The Mafia's Pet: Pawn Of The Ruthless ( A Dark Romance)

Evangelina

I hear her screams echoing from the dungeon below, piercing through the silence of the mansion like a knife. They reach me even here in my room, where I'm supposed to be healing. But healing from what? Physical pain, perhaps. Emotional scars—those are different. I try to block out the noise, to stop myself from imagining what they're doing to her down there. The maid. The one who led me to the garden that day. Her voice is ragged now, hoarse from the endless hours of torture. They want her to talk, to tell them who sent those men after me. But she won't. Or maybe she doesn't know.

A part of me wishes there was something I could do. But who am I in this house? A nothing. A plaything. A body to be used, discarded when convenient. My words hold no weight here. I am not seen as human. Not by Aemilio, not by anyone. They wouldn't listen to me even if I tried to speak up. No one would care what I had to say. It's a brutal truth that I've come to accept. Or at least, I've learned to live with it.

I don't know why she's screaming, or what they've done to her exactly, but I know she doesn't deserve this. No one does. Yet here I am, lying in this bed, my body still recovering from the attack, powerless to stop what's happening to her. I close my eyes, trying to focus on my own breathing, to push away the thoughts that threaten to overwhelm me. But her cries are louder than my thoughts. They make me feel... guilty. Guilty for being the reason she's down there, for being the one they tried to take.

Why me? There are other girls in this house, just as vulnerable, just as disposable in Aemilio's eyes. Why did those men come for me? What makes me different? I've been asking myself that question since the moment it happened. Maybe it's my fate, my cursed fate, that follows me everywhere I go. I've always been the one to bear the brunt of life's cruelty, so why should this be any different?

I can't stop thinking about it. The attack. The thugs who came out of nowhere. The terror I felt as they grabbed me, their hands rough, their intentions dark. They could have killed me. They almost did. If Bruno hadn't arrived when he did... I don't know what would have happened. But why was I the target?

My mind keeps circling back to that question, as if answering it would somehow make sense of all this. But there are no answers. Not really. Just guesses, suspicions. Maybe they were enemies of Aemilio, trying to send him a message by coming after something he 'owns.' But if that's the case, why not go after Erico? He's Aemilio's brother, his only real family. Erico's life would hurt Aemilio more than mine ever could.

I shake my head, trying to clear away the thoughts. It doesn't make sense. I'm nothing to Aemilio. Not really. I'm just something he bought. A body to control. If these men wanted to send a message, why choose me? Unless... unless they know something. Unless they've heard about how much Aemilio paid for me. Maybe they think I'm more important than I am. Maybe they think I mean something to him.

But that's ridiculous, isn't it? I've seen the way Aemilio looks at me. I know what I am to him. I'm not special. I'm not valuable. I'm just his possession, like all the other things in this mansion. And yet, they came for me. They thought I was worth the risk, worth breaking into his fortress of a home for. It doesn't make sense.

The screams from the dungeon grow louder again, and I press my hands against my ears, trying to block them out. But they're still there, haunting me. I wonder if she blames me. If the maid curses my name as they hurt her, as they break her body, piece by piece. She should. It's my fault, after all. If I hadn't followed her that day, if I hadn't been in the garden, none of this would have happened. She would still be safe, doing her duties quietly in the background, invisible like all the other staff in this house.

But then again, I didn't have a choice, did I? When she came to me, when she told me Aemilio was waiting in the garden, I had to go. That's how it works here. You do as you're told, or you pay the price. And now she's paying the price for leading me into a trap she may not have even known about.

I wonder how much longer they'll keep her down there. How much more she can take before she breaks. Or maybe she won't break. Maybe she doesn't know anything, and she's innocent. If that's the case, they'll keep torturing her until she dies.

And I'll hear every last scream.

I pull the covers tighter around me, trying to find some comfort in the warmth of the blanket, but it does nothing to stop the chill that's settled in my bones. My mind drifts back to the attack. It plays over and over in my head, like a nightmare I can't wake up from. I remember the terror, the helplessness. The moment I thought I was going to die.

But I didn't. I'm still here. And now I'm left to wonder why. Why am I still alive when so many others would have been left to die? Why do I keep surviving when all I've known is suffering?

Aemilio hasn't come to see me since that day. Not since he left the clinic after demanding I recount every detail of the attack. He was angry, of course. Furious that someone had the audacity to enter his home and touch what belonged to him. But he didn't care about me. Not really. His rage was about power, control. It always is with him.

I wonder if he's watching the torture, overseeing it himself, making sure the maid suffers for what happened to me. It wouldn't surprise me. He enjoys power, enjoys the feeling of having someone's life in his hands. I've seen that look in his eyes before—the one that says he's in control, that he can take or give life at will.

A small part of me is grateful that it isn't me down there. That it's her screams filling the air and not mine. But I hate myself for thinking that. Because no one should have to endure what she's going through. No one.

I turn over in the bed, closing my eyes again, willing sleep to come. But I know it won't. Not tonight. Not with her screams still echoing in my ears.

Whoever those men were, whatever their reason for coming after me, I know one thing for sure: this isn't over. Not by a long shot. Aemilio will find them. And when he does, he'll make sure they regret ever setting foot in his house.

And I'll be left to wonder why they ever thought I was worth the risk in the first place.