. There was no future for her now. She was a traitor to her race, only recently beginning to see what she was involved with.

Moisture pooled in her eyes. She tipped her head back and let out a long breath, blinking. This was no place to grieve; she had to be strong.

It was so hard to reconcile what Stefano had done to her. Vampires held females in high regard, more so than humans. Females were valued and cherished, especially by their mates. Sexual abuse or any violence toward females was rare. It happened, but it was rare.

And her family had known Stefano for many years. He knew her father.

How could he have done this?

She had begun to suspect he was not of sound mind when she was promoted to her new role, but any time she had tried to raise her concerns with her father, he’d shut her down, reminding her how fortunate she was to have a position of such importance. Leonardo Ferrero had told her to get back to work, keep her nose clean, and do what was told.

Had she always lived to please her father? Upon reflection, she realized she had, but then again, how could she blame herself when she had been so sheltered from the rest of the world and raised with such limiting beliefs?

She remembered the night her father had tucked her into his side at the door when the messengers had come to the house. Roberto Russo was dead. He had been murdered by the king. His crime? Being one of the rebellion leaders.

It had never occurred to her to think for herself or question anything. Didn’t your parents know everything? Didn’t they tell you the truth? Weren’t they always right? And the worst question of all—as a grown female, wouldn’t she have seen the truth?

Apparently not.

Sofia was now one hundred and fifty years old. She’d never been encouraged to think independently, and in fact, anything of the sort was strongly discouraged. Surrounded by members of the rebellion since she was a little vampire girl, Sofia had believed these vampires were independent thinkers. They were rebelling against the monarchy, so surely...

No.

Rebels were not always the good guys. Or the bad guys.

In fact, she had begun to realize there was no such thing. Both existed in each camp. Many of the rebels she’d known simply wanted a more democratic life. Being ruled by a monarchy in 2021 seemed so archaic...

After being abused by Russo, Sofia had gone onto MorettiNet.com and done some of her own research. Finally.

What she had found was a lot of information she knew, and some she didn’t. Of course, everyone tooted their own horn, and the royal site did just that. But they also shared their values, their vision for the race, and many of the things they were doing to protect them, help individual vampires flourish, and how they could support them. They offered things like financial investment training, discounts, and money lending for shutters for their homes, and how to homeschool kids and get recognized credentials so they could thrive in a human world, to name but a few.

Well, Sofia had sat back in her chair and cursed.

They didn’t sound like a bunch of money-grubbing royal monsters to her.

Then she had flicked to the history section and found the answer to the question she had never asked. Roberto Russo, Stefano’s father, had challenged King Frances—the current king’s father—to the throne. And lost. Stefano, Lucas, and Marco had all been present.

In those days there had been no internet nor the luxury of putting their information in slow-to-create newspapers or libraries. They had relied on old-fashioned sharing of information. Gossip. Truth.

The latter of which had been sorely missing.

An entire generation of vampires, including her, had been brought up to believe the king had outright murdered one of their leaders. Once those kinds of things were embedded in your belief system, it was difficult to change it, no matter how stark the proof was.

But now Sofia saw it. A male who could do what Stefano had done to her was not an honest man.

Ashamed, she had hung her head and asked herself over and over, why had she never gone looking. It wasn’t like her entire life she had never had access to this stuff.

Tunnel damn vision.

When you didn’t want to know, you didn’t go looking. Certainly not if it went against your papa’s wishes.

But what kind of life was that? One filled with complete ignorance and compliance. One that had gotten her raped, that’s what kind of damn life. Not that she could blame him for it. That sat squarely on her offender’s shoulders.

Sofia shook her head.

Even when her brother, Ben, had left, she’d never asked many questions. Sure, she had asked where he’d gone, but her parents had brushed her off. Sofia hated how compliant she had been, simply accepting she should stay quiet. She was an intelligent woman, but she had never felt like she had a right to insist on answers.

Now it was as if she’d had a spiritual awakening.

“You could have sent me a ghost or an archangel or some damn thing,” she muttered to the universe. “But oh no, instead I have to be raped by a monster to snap out of my walking sleep. Why?”

Why, why, why?

Sofia had been asking why for weeks now, as if finding the answer would somehow help her find a way out of that moment of horror and helplessness. But there was no answer.

She may be trapped inside this room, imprisoned, but she was not trapped inside her mind. Nobody could tell her what to think or feel. Nobody had control of her mind. She could choose to think differently and wake up to what was really going on. She would ask questions, and in doing so, discover the truth.

End of story.

She refused to fall down the rabbit hole even further than she had.

Sofia knew she couldn’t snap her fingers and be back to how she was before the rape. No, but she wouldn’t let it rule her either—even if her life was going to be short now. To let it rule her mind would be giving away her power.

When she was triggered, she had to become highly alert to the facts around her. Was she in actual danger? No? Then relax. Yes? Then fight for your life. She had to mindfully and constantly stop the fear loop that played in her head.

Sofia recalled the moment she’d met Lance. He was an incredibly large male. Larger than Stefano. He had given off such incredibly powerful vibes, and she had instinctually retreated from him.

He’d told her she could trust him. She’d stumbled and fallen, and he’d caught her in his big, powerful arms. Instead of screaming in terror, her body had roared to life, surprising her, but then her mind had taken charge, and she’d cowered from him.

She’d seen the fury in his face and realized Lance knew something had happened to her, as if he had recognized it. But he’d never asked, had never pushed, and she’d appreciated it. She hadn’t been ready to talk to anyone about it. Not then.

Over a period of six weeks, Lance had visited her regularly, being honest and up-front about wanting information about the rebellion, Stefano Russo, and her involvement with him and the operation. He’d constantly reminded her she was safe and protected within their walls.

The problem was, she didn’t agree.

Sofia knew she’d offended the male with the shaking of her head and disagreeing frowns every time he said it, but when it came to her survival, she was more interested in looking after herself than his ego.

Stefano Russo was a powerful and evil vampire; he’d kidnapped the Moretti queen, for goodness’ sake. If he wanted to get to Sofia, he would. She didn’t know what he wanted from her, but her instincts screamed the dangerous vampire was coming for her.

A shiver ran through her as she watched the sun begin to rise above the horizon.

Turning, Sofia walked to the bathroom and started the shower. As she undressed, tears ran down her face. The bruises and pain may have disappeared, but the emotional scars would be there forever. She stepped under the water and let out a soft moan as she felt it flow over her body.

God, what a mess. Who could help her?

Why hadn’t her father petitioned for her release? Where was her family, and why weren’t they helping? They had the influence and the money.

Time was running out for her now that they were back in Rome. She wasn’t stupid. As soon as she started talking, they would realize how involved she had been with the rebellion, and her life would be over.

She closed her eyes and allowed her favorite vision of Lance fill her mind.

My God, he was beautiful. Dark, piercing brown eyes and military-short dark hair matched his tall frame and wide shoulders. He had an air of authority about him which captured her full attention even when she tried to remain aloof. Her tummy filled with butterflies and her eyes only wanted to be all over him and nowhere else. She felt like a young female with a crush, though she couldn’t remember a time her body had reacted as it did in his presence.

Just the thought of him got her wet and flustered. And that was all it could ever be; thoughts of their bodies hot and needy, pleasuring one another.

Lance had nearly kissed her today, and worse, she had allowed it. If not for the guard who had interrupted them...

Sofia was glad to feel the desire for the big vampire, if only to show herself she was healing.

Pouring shampoo into her hand, she rubbed it through her long dark hair and let the suds fall down the drain. She stared at the little holes in the floor, wishing she could escape through them. Alas, she had an ankle cuff on that stopped her from using her vampire powers—it made her weaker, unable to teleport or read minds. The guards called it a P-Muter. Sofia knew it was made of tungsten, the strongest metal on earth. How? Because she couldn’t budge it. And why would they use anything else?

In other words, she was a sitting duck for Stefano Russo.

It was clear that if Sofia wanted to get away before he captured her or if she wanted to keep her head and have any chance at a life, she had to escape.

And she was going to use Lance to do it.